Rebellion: My story of the Wild Ones.

 Prologue

If you’re reading this, it means we must have won the war. It means that you no longer live under the tyrant group known as F.E.A.R.; it means you are again free. If the war is still raging outside, it means that this is a very dangerous little journal you’re holding, and you must burn it right now, or F.E.A.R. might just win the war, and well… you know what that means.

 Whichever, know this is the story of The Wild Ones, or to the ones part of the group, the Legion of the Black. We started the rebellion, wanting to see the downfall of F.E.A.R. and its laws of captivity and evil. No matter what you’re told, these events happened. I was there, I saw them, and I participated. I was there when the Great Five fought the F.E.A.R. I burned the capitol; I sang our war songs and painted my body for the fights. I wielded one of the swords that hopefully ended the Empire.

Good luck friend. May the Five watch you.

Alice Marie Ryan, known as the Musician.

Chapter One

“No way!” I shouted, looking at my best friend, Krista, as she told me some of the latest gossip from our school.

“Yep, all true. Our school slut Rose is pregnant yet again!” She laughed as she replied.  We sat in the soft grass in front of our town courthouse, and continued to gossip. It was a chilly January evening, with the sun already down and the sky dark at only seven thirty. The moon light up the sky along with the city lights, giving everything a nice yellow glow. Krista ruffled her short, pixie cut blonde hair and the blue streaks in it flashed in the light.

 Krista was my best friend, and there were hardly any time that we were apart for too long. She was much smaller than I, being only five two. Her dark navy shirt showed her large curves off, along with her skinny jeans. Her bright blue eyes never failed to sparkle, always making her look the most impressive of this duo.

I however, was much less gracefully shaped than Krista. I stood at a lanky five nine, with long blonde hair with black streaks. I had very little curves, and my tight black sweater just made me look even less curvy. My white shimmering scarf complemented my deep, stormy grey eyes.

“So have you and Vic kissed yet?” Krista asked me, her face looking a little mischievous.

“No. I gave him the perfect opportunity but he blew it off.” I mumbled as I scowled at the ground.

Vic was my boyfriend, and we had been dating for just a little while. He was six foot, had shoulder length black hair, and brown eyes so dark they looked almost black. He was one of the strong-dark-warrior-sweetheart kind of guys, and I adored him. He loved me too, but sucked at being a Romeo. I lost count of how many times he made me want to hit him with a copy of Romeo and Juliet because of his lack of romantics.

Krista just laughed. “Don’t worry, he’ll come around.” She looked up at the moon and sighed. She looked back to me, and got an evil little smile on her face, a classic sign that she was up to something. “You wanna go to my mom’s apartment and eat? She’s with Dipshit tonight, I guarantee it.”

I laughed and nodded.  Her mom had moved out about a year ago, and was living with her boyfriend, who we referred to as Dipshit, but still rented an apartment to hold all of her stuff. The apartment was a couple blocks off of the town square, where we were now. We picked ourselves up, and started walking. As we were about a block off of the square, we passed a guy walking in the opposite direction.

His arms were covered in tattoos, and his long black hair was shaved on the right side, but flopped down in his face and down onto his left shoulder, and a pair of sapphire blue eyes covered in eye liner seemed to glow in the moonlight. His silver lip ring flashed in the streetlight. He wore a black t-shirt and a black leather jacket with no sleeves on it. On the back of the jacket, there were the words THE PROPHET written above a white devils head of some sort, and his tight black pants showed off a set of nice track runner legs. His combat boots hit the concrete sidewalk with a soft thud. “Hello ladies,” he said in a deep, rough voice as we passed him. He smelled of cigarettes, and a strange cologne.