Rebellion
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I remember when these streets were full of life and everybody lived like they would live forever. My father, like always, was right but nobody dared to believe him. They thought he was crazy. Instead they managed to wipe out two thirds of the population. The only countries left unharmed are up north, but as I sit here, they are slowly getting covered up. It wasn’t until people started mysteriously dying that I knew I had to go on this journey. Finish what my father started.
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#72
pollution
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I went from a girl who didn't know how to kill to one who knew how to make dying hurt. Dear Diary, It sounds so harmless, so innocent, but what if it wasn't? What if it was the start of a plan to burn down the world? My father was an artist, a visionary, a truly great man; he was also a con man, a contract killer, and despised by everyone. He was the head of the Russian Mafia. Now he's dead. All I have left of him is the hate of those he oppressed, and his journal with a plan to end the world. Everyone always forgets about the villain's family, as far as their concerned we don't exist. We are forgotten, no fame, no fortune, only the residual hate. My name is Neoma Casimir and they have forgotten me too, but trust me when I'm through they won't make that mistake again. The clock is ticking. The end is coming.

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