Legends: Fall of an Empire

My Left Lense

    After school, I walked to mine and Peter's meeting spot, and he wasn't there. Which is unlike Peter, I've know him since I was 6, we've meet here on the corner of Sticks and Stanton everyday since we were 12, and allowed to walk to school. And he has never been late, not in almost 5 years. And you're always allowed one more night after your H.A's. So where is Peter?
    So I could only do the one thing on my mind, and that was find Peter, ask his goofy ass why he wasn't at our meeting spot, and give him a big ole hug and ask him the verdict of his H.A.'s. So I called Tiff, my sister, and let her know that I'd be a little late because I was going to the Wilkinsons house to see Peter after his H.A.'s.
     Now you might ask, where are your parents Kai? Well, same as us, they had to take the H.A.'s at 17 and they left.
     But the truth? You want to know the honest truth? Tiff isn't even my blood sister, she's my 'Handler', because I am not a S.O.C.C., not by birth, but that's a story for later on.
     As I came to Peter's house, I realized no one was home, but Peter's light was on, so obviously Peter was just so worried about his results he ran straight home. Stop thinking like that Kai, I think to myself. I walk up to the door, and for some reason it's been left cracked. Why, even when Peter's family leave they always makes sure the door is locked. I walk into the house, and see the dinner table full of food, everyone's plates set, almost like everyone just up and left. "Peter?!" I yell out, hoping to hear some goofy response about the Earth being made of cheese, or about there being a god of bolognese, but nothing. The T.V. is droning on about how 13 more 17 year olds have been found dead, almost mysteriously. And again; it's just weird, the Wilkinsons never the T.V. on. "Peter, how were your H.A.'s?"
Click Click, BOOM!
The sounds of a shotgun, possibly a 20 gauge, blew abruptly throw the hallway, in the direction of Peter's room, and I knew right then that I should have listened to the voice in my head, because I was right.
I ran into Peter's room, and before I even looked I knew my worst fears were correct. There laid Peter, lifeless, shotgun in his arms, tears in his eyes, glasses still on. Right next to him, lay his H.A.'s score.
Failure in all areas, Not Fit to Serve S.O.C.C. To keep standards terminate immediately.
This was S.O.C.C.'s idea of "Consumer Control", for me, this was my call to war. My best friend, my brother in arms, the perfect mirror to me, my left lense, was not FIT to serve their "Perfect Standards". This was the second slaughter to me, and I knew many turning 17 would also be found unfit to serve.
My grandfather, Kaizar Korpus the Brave, sent a fleet of soldiers to find any information on what the United States had planned, and find they did. The information they found pertained to a treaty between several world powers that they had hid from the U.N., all written and signed by one man, Arkan Testerfield.
    However, Arkan found out about this spy mission, and claimed it an act of war, claiming that they attacked several men at Washnington D.C., inadvertently starting the call to arms that was S.O.C.C.
     My grandfather also just so happens to be the German general who was told to retreat, and he was the only man who didn't.
   In 2316, he lead a group of 400 men, called the Blitzkrieg 400, who all fought valiantly to the very end, against none other than Arkan and the Orginal S.O.C.C's.
   Everyone who holds any importance to me, has been slaughtered, killed, and now, deemed unfit for the standards of this society. Tomorrow I turn 17, and I know how I will answer my questions