Scholz Crisis 2025

 

Doug Ford’s Ontario, 2028

In the annals of history, the once-mighty empire of Canada had flourished—a land that had gleamed with prosperity, governed by laws and institutions promising stability. But now, the gears of civilization had ground to a halt. Like the great deserts that once swallowed ancient civilizations, the land had become a barren stretch, where mere survival, not thriving, had become the sole ambition.

The cities, once vibrant with life and commerce, now stood as hollow monuments, their grand facades ravaged by the slow encroachment of entropy and neglect. The dissolution of social order had become like an unrelenting sandstorm, eroding the very bedrock of society, grain by grain. The people, once proud of their heritage and the strength of their institutions, now found themselves locked in a frantic battle for power, as the old guard faltered and new, more brutal forces rose from the ashes.

The streets, once patrolled by the state, were now ruled by an iron fist of silence. Justice, once swift and certain, had long dissipated into the void, leaving behind only the strong, those who dictated the terms of law and existence. The gangs, once a mere nuisance on the fringes, had ascended to power. They were the new aristocracy—the warlords of a fractured world. In the absence of traditional authority, they had seized control not through the might of armies, but through the guile of politics, the forming of alliances, and the deadly weight of threats. The Five Point Generalz and the Wolfpack Alliance had emerged as the dominant players, their criminal empires sprawling through Toronto’s underworld. The Tow-Truck Gangs, once a side issue, now ruled with terror, their brutal violence shaking the streets with each new rivalry. No longer were these criminal syndicates a shadow lurking in the city's corners—they were its very lifeblood, controlling the flow of power with iron fists.

The hospitals, once sanctuaries of healing, had become arenas of attrition, where the weak were discarded, left to perish while the powerful, swathed in cloaks of indifference, walked past without a second glance. The once-revered doctors, overwhelmed by an unceasing tide of suffering, could no longer tend to the wounded. The system, once so robust, had rotted from within. Yet no one had noticed the precise moment it fell. It had been a gradual, subtle decay, like the dying breath of an ancient tree, its roots decaying unseen in the dark until the mighty trunk could no longer withstand the weight of time.

In the biting silence of the winter months, when the cold descended with a vengeance, the people found themselves at odds with the very forces of nature. The elements, no longer temperate, had become more unforgiving than any ruler. The poor, without shelter, perished by the hundreds. The streets became strewn with their bodies, forgotten by those who wielded the power to save them.

As the social fabric tore apart, the people turned inward, seeking solace not from the failing state, but from those who could provide. There was no longer any need for the government to intervene—the marketplace of power had already shifted. Survival was no longer a collective will but an individual pursuit. The rise of warlords—the gang leaders—had established the new order. The Five Point Generalz, the Wolfpack Alliance, and the increasingly powerful Tow-Truck Gangs now controlled Toronto’s dark streets, their influence only growing as the state crumbled.

Ultimately, the slow disintegration of Canadian society, like the slow death of a star, had been inevitable. It was not the cataclysmic end of an empire, but a methodical collapse of a great house—stone by stone—as its foundations crumbled beneath the weight of its own contradictions. The future had become an ambiguous specter, a land of uncertainty, as the new lords of this fractured world carved out their destinies—one violent battle at a time.