2000 years after the Catastrophe, the first war to ravage the world of Foir and bring it to economic ruin, the world is now ruled by one man. He is a dictator and hardly as benevolent as he says. People have now risen to fight his rule, not pleased with his tactics of governing. Crimson is one of these groups that are very active in the fight and almost number one in the wanted list. No one knows Crimson’s motivations to fight, but some suspect that their number one motive isn’t making the world better, but a personal vendetta…

CRIMSON REVOLUTION

CHAPTER ONE

Crimson sheets covered his semi-nude frame while he examined his weapon closely and with the utmost care. Like a scientist looking through a microscope, analyzing every detail and committing it to memory. He was the same. Looking at a delicate silver insect. Watching how it lived, what its life was like. A different entity altogether. But as the boy analyzed it more, he found that he needed to reassess his thinking. This silver object wasn’t something as insignificant as a bug. No. He relied on this. He needed it. It was the closest thing to a best friend that wasn’t human like a dog.

It was a delicate thing. As precise as an eagle, but as calm as a sleeping leopard lazing in a tree. Ridged edges protruded outwards slightly, causing an odd sensation to pass over his finger as he touched it. He smiled a soft smirk at the gentle, massage-like feeling comparing it to many of the other things he had felt of this type. They were never as comfortable as his own. Never. He smirked at the object in his hand holding it above his head, letting the dim light cascade over the shiny surface. The metal was cool under his fingers; designed in a way that resembled the letter “L”.

He snapped his wrist suddenly, emptying one of the object’s parts onto the linens that covered his body. It landed on his covered stomach with a soft “thud”. The weight was familiar to him. It reminded him of what was coming and that made him grimace a little. To think that his home was soon to perish to the corrupted ‘angels’ of the corrupted ‘heaven’. He used to think that his home was so safe, impenetrable. A fortress. But he was wrong; completely and totally wrong…and it made him sad. He frowned. What was there to be sad about? There was only revenge in his future and he relished the thought of it. They would pay. Dearly.

A familiar “click” sounded outside of the window. The boy compared it to the rains of death; metal raindrops pouring down quickly and violently, prepared to meet its mark and deliver its victim to the afterlife without a shred of remorse. It was a vicious and dangerous click, one that put him on edge. A sound that brought fear to most that heard it and knew what it meant. However, to this young man, the sound brought him joy and close to an adrenaline high and that’s what made him so tense.

In only a few moments, the gun in his hand was reassembled and the entire room was caught in a storm of hailing bullets from enemy units. Reacting fast, the boy calmly rolled off his bed in a quick pace and crouched down to avoid the flurry of metal aimed in his general direction. A smirk laced his lips showing that he was highly amused.

After a few more moments, the gunfire stopped as abruptly as it came. The crash of the glass window breaking caused him to tense slightly. There was no running away at this point—not like he was the type to ever run away anyway.

Rising himself to a standing position in a graceful manner, also only standing in his crimson boxers, he pointed the gun rather bravely in the direction of the window. A soldier in a black bodysuit with white lines adorning the sides of it, hung down from a rope that fell from above. The young man stared into the hidden eyes of the soldier before him; an unemotional gaze gazing at the black mask with red lights where the soldier’s eyes should have been.

He shot swiftly, the soldier falling swiftly from the rope he held on to, landing on the ground below. The young man smiled, placing the gun between the waistband of his pants and the bare skin of his hip, when he heard the sickening splat of the body being broken to the point where it was unrecognizable. That was one upside to being so high up; but it probably depended if one was on the receiving end or not. It must have been horrible to see the ground becoming larger and larger as he continued to fall, mused the boy silently, however, he continued, he brought it on himself. He should have used a better rope. At least that way, he would have died hanging.

He turned away from the window and moved to his closet, pulling on a fitted, plain red t-shirt with a white number nine adoring it and light brown cargo shorts with a leather, crimson jacket with a cross on the back; he did all this rather quickly. Toeing on his brown boots, he moved away from his closet, making sure that all his weapons were intact. Everything he needed was at the new hideout, but he couldn’t hold back the feeling. That…sad feeling of loss. Looking back at his empty closest, in a form of saying goodbye, he nodded. His mouth whispered a silent goodbye as he walked out of the closet slowly.

He was quickly snapped out of his reverie when he heard a ruckus coming from the other side of the closed door that led to his room and sighed internally. This again. He should have paid more attention. Now he’d have to waste bullets. Why did they have to make a new unit for a crackdown? Especially now that all the underground organizations were getting so close to the truth?

Maybe that was why. The government knew that they were getting close and wanted to take out all the people in the underground. Maybe make them an example to the rest of the organizations that ran against them. So that was it. They were pigs on the way to the slaughter. It actually made him smile. It meant that they were afraid. This whole thing was based on fear. A fear that wouldn’t be sedated until the underground was gone. That had to be the only reason for this. The question was, however, how did they find enough organizations to make a crackdown of this scale?

The entire army had been supplied with a large mass of weapons of different power and type. Each one was formidable in its own way. They were serious and that made things dangerous. Yet, what could he do? Just sit there and wait to die? That wasn’t his style and he would not allow it to happen.

The boy frowned in anger, but his heart lightened when he heard the familiar beat of computerized, techno dance hits reverberating throughout the entire area. So he knew, mused the sandy brown haired boy silently. “Le musique a été commence…(1)” he whispered in French, a slight smirk adorning his lips once more.

The language was dead; the French language. After so many years of having a dictator rule over what humans could and couldn’t do… It took away so many languages. So many cultures. Now everything was warped and melded into what the government wanted; a world without lives of their own. Just slaves in the big game of things. To the boy, it sounded like an ego issue.

The leader of the government, also the dictator of the world, felt like no one other then him, and those he trusted,—which was funny since he trusted no one—should be allowed to do anything other than slave away for him. The boy laughed, thinking about how he covered it up by saying “This world needs to work together to survive! Therefore, we all needed to work together to work as one!!”

What a croc of bull.

He didn’t mean any of it. After that speech and a few years after, everything in the world was driven to poverty and squalor. The young man was no different. He had to go through his young life living his life in the streets, stealing from the well paid government officials and risking his life in the process. The Hazers didn’t hesitate to kill anyone, even if the person they killed didn’t do anything to them in the first place. The world was even worse off than it was before.

Pulling his mind back to the situation at hand, he took out his black sunglasses out of his jacket pocket and slipped his gun into the hidden holster located within the jacket, he put on the accessory and pushed open the door to come face to face with more soldiers. They all brandished their guns in a threatening manner, primed to shoot at the slightest instant.

Unafraid of the weapons being pointed at him, he walked forward, his deep green eyes, hidden from view, scanned over the soldiers. They all tensed as they saw him moving towards them, a simple smile gracing his lips. “Bienvenue…” he proclaimed eerily, “…à ton oubli.(2)”

He moved swiftly, like a torrential wind of a hurricane, pulling out his weapon and aiming with precision at his enemies. They fell like dead weight. All tried in vain to kill the boy who sped around them like a jackrabbit, but it was a futile attempt. Lead was pumped into so many bodies so many times so that it looked like the entire area was involved in a very vicious gang battle between rival gangs.

The entire battle didn’t even last anymore than ten minutes before every one of the soldiers lied cold and lifeless on the bloody ground of the silver hallway. The young man smirked, repositioning his glasses and proceeding to walk to where the loud music was coming from. Trouble was adverted for now, but he knew that more soldiers were on their way. They needed to get out of here and move to the new headquarters without anyone following. Now would be the most opportune time.

Deciding that running would be a better action than walking, he bolted to the control room where he knew that all his friends would be. He didn’t have much time so he pushed his legs as fast as he could through the main corridors that led to the control room. Bright florescent lights passed by him overhead, casting a white light that made one think that they were passing through the hallways of a hospital. Silver tiles lay glued to the ground and shined in the bright lights. He passed doorways with etched glass doors that slid open whenever they detected a familiar presence and soon arrived at the right doorway.

Stopping abruptly, he ran a hand through his hair while walking into the room, removing his glasses with the other hand. “Bonjour, mon ami.(3)” he spoke in a tired tone, panting softly. He walked further in, eyeing the room. Computers and screens of all different kinds littered the walls. They all showed empty hallways and all the rooms of the five young men part of the organization. Some also showed the outside of the building where many Hazers were trying to force their way inside.

The four boys inside the room all turned their heads in the direction of the green eyed boy behind them. “Your late.” said one somewhat harshly. The person who spoke was a boy of average height with silver hair that covered his left eye. It was also very spiky at the ends, but smooth at the top. He was also pale skinned. The boy’s name was Ienzo, the informant of the group. At the moment, he looked annoyed, like he always did. His light brown eyes were narrowed at the boy that walked in through the door.

“It’s not like it’s anything new, Ienzo.” muttered the brown haired boy with green eyes, rubbing his cream coloured skin in a bored manner.

“Enough.” ordered a man with dark black hair and dichromatic eyes—one hazel, the other blue, “We don’t have time for arguing between you two. We have to make it over to our new location without getting detected.” The man’s name was Dirge and he was the leader of the band of boys around him. He had innate jet black hair, spiked with gel into a hard style. His usual bandana was wrapped loosely around his neck, enhancing the odd lavender colour of his eyes. Naturally gifted with the qualities of being a leader, he self appointed himself to be the boss and govern over all the other boys in the group. No one objected to the idea.

“He’s right. Just because they’ve let up for now doesn’t mean that they won’t be back shortly. Hazers are like that.” said a boy with long black hair tied back into a ponytail. A white bandana was around his head and some stray strands of hair fell before his face, tickling his skin and irritating his red eyes; however, it was an inane annoyance. His name was Darts and he was a peculiar boy, but very smart. He was the hacker of the team and spent all his time on his computers, making up plans with Dirge and hacking into government systems. He did this while all the while listening to techno tracks, no one really knew why. His red eyes narrowed in amusement as he watched the many computer screens before him, typing away furiously.

Ienzo closed his eyes, apparently irritated with something. “Are you finished yet?” asked the silver haired boy icily.

“Gah! Relax!” said Darts, waving his hand nonchalantly in the air, “It’ll only take a minute to transfer all my songs and encode them into the new code so that they’ll work on my computer.”

“How many do you have left?” questioned a boy named Julian, fingering a piece of his short brown hair while yawning at the same time. Despite the situation, he appeared quite calm. He stood behind Darts, who was seated in his chair, and his dark brown eyes idly watched as the boy before him typed away rapidly.

Julian was an interesting fellow that evened out the entire group. He was of Australian decent and had the accent to boot. He was the type to be laid back and happy-go-lucky at times. Mostly, everyone in the group, minus Darts because no one could tell what the red eyed boy would do next, were the serious types of people. Julian, for a fact, wasn’t like that at all. He took everything in stride; keeping his cool while wearing his cowboy hat and chasing women like a rabid dog.

“Four-thousand-six-hundred and thirty-four.” said Darts simply.

“Who’s for leaving him here?” asked Ienzo as he proceeded to walk out of the room they were all in.

“All for it.” said the green eyed, light haired brunette.

Darts whined playfully. “Hey….! C’mon now, Denzel! I thought we were on good terms?”

“We are,” said the boy in the leather jacket, “However, I was never a fan of waiting. Ienzo knows that well enough.”

Dirge let out a heavy sigh and a dry laugh at the comment. “I think we all do, Denzel.”

“Done!” Darts shouted loudly.

Ienzo rolled his eyes, aggravation clear on his features. He dug into his pockets, pulling out his black leather gloves and headed out the door, cracking his knuckles. “I’ll meet you guys in the garage.” he muttered as the doors closed behind him.

Darts finished typing and pulled on a jacket that was resting over the chair he was just sitting on. It was a dark red track jacket with black lines going down the sleeves. He zipped it up and put on his red cap that was nearby. He gave all his comrades a cheeky grin as he put his hands into his pockets. “I set the detonator for five minutes. That should give us enough time to get out and enough time for the government officials to get in.”

“Planning a massive massacre?” intoned Julian with a smirk.

Darts chuckled. “If we’re going to loose our first home, is there any other way to loose it other than this?”

“Going out with a bang… I like it.” said Dirge.

“Me too.” said Denzel inaudibly, with a hint of a dream-like tone to his voice, “This was our first real home.”

Darts caught the tone and smiled softly. “The next one will be better. More secure than this one, that’s for sure.”

“I’m not sad, you guys. I’m just wondering about what adventures that this place won’t be able to see in the future.”

“I think this place wants to expire.” said Julian with a grin.

Denzel laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“We should get going. Ienzo’s probably plotting how to torment us for taking our sweet time.”

“Once we step out of this room and pass those doors, the timer starts. Are you guys ready?” questioned Darts. The three young men nodded and turned towards the glass doors, eyeing them one last time. “On three then.”

“One.” counted Denzel, gripping his gun tightly.

“Two.” said Dirge, a focused gaze etched onto his serious facial features.

“Three!” shouted Darts and Julian in unison as the four boys charged the door.

Five minutes was all they had.

7:56pm—Detonator initiated; Five Minutes and Counting

4:59…

Whoo hoo!! New story! Umm…anyway…

This is a story that just randomly popped up into my head. I elaborated it and here we are today. But just to tell you, this entire story is on a whim. What ever pops into my mind that makes sense at a certain time in the story goes in. Hopefully it turns out well. But that also means that I have no clue when this will finish. It could be awhile or it could be short. Also, there may or may not be a sequel; not to sure yet.

Also, I’m aiming for these chapters to be shorter than my two other stories in progress (Seven Chaos and Reign(Choices and Memories)). If they get longer, then their supposed to, but I’m hoping for them to be no longer than 10 to 11 pages each. This was technically a short chapter (six/seven pages) and next chap may be the same length, but after that, it’s going to be around roughly 8-11 pages long for each chapter.

Now that that’s done, I’m not going to ask for any early favourites because I haven’t gone far enough into the character development. If anyone wants to say an early favourite, feel free to.

Translations: (NOTE: I’m currently learning French so not all of my French may be correct. If anyone French speaking sees any of this and it’s wrong, forgive me.)

1: The music has started.

2: Welcome to your oblivion.

3: Hello, my friends.