Imagine a world where you find yourself clicking a strange ad. You do this often at home, whether apropriate or inappropriate. It always pulls you in, whether with a free phone or with hardly clothed women, depending on your values. Now imagine a very strange small ad that you happen to scroll over. You give your laptop a click and you're in, but it freezes. Frozen and still your browser closes as you try to get it to work. You go to re-open it, wanting to continue your frolicking and internet slang. It won't open. You click and click to no avail, until the ad reappears infront of you. A slow paced glowing emits from the monitor and reflects onto your face, making a soft broken fax machine like sound. An eye sits in the middle, white on deep black. V.I.R.U.S it reads, and as you try to click the exit button it blinks. It breathes, it stares, it lives. It's more than a simple virus, it's a creature bathed in code. Now it asks you questions, and you can't close the window, do you answer them? Maybe you buy a new computer and throw that one out. Maybe you burn it, decide you're done with the internet for a while. Enjoy the nature outside, read a book. Except we both know you're far too tempted to resist, so you start to type a responce to the questions it gives you.
{COMPLETED} "now that you've had your fun electrocuting me, would you care to hop in the backseat?"
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Freak DNA. That's what I like to call it.
The fault to my genetic code. More often than not, it's a curse.
The static running through my blood gave me a name. A cruel, daunting label of a measly bug. A roach. That's what I am to them, to the government. Roach; the nameless monster with electricity for a sense and lightening as a second nature. It ruined my life, the sparking currents playing tag in my mind, running around and bumping into everything, shaking me loose.
The government, actually. They ruined my life. My curse just gave them a reason.
You see, the normal population with ordinary DNA, they don't know about the people like me. The roaches of the world. We don't get that kind of recognition at the camps. There, we are only one thing in the military's eyes. We are weapons and we will act like it.
Everyone else out there, bathing in the goodness they don't know they've got, they don't know about the roaches their stepping on. As long as their getting closer to the sky, they don't care what they stand on to reach it.
They don't know about the sparkling dreamer that's killed 7 people before her 17th birthday.
They don't about the ghost of a girl peaking around corners for her entire life because even home wasn't safe.
They don't know about the fighter of steel and iron sucking on his bloody lip courtesy of the wars he battles in as nothing but a shadow.
They don't know about the masked villain who would do anything to see the army they lead claim the throne
They don't know about us. But they will, because we will rise. And when we arrive, we will arrive violently.
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Started: 10.06.15
Finished: 3.17.16