How far would you go to NEVER fail again?
This question will push Noche L. Grim to the test as she attempts to join the Cross Military. With their resources she intends to find DeathTech and recover her memories.
However, when she lives on a conti...
Timmy Timebomb's lungs were on fire; his eyes stung. He was pushing himself to the limits, practically flying. Yet his hunters kept pace.
"Shite! Shite! Shite! Cor blimey! How did this happen? How did this happen?!" Timmy thought, "The Cross military found me! They know I'm a Create User! They're gonna kidnap me!"
The United Government had a worldwide ban on Create due to the destruction it could cause. There was only one place, in the whole world, where Create was legal. The home of the Cross military, the Create continent. Thus, it was the only place Create Users were legally allowed to live. This was NOT that place.
Tears formed from the whipping winds as the overwhelming sickening anticipation bubbled within him. This was the fastest he had ever moved before – ever moved in his life. He didn't even think it was possible, but right now he was putting olympic athletes to shame. It was INCREDIBLE... At least, it would be if it didn't feel like someone flayed his nerves with a scalpel. He was gonna be sick.
Yet despite this incredible speed, the man with the white jacket was keeping up effortlessly. Sweat poured down his face as he turned to his pursuer.
"You wankers! How dare Cross do that to our precious clocktower!" He screamed, "Leave me alone!"
"You made the bomb."
The man in white didn't mince words. When he spoke, he was neither loud nor quiet. His volume was always loud enough to be heard; and heard clearly. He spoke with absolute authority; and his scowl matched it.
Timmy grit his teeth. If only they hadn't followed him to the clock tower. He thought he was safe, hiding amongst the gears, but they found him so quickly. All he wanted was to get away from them, but they were both so supernaturally fast. The bomb was all he could think of and now he regretted it. It was such a dumb idea. Now... The clock tower ruined.
The thought made his blood run cold as a heavy pit formed in his stomach.
"No. It can always be repaired." He thought, "... Besides, it wouldn't have damaged the clock tower where I placed it!"
He tightened his jaw.
"You're the one who threw it like a missile!" Timmy shouted, "You won't take me away. Not from here!"
"Say. What. You. Want." The man in white said, "When you learn Create, you are banished from the Humane World... As a member of the Cross military, its my job to enforce that."
Timmy knew that to be true. The Cross military was the strongest militant force on the planet. They worked for the United Government and had one job... Find and detain Create Users. Anyone who resisted was sent to the Cross Asylum... Any who didn't were forcefully relocated to their island... Never to leave its borders.
Either way, he'd end up a prisoner... So he chose to resist. Then he'd have a chance to escape. Looking back, Timmy saw his pursuer's eyes narrowed harrowingly.
"You are going to the Create Continent. Either as a civilian... Or a terrorist." The man in white said.
Timmy's head snapped forward as a bead of cold sweat fell down its side. Something was abnormally terrifying about that calm man.
"No, I can't leave here... I can't... I still have so much to do... People I need to help." He thought.
"That burglary was your downfall." The man in white said, "I'm tired of criminals."
Timmy scowled, trying to mask his evident worry and concern.
"It's not my fault... I had too." He thought, "I knew it was wrong, but I had too...It's not fair."
Timmy's heart beat loud and each breath burned. He noticed the man in white had gone silent. He looked back and saw he was still being chased. It seemed the lighthouse-cloaked girl was gradually approaching her superior. Who glanced back to her as if she was slowing him down.
"I'm growing tired of this chase."
The man in white frowned, deepening his near-permanent scowl. A blur of gold electricity and whipping winds came into view. The lighthouse-cloaked girl caught up to him, he turned his head to her.
"Also, don't think I've forgotten you've snuck onto my mission. Be prepared to work off your punishment." He said, "Remember, you're not officially a member of Cross... If you want to pass the Cross entrance exam and join the military... Then you better not break any more rules."
"Sure thing Dreg." The lighthouse-cloaked girl said.
"Dreg? So that's the name of the guy in white." Timmy thought, "Why does that name sound so familiar?"
Timmy's body ached. He was out of breath and his head felt light. Timmy was an unusual looking fellow. He wore many tattered ratty clothes, an old brown gear-esque hat, a dried leather brown jacket with a yellow patch on his left arm, tattered pants belted up with rope, two shoes with the right one broken to the point that his toes were fully exposed to the elements, and a grey shirt that was more like a ripped bed sheet. His nose was long like a sickle, his eyebrows bushy, and he wore spectacles that were missing the bars that held onto one's ears.
Likewise his predator Dreg, or the man in white, also wore a strange outfit. He wore silver sunglasses that were composed of a connected X over each eye. His white, short sleeved, jacket had black fur on the collar and sleeves. With strong arms, a lithe muscular frame, and a hardened middle aged face, he had all the qualities of a skilled fighter.
The wrinkles on his brow almost gave him the appearance of a permanent scowl; he looked about fifty-three. He had a unique goatee and finely trimmed sideburns. His shirt was black, with white details of various skull and themes of the dead upon it. Also, his shirt had a V-neck cut with a doily design on it's collar. Lastly, his pants were also black while his pure white boots went just below the knee.
Finally out of rooftop, Timmy jumped. He landed right in the middle of the town square. Close to the ocean, acrid soot intermingled with sea salt in the still air. The world was silent here. Timmy turned to face the two Cross soldiers chasing him.
They loomed on the roof nearby. His heart thumping, his face stern and resolved, he stared up at them with a defiant glare; as a cold sweat ran down his face. Running wasn't working, he had to fight Cross. If he wanted to keep his freedom, he was gonna have to defeat Dreg and the mysterious lighthouse-cloaked girl!
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