Again Archives (no posting)

[Rooster Cult]

So this is just a clean place for me to store each page of my story Again. The main topic is all messy and full of so many comments that I noticed it might be a little hard to read the pages, so here we go. I will still post the pages on the main topic and the main topic will still be open for posting, but please don't post here.
main topic

[Rooster Cult]

Again, that word has been spoken through the ages, again again again. It can drive some to insanity, to murder, and to completely fall apart, again again again. It can be the source of sleepless nights, tears, silent screaming, fears and countless nightmares, Again again again. Again, the never ending repetitive word, again again again. The same thing happens again and again and again never ending, never failing to repeat itself, again again again. Never changing, nothing new under the sun, AGAIN AGAIN AGAIN. Repeating forever and ever, the same for everyone, again again again again again again.

[Rooster Cult]

It happened about a hundred years ago, the darkness came. Some said it was a freak nuclear accident, that’s what we’ve all come to believe. It started off the west coast of Japan, right next to Tokyo, a dark fog blacker than night. It spread and covered all of China and Mongolia and part of Russia in the east, in the west, however, it covered all of Hawaii, a few islands and all of California. It traveled faster than any shock wave, enveloping everything for miles. No one escaped, many didn’t even try, and the others that tried failed. After around a year the fog had completely dissipated, people in hazmat suits went in to observe and look for survivors. In a week or two the reports came in, there were no survivors. Many of the inhabitants had completely disappeared, vanished, gone, without a trace, the others were bodies on the ground. Some had fallen to the ground with no damage to their bodies; reports say they suffocated, while others were maimed horribly. All animals had died too, the conditions of death were the same for them, suffocated or maimed horribly. After a while the bodies were cleared out, every last trace of fog dissipated, and everything was reported safe for the time being. The few people who hadn’t been home when that happened returned home, some people moved into the houses of the deceased, Hawaii became a resort again. Everything seemed perfect. But then people went missing, young and old alike. The disappearances were random, detectives tried to figure out what happened, but everything was in vain. It was a mystery, until the bodies appeared, all horribly maimed, just like the ones in the fog. Then came the sightings, humanoid creatures were seen, traveling so fast they seemed to vanish once you saw them. But a hunter shot one while it was feeding on a bear. The body was taken in for research; pictures were shown all over the news. Talk shows appeared, discussing if it was a hoax, or the real deal. Reports soon came in, it was real. DNA samples showed that whatever that thing was had maimed all those people. It couldn’t be befriended; it showed no sign of any instincts but killing. So the government made an organization called the Hunters, only recruiting teenagers to young adults. They said those ages were the best for killing the creatures. And that’s how it all started.

[Rooster Cult]

It was actually in the year 3036 when this all started. The town where this started is not heard of or even mentioned beyond its county. It was a small town in the middle of exactly nowhere and there were no other towns with fifty miles of this one. It was the kind of town that you never had to leave. The kind that had all the stores necessary to survive in it and enough fast food places to satisfy anyone without agoraphobia. Since no one ever needed to leave this town, no one ever really did. But even if someone was to leave this small town, they would find that it looked just like all the others. With a collection of snowdrifts covering the sidewalks, a lack of anything that may resemble a living plant, and a horrid gloom of low black clouds that seemed to block out any light or warmth from the sun. Now, my dear reader, you may feel that these conditions and inhabitable and just plain wrong. How could anyone bare to live in such a state? I must assure you that no one has lived long enough to remember a time where everything green wasn’t crushed by ice, the blue sky wasn’t just a myth and everyone wasn’t afraid to be out of their own homes. And so, no one can miss the Earth that you all know and love.
The hero of our story isn’t the kind of hero you would be expecting. He stood around 5 feet 5 inches and was as scrawny as a twig. He always wore black clothes adorned with buckles and had at least one throwing knife hidden in his pockets. His hair was naturally black, falling a little above his shoulders and accompanied by a silver piece of fabric which he tied around his head. His skin was pale and his eyes were a golden color. Everything about him seemed cold, dark and angry, exactly the opposite of the hero of reality that you might expect to see. This hero’s name was Ahzzya, and he was barely even 15 years old when his reality crumbled around him.
Ahzzya could literally feel the tension between him and his mom. It seemed to make the very world hold its breath, expecting someone to start yelling at any moment. They sat across from each other in the car, Ahzzya at the passenger side and his mom at the driver’s side. While Ahzzya’s head was practically out of the window and listening to screamo; his mom, however, stared ahead, her gaze seemed distant and not totally focused on reality.
“Ahzzya.” Even with the music blaring in his ears, Ahzzya could hear his mom’s stern voice eventually break through the tension. He took out one of his earbuds and grunted “what?” In reply. “Why did you stab someone in the arm?”
This happened at least once every week, someone picked on Ahzzya at school and he made use of one of his hidden knives. Of course he never really injured anyone, he just gave them a nice cut on their upper arm, nothing that would need stitches and just deep enough to give them a scar that they wouldn’t forget. Of course he was always sent to the principal’s office afterwards. He was given a stern warning, a nice talk about how cold and lonely prison was, and his mom was called to go pick him up; and not to come back until “this little psychopath calms down.” Or something like that. Honestly, Ahzzya was surprised he hadn’t been expelled by now.
“Ahzzya?” His mom asked, breaking through Ahzzya’s thoughts. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah.” Ahzzya muttered, “’course I did.”
“And?”
“I did it because he deserved it, same as all the other times.” He bent down and made a show of turning up his music. It was his way of ending the conversation. He felt something pull his earbuds out and the music in his left ear stopped. Ahzzya turned out and saw his mom glaring at him with the earbud in her hand. “What did you do that for?” he asked, pausing for a moment to make sure his mom wasn’t going to crash into anything. Fortunately, she had just stopped at a stoplight.
“Because this conversation is not over.” Now Ahzzya was looking right into his mother’s face. Her eyes were hard and cold, sunken into a thin and almost skeletal face. Her hair was haggard and her skin was pale from lack of sun. She hadn’t eaten much since her husband and his dad left, so she was extremely skinny and she was always exhausted. “What do you want me to do, huh?” Ahzzya asked, he had now turned off his music. “Do you want me to just say, ‘oh I’m sorry I stood up for myself, here, I won't ever stop you from picking on me again.’?”
“I want you to stop using violence.” Ahzzya’s mom replied, turning half her attention to the road ahead as the light changed. “The principal might not have been right when she called you a psychopath, but no one else will know that. I may be able to put up with your anger issues, but no one else will, not if they don’t have to. Ahzzya, you may know this, but the only reason we even have a house is because I have friends here. And my friends support me when I need financial help. They won’t help us if you end up being increasingly violent. No one will.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” The question came out with a tone of annoyance. “You know I’m not someone who lets themselves be pushed around. How do I stop someone without hurting them?”
“You can always ask for help, report it to a teacher or something-”
“yeah right, me? Ask for help? That’s hilarious. I don’t need help I can handle things on my own.” Ahzzya crossed his arms and went back to staring out the window.
“Maybe that’s why you have no friends.” The words cut Ahzzya deep, deeper than anything else. He bit his lip to keep from insulting his mom or crying and stared out the window again. This time he wasn’t listening to music.

The moment they got home, Ahzzya walked on into the house. He usually stayed with his mom and waited for her to get out, but this time he went on ahead of her. He stepped through the door and into the warm interior of the house. He started walking up the steps to his room. He needed to alone, just for a little bit. He needed time to calm down. His mom’s words kept revolving in his mind, cutting him a little deeper each time he mentally repeated them.
“Ahzzya.” He heard his mom call as she entered the house. “Remember to do your school.”
Ahzzya’s mom had signed him up for online school the third time that Ahzzya was sent home early. She didn’t want him missing any study time. She was actually considering doing online school fulltime by now.
“Fine.” He called after her and slammed the door to his room. But once he got in, he flopped face first on his bed and let out a muffled sound which was a mixture between a sob and a groan. He couldn’t study now. He needed to stop thinking, he just needed to relax. His hand felt his pockets for a knife and pulled it out. He started repeatedly stabbing his pillow until its guts were strewn across his bed and his knife punctured into his bed. The silence that followed was amazing, sometimes the absence of sound was a miracle in itself. Ahzzya closed his eyes for a few moments, reveling in the moment of his own solitude. He took a deep breath before using his last remaining strength to roll onto his back and stare at the ceiling. He wasn’t planning on moving anytime soon. He watched as the room began to blur, his sight ruined by unspent tears. He angrily wiped them away and sat up. He wanted to get angry at something, to stab something, well, other than his pillow at least. And then he saw it, it was just a flicker of movement in the corner of his vision, but he had trained his eyes to be able to pick out those kinds of things. He grabbed his knife and a small remote from his bedside table. With a thumb on the button, he started to make his walls clear until they were see through. Smart glass; that was what the main building substance was now-a-days. It was a glass that altered between being dim and clear. The more dim it was, the harder it was, at the maximum setting it was harder than steel and completely airproof, when it was completely clear, it was about as hard as a bubble and could be stepped through easily. After the black fog came every building was made out of this stuff. Ahzzya could feel the temperature in his room plummet as the walls almost disappeared. He got his wish. In front of him, on top of his neighbor’s house was a dark figure. A Zver, that’s what they were called. They were the creatures that came with the black fog. It was a Russian that first shot the thing a hundred years ago, so he had the honor of naming it. Zver; that was the name the hunter chose, and the thing had been called that throughout the ages. Ahzzya let out a breath of relief, Finally something he could stab. Ahzzya clutched his dagger and stepped forward slowly, watching the creature intently. It’s black, silhouetted form stood out against the white snow, but it was crouching down, leaning over the edge, silent and unseen from ground level. He followed the Zver’s gaze and sat a middle aged man, he was overweight and his greasy head was starting to bald. Ahzzya’s mouth opened in an O of understanding. This Zver was hunting. And the man was his victim. Before Ahzzya could react, the Zver had launched itself at the man. There was a scream, a splatter of red against the snow and then silence. Ahzzya flinched back, he never liked death. He claimed he didn’t care, but still felt something deep in him that was unsettled by the sight. Ahzzya lifted his knife into the air and, with a quick flick of his wrist, he sent the knife spiraling into the air and sticking the creature in the back. A thrill of triumph went through him as he watched the creature fall. Ahzzya turned around and raced down the steps and around the corner. Then he hit something. There was a moment of confusion as he fell to the ground and heard his mother’s protest.
“Mom?” he asked. “What are you doing?”
“Well I was trying to get the mail.” She said and grabbed some letters that gad scattered along the ground. “But then I was plowed over by a maniac.”
“Yeah, love you too, Mom.” He muttered, he had heard the teasing in her voice and tried to ignore it. His mom ruffled his black hair with a hand and Ahzzya started to help clean up the mess. He started to place one card at a time on the table, taking in whose it was at a glance. And then Ahzzya stopped. The envelope was plain, with a USA flag stamp on it, but it was the sender I.D. that stopped Ahzzya. That address was where his dad worked. His dad didn’t leave like other dads, not dying, or divorce or even just walking out. No, he went to a work assignment across the country and never came back. He kept sending letters, though, each saying the same thing and printed on a computer. It was saying something about how work had come up again and he wouldn’t be able to come home yet. It had been nine years. Ahzzya’s dad wasn’t coming back. The letters had been the main reason for his mom’s depression. He took the unopened letter and dropped it into the trash.
“Why are you throwing that one away?” He heard his mom ask.
“It’s a stupid advertisement.” He lied simply, “from a credit card company.”
There was no answer as his mom picked through the rest of the mail and Ahzzya stared at his dad’s letter. He wondered vaguely if Dad actually had written something other than his usual excuse. He frowned, his dad didn’t deserve the chance of an apology. Ahzzya stuffed the letter as deep as he could into the trash and walked outside. So much for his sudden burst of happiness.

The temperature was at least 20 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Most people wouldn’t be caught dead out here wearing a sleeveless shirt and shorts, but Ahzzya wasn’t like most people. He had a high tolerance of the cold, of pain in general to be exact. Some people call it Sensory Processing Disorder, Ahzzya didn’t really care. The cold was probably the most catastrophic event that came with the black fog, not the Zvers. At first the cold wasn’t that bad. Humans were used to, and prepared for extreme weather. But the wildlife was not. Most of the creatures started to stuff themselves with as much food as they could find and started hibernation by the first snowfall. But a week wasn’t enough time to prepare for the winter, especially if the “winter” appeared in June and never stopped for the next 100 years. Most creatures died instantly, any animal without thick fur or feathers was immediately extinct. The herbivores died out more slowly, however, as their food supply withered off. And then The Zvers started to hunt not only humans, but animals, trying their best to starve humans off. Now most foods were made out of some random chemicals, as most of the animals were protected by a bunch of hippies. That was also why when Ahzzya wanted something alive to stab, he was forced to go with a Zver; because killing even a mouse with rabies was considered a federal offense nowadays.
Ahzzya reached the dead bodies of the Zver and the man within minutes. He tried to ignore the body on the ground and the crimson stained snow. It wasn’t his job to do anything about the man, someone would come get the body within a few hours. Plus, his mom didn’t allow him to mess with death. It wasn’t something a child should even be introduced to, that’s what she always said. But it didn’t matter now. So many years of living in this broken down little world where death was as normal as a hobo asking for handouts at the local Walmart had left Ahzzya cold and calloused. Had left everyone cold and calloused. The only difference between him and other people, was that he killed the Zvers. That he wouldn’t stand for the death. That was the only thing that set him apart. And people didn’t seem to like him because of that. Maybe it was because of his temper problems, or the fact that he could kill in the blink of an eye. Whatever the problem was, people hated him for it. And that, he could never understand. He ripped himself from his thoughts again as he leaned down to grab his dagger. Staying outside for too long could be fatal. This middle aged man found that out the hard way. Ahzzya grabbed the hilt and pulled it out of the creature’s back. The Zver was humanoid in appearance, but that was where the similarities ended. It was covered completely with small black feathers and had molted in several places, leaving pink wrinkly skin covered in little bumps. These feathers were bullet proof and as hard as a rock, the only weak point being the molted parts of their body and their eyes. A Zver’s eyes were read and beady, with no pupils or eye whites. Their teeth were sharp and pointed, and covered in venom and their fingernails were deadly claws. A voice sounded from the house, disrupting Ahzzya’s thought’s again.
“AHZZYA.” The voice called, it was his mom’s voice that called him. “YOU GOT A LETTER.”
Ahzzya scowled slightly and turned on his heels, walking back to his house.
When he got back home, the last of the letters were either opened or thrown in the trash. He looked through the letters quickly and back at his mom, making sure she hadn’t seen his dad’s letter. A quick examination of his mom’s expression told him that she was just fine, well, as fine as she had been before she got the mail. He grabbed the last unopened letter and turned it over, like there may be something incredibly interesting on the back. There wasn’t.
“Hey Mom?” Ahzzya asked. “Is this it.”
His mom let out a distracted “mmhhmm.” As she flipped through the pages of a book that she got from the mail. He shrugged and opened it, pulling out a piece of paper and studying it for a second. When he reached the middle of the letter, he let out a curse and dropped it like the letter was about to self-destruct. The letter said:
Dear Ahzzya Colson
Your abilities with taking care of the Zver have been noted, and due to lack of Hunters, you have been summoned to become one of the Hunters. You will come immediately, do not resist, if you do, your defiance will be noted and dealt with.

[Rooster Cult]

So that was it; that was really it. One letter was all it took to leave Ahzzya’s mom without a family, without any blood relatives. One letter from work had taken away her husband and one letter from a government facility had taken away her son. It almost seemed like she was expecting it, however, like she had been the one to call the Hunters about a new possible recruit. When an almost panicking Ahzzya had shown his mom the letter, she hadn’t even looked surprised. He had expected it to break her, but perhaps she had already been broken too much. Anyway, it was futile to try to disregard the letter. If Ahzzya tried to stay home they would drag him off using force. That’s what the “your defiance will be noted and dealt with,” part of the letter meant. It had taken her about a minute to react to the letter, like she was letting it sink it. Ahzzya had expected her to drop what she was doing, let everything clatter to the floor. He had expected some sort of negative reaction, something that showed that she was heartbroken to see her son go, that showed that she really loved him. But all she did was slump her shoulders and say, “Alright then, get packed. We’re leaving in half an hour.” Ahzzya supposed it was the only logical reaction. This was the government by the way, and there was no rebelling against the government. Or, at least there was no safe way to rebel against the government. But still, Ahzzya was hoping for something more than an empty stare. Perhaps it was good that his Mom didn’t care, because seeing her break might have made him break, and Ahzzya felt like he had to be the strong one in this relationship.
Ahzzya was on his phone when the car stopped, he had been playing some cheap, outdated version of Temple Run on his phone. All his other apps needed Wifi or made him run out of batteries really quickly. He had been sitting in the car for hours, listening to music and playing the same app until he felt like he could do it in his sleep. The sudden jolt of the car stopping made Ahzzya momentarily loose his focus and let his character fall of a cliff. He looked up from his app and saw a fenced in property about the size of a baseball field. The sides of the property weren’t the only part that was fenced in, but the top was also. The chain link metal extended above it in a dome, impossibly stiff. On the inside was nothing but a man in camos and a small concrete building the size of a porta potty. There was a sign that was halfway covered in graffiti, withered by age and lack of care. Beneath the graffiti cuss words and patches of rust, the sign read “Welcome to the Hunter’s Facility.” Or at least that was what Ahzzya thought it read, since the “H” had several claw marks going through it.
“Is this it?” Ahzzya asked, his tone extremely skeptical and sarcastic. “Wow the government is definitely looking out for us, huh?”
Ahzzya was hoping for some answer from his mom, but all he got was the little pop of the doors being unlocked. One thing Ahzzya learned from his mom was that she hates goodbyes, and that is one word she has never said, and one word that she would definitely never say. A deep scowl went across Ahzzya’s face and he grabbed his suitcase from by his seat. “Yeah, whatever.” He snapped, with every intention of hurting his mom with his words, “I love you too mom.” He then slammed the door behind him and walked out into the freezing desert of Nevada.

Ice crackled underneath Ahzzya’s feet, it always did. It was as cold here as everywhere else, except for the poles of course. Ahzzya began to feel a little bit of doubt in him, maybe he was being immature. Maybe he should’ve been nicer to his mom, sincere, rather than snapping at her and slamming the door. She didn’t deserve to be treated that way. And then he heard the car start up and drive away; and his anger came back full force, blocking out the guilt. What about him, huh? What about Ahzzya? He deserved at least a goodbye. He deserved some acknowledgment from his mom that he still existed. He started angrily thinking about all the other things he deserved, he deserved a dad, a life that people in the 21st century would’ve called normal, friends (or at least someone he could share his feelings with), some appreciation for his efforts with the Zvers, an maybe even a loving mom—
Ahzzya’s thoughts were cut off by him suddenly running into the gates surrounding the concrete structure and man in cameos. His anger doubled and he started to uselessly kick the gate in a fit of rage, muttering and cursing the whole time.
“Hey kid.” Came a gruff voice from above him. The speaker was the man in camos he had seen earlier. The man, who Ahzzya now suspected was a guard, looked to be in his mid-thirties, with minimally tanned brown hair shaved into a buzz cut. The man also had a handlebar mustache and a two day old beard that lightly covered his lower jaw. “Don’t take your issues out on the gate.”
“So what if I do?” Ahzzya answered angrily.
“Well, you probably made enough noise to alert every Zver around here for miles of your arrival; so I would suggest shutting up and getting in here before one of them tries to kill you.” The guard said and his gruff voice as he opened the gate just wide enough for Ahzzya to squeeze through. Ahzzya suddenly didn’t know whether to thank the man, or glare at him, so he just settled for what he thought was a mixture of the two. He stared at the ground and started to brood in a very childish way.
“Can I have it?” The gruff voice asked and Ahzzya raised one eyebrow and tilted his head towards the guard. “The letter, the invitation to join the Hunters.” The man explained like he was speaking to a toddler.
“Oh great.” Ahzzya muttered as he pulled the letter from his pocket. “Now I need an invitation to get into prison.”
The man roughly grabbed the letter out of Ahzzya’s and scanned it in about less than a second before stuffing the letter into his pockets. “Ya’ know a little respect can always get you far in life.” The guard muttered and got an angry “whatever” from Ahzzya.
Ahzzya watched the guard out of the corner of his eye as he was led to the small concrete structure in the middle of the fenced in area. The structure looked a lot like the end of a staircase that you could see on the roof of a really old building, except that seemed a little impossible. It was in the older style, the door was a regular door, not made out of smart glass like every other building. And seeing that dents and claw marks on the door; that was obviously a problem. Ahzzya could easily detect the flaws in the door, the way it could easily be ripped off its hinges, or the gap between the floor and the bottom of the door and the floor, which would protect no one if the black fog came again, or even the way the door was covered in layers of rust. It seemed like a sheet of paper could do a better job than the door. And of course it was ‘protected’ by a small padlock which could probably be ripped off if you pulled on it hard enough.
The guard pulled out a key and opened swung the door open. It looked like the very top of a staircase because that was what the small building was. They were welcomed by bright white lights which illuminated a stark white staircase which descended deep into the depths of the desert.
“You’re kidding.” Ahzzya asked. “It’s underground?”
“All eight levels of it.” The guard answered. “The elevator is on the seventh floor. They will be waiting for you on the sixth floor. You’re the first person who has come here for a few years.”
“Wait who will?” Ahzzya stopped on the second step of the staircase and faced the guard.
“The others, who else.” The man snapped in his usual gruff voice and closed the door behind Ahzzya. He was sure he had heard the click of the lock, and no matter how weak the door looked, it still reminded Ahzzya that he had been forced into a type of prison. And he hated it.

But the time he was down the first flight of stairs, Ahzzya’s eyes started to hurt. The white walls and bright lights just made for a very painful combination. He decided the elevator would be a better option than the stairs as he came to the first door. It was like the ones outside, but a lot newer. He noticed there was also a lock on that one, though it was unlocked. It seemed almost that there was something there that they may have needed to be protected against, something that would know how to work smart glass. The idea that horribly unsettling and would probably end up haunting Ahzzya’s nightmares. As he pushed open the door, he was almost expecting something to jump out and try to kill him. He was extremely relieved at the sight before him.
The seventh floor was what looked like a break room designed by a bunch of gamers, which was exactly what it was. There was a foosball table, ping pong, air hockey, a table with dozens of laptops on it, about a dozen TVs equipped with Netflix, a different gaming console for each one, and a cupboard full of movies, board games and video games. There was a room off to the side that was separated by the dimmed glass most walls were made in this day in age. It had a huge shelf lining the wall of books and a plush carpet, five bean bags, and three sofas. There was a small table in the middle with drawers underneath it, probably containing sticky notes, bookmarks, reading glasses and book lights. The room was perfect in every way, only lacking in snacks and people.
Ahzzya was little tempted to just hang out in this room. If this was prison, it was a pretty sweet prison. In retrospect, Ahzzya had no idea why he didn’t want to go here. He wouldn’t have to go to his stupid school again, he wouldn’t have to be the strong one for his mom when he felt like falling apart all the time, this place had a really sick break room, and he got to kick monster butt in his free time. He could get used to this. Ahzzya let a rare smile creep up on his face as he looked at a laptop on the large table that took up the middle of the room. Yep this place was actually pretty great.
After dwelling on how great the hunter’s facility was and forgetting about the disturbing thoughts which he had dwelt on just minutes before, he decided it was about time to get going. He wandered over to the elevator and looked at a plaque that stood next to an elevator, which was, thankfully, made out of smart glass. The plaque read:
7 break room
6 training grounds
5 lecture room
4 dining hall
3 girl’s dorm
2 boy’s dorm
1 sickbay
B basement
Ahzzya pressed the button with the down arrow on it, his finger lingering as he started to think about the disturbing thoughts that had come to his mind before. But now Ahzzya was also wondering what the guard had meant when he said “You’re the first person who has come here for a few years.” Ahzzya found himself looking back at the doorway that led to the staircase, and couldn’t help thinking about how there was a strange feeling about this whole place. And it took all his strength to go through the elevator once the glass cleared instead of getting the heck out of there.

[Rooster Cult]

The training grounds were even better than the break room, well, that’s coming from someone who loves anything with a blade. The moment Ahzzya stepped from the elevator, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. The training room had the same bleached white walls and fluorescent lights that the break room had. There were different posts with different weapons and instructors at each one, teaching the young Hunters how to kill a Zver in as many ways possible. A small room with dimmed glass walls stood off to the side projecting holograms of Zvers at what looked like a brother and sister. They both swung axes at the Zver holograms effortlessly, like the 20 pound axes weighed nothing. The siblings looked extremely alike, both had scraggly blonde hair, the same hook like nose and the sister seemed just as ripped as the brother. In fact, they may have been attractive if they didn’t look like they could crush your skull as easily as someone could crush an egg. For a minute or two there was only awkward silence and the sound of the siblings grunting every time they smashed through another hologram.
“So you’re the new kid?” a voice asked from behind him, and he turned around to see young lady about the same age as he was. She had semi frizzy black hair tied back in a ponytail, dark eyes and chocolate brown skin. “The name’s Korom,”
“Uh, I’m Ahzzya-“
“You don’t need to tell me,” Korom cut him off, “everyone knows who you are. We’re notified of new Hunters every time one comes around.”
Ahzzya pushed a few wisps of black hair out of his eyes, and nodded, his dark eyes uninterested. “How long has it been?” he asked, gaining a confused look from Korom, “how long has it been since there was a new Hunter?”
“A few years.” Korom answered promptly, “Maybe three. It was a bit surprising hearing there was going to be a new kid.”
“I bet.” Ahzzya answered simply as he watched as the savage sibling chopped down the last holographic Zvers. Once again there was silence and everyone stared at Ahzzya. “What do they want?” Ahzzya asked, getting slightly defensive.
“Seeing that you’re new here, they want to see your stuff.” Korom gave him a friendly half smile
“My ‘stuff’?”
“yah, your stuff. You’re new, remember? We want to see new fighting styles,” Korom told him and gestured to the room that had projected holographic Zvers. “You don’t want to disappoint us do you?”
Ahzzya found himself echoing Korom’s half smile. “Where do the hunters keep their blades?” he found himself asking


The sword felt unusually heavy in Ahzzya’s hand, it felt unnatural to him and he had kept the flat of its blade on his shoulder. He’d need to get a lighter sword later, too bad he left his sword at home. He stepped through the glass and it dimmed until he couldn’t see anyone, but it was obvious they could see him. He shifted the sword so that he was holding it with both hands and the tip was pressed to the ground and he waited. The first hologram was strategically placed behind him; that was exactly what he expected. He swung his sword around, putting all his strength and momentum into the swing. The swing sliced upward across the Zver’s chest. In an instant the hologram disappeared and another appeared, almost on top of him, it had apparently lunged from his side. Ahzzya jumped backwards and swung his sword upward in a fatal thrust. Another one behind him, another upwards swing. One right in front of him, another thrust. One on his side, two slices were needed to exterminate this one. Two of them on either side, step back at the last instant; two more upwards slices. Two more headed straight for him, he would need one slice to destroy these two he braced himself and started a swing. But the swing was interrupted prematurely as something slammed into his back and he was slammed to the ground face first, his sword skittering out in front of him and he saw red lights poor into the room and all the Zver’s disintegrated. Dang. There had been one behind him all along, if this wasn’t a simulation, he’d be dead. Slowly he stood up, brushed his pants off and picked up his sword. He felt his face getting red as he stepped out of the hologram room.
“Don’t be embarrassed, you’ve done better than everyone else at their first try.” Korom assured him kindly.
“Really?” Ahzzya asked and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes
“Yah, there is only one person who has gotten through that whole thin his first time.” Korom said
“Then you lied, you said I did better than everyone.” Ahzzya replied coldly
Korom let out an exasperated sigh, “yeah but he’s different… and a little mental. Also he has a really odd way of fighting.”
“Then why doesn’t he show me his ‘stuff?’” Ahzzya asked sarcastically.
“Yeah, why doesn’t he?” Korom took his suggestion literally, “HEY ROKKO” she called, and a teenage boy looked up, “WHY DON’T YOU SHOW THE NEW KID YOUR STUFF?”

[Rooster Cult]

Rokko was perhaps the strangest looking person at the Hunter's facility, and, considering Korom's description of him being mental, Rokko was probably the strangest acting person too. He had sickly pale, almost grey skin with dark blue hair that was thrown back in a ponytail. He wore a blue hoodie, which was lighter than his hair, and brown shorts. His shorts had creases in them like they had once been folded a few times, but now they fell a little past his knees. He wore dark brown shoes and on his right leg was wrapped many times with a white bandage so not an ounce of skin was showing. Oh yeah, he also had a sliver string wrapped around both arms and it was dragging behind him like a thin jumping rope. He held the barbed ends on his string in tightly closed fists and he had a fake smile plastered on his face. The thing that shocked Ahzzya the most, however, was Rokko's limp. He leaned on his left and dragged his right foot behind him.
"Why do the Hunters allow someone with such a limp in here?" Ahzzya whispered the question to Korom.
"Oh he hasn't always had that limp." Whispered Korom, she looked happy to tell his story before someone else did, or perhaps she was purposefully saving Rokko the pain of telling it himself. "He once had a friend, Dylan was his name. Well once they went on a mission to a neighborhood after a report of a bunch of Zvers had ravaged the town. After looking for a few hours they couldn’t see any signs of Zvers. Rokko says that he brought up the idea of leaving to Dylan, but Dylan had disappeared. Poof, gone, just like that. He found him a little later, he had been attacked by five Zvers at once and killed. Rokko killed the five Zvers and came away with a bite to the leg. They tried to send him back home, but Rokko almost panicked and insisted that he stayed here.”
Somehow Korom managed to say that whole thing before the simulation started, but then Ahzzya noticed Rokko had stopped when he heard them talking about him.
“Yes, but that’s because the people who are bitten are never really sent back to their home.” Interjected Rokko and he looked straight at Ahzzya, his creepy fake smile slowly faded, “something’s wrong.” He muttered, “Something is not to going according to His plans”
“What?” Ahzzya asked as Rokko walked into the simulation room.
“Like I said,” Korom said with a shrug, “that dude is mental, and also a bit delusional”
Ahzzya thought he could hear Rokko laugh as he stood in the middle of a room. He looked at the ground and shook his head with a look that said ‘you can even begin to understand.’ Rokko was still looking at the ground when the simulation started, but he seemed not to notice. A Zver appeared behind him just like it had with Ahzzya, it charged Rokko and he flicked his wrist towards the Zver. The barbed end of his string shot out and attached onto the Zver. With a quick tug he pulled the Zver towards him and stepped out of the way he flicked his hand again, more string unraveled and with a few more flicks of his wrist he had wrapped the Zver tightly the silver strings he lifted both his arms into the air, pulling the string under the Zvers feather and he extended his arms out causing the hologram burst into nothing. This whole process was done in about 2 seconds, before the next hologram appeared. This one was killed quicker that the last one. He flicked his wrist once, attaching the bard to the Zver as it prepared to lung at him, he flicked his wrist again the string wrapped around the Zvers neck, he pulled his arm down; the Zver was thrown head first to the ground so hard its neck must’ve been snapped because the hologram disappeared the second it touched the ground. The holograms seemed to get faster and appear sooner after Rokko took those two Zvers down. Three or four would appear as once, but, with lightning fast reflexes and a few flicks of his wrist, Rokko destroyed each and every one of them. Soon both the holograms and Rokko got so fast Ahzzya didn’t even know what was going on. That was until Rokko was facing four Zvers and the fifth was charging him from behind. Rokko couldn’t seem to wrap the strings around them at once and dodge a horrifyingly fast Zver behind him. He suddenly disregarded the string and pulled out a handgun. There were four quick booms and the Zvers disappeared before everyone’s ears stopped ringing. Then Rokko started wrapping the string back around his arms as the dimmed glass cleared. The simulation had ended. Rokko started to pull his already short jacket sleeves up to wrap the string up higher. That’s when Ahzzya saw the feathers. They were small, but they were also black, a Zver type of black.
“Why are there feathers on Rokko’s arm?” Ahzzya asked Korom.
“What feathers?” Korom asked and Ahzzya pointed to Rokko’s arm, but the sleeves were already pulled down. “I don’t see anything.”
“Never mind,” Ahzzya said, “I must’ve been my imagination.”
The crowd had already dissipated by the time Rokko had gone to show Ahzzya his “stuff” and it was completely gone by time Rokko had finished rewrapping his arms, Ahzzya included. Korom went off to the simulation room to try her luck with some blow darts and Ahzzya found himself grazing over the various stations. He was watching a few Hunters shooting arrows at miniscule targets that were way too far away for comfort when he felt someone grab his shoulder roughly and drag him to a corner.
“Hey what gives?” Ahzzya asked roughly as he pushed away the hand and looked straight into the face of an extremely paranoid Rokko.
“You-you aren’t supposed to be here.” Rokko stuttered
“Yes I am, I have the letter if you want see it” Ahzzya answered coldly and turned to leave.
“That’s not what I mean.” Rokko said, “You aren’t supposed to be alive, heck, you aren’t supposed to be born, to even exist.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Ahzzya said and turned back towards him, he started to understand what Korom said when she called Rokko mental
“He doesn’t like it,” Rokko continued, “you screw up all His plans. You’re a bug, a virus, a glitch. And He wants to get rid of you, to kill you, no control you.”
“I’m a what?!?” he asked, obviously offended
“A bug. Didn’t you hear me?” Rokko asked and scowled, as if Ahzzya was the one being rude. “But that’s why I have to protect you, I have to keep him from destroying you, or we’re all dead.”
Ahzzya raised his eyebrows, “And who is He?”
“He is the one who-“ Rokko stumbled his arm reached out to the wall to steady himself, but he collapsed before he had even touched the wall.

[Rooster Cult]

Rokko woke up to a horrible head ache and a tingling numbness through the right side of his body. He pushed his hand to his forehead, keeping his eyes closed, not wanting to see. A few strings of hair were plastered to his face and a bit of drool had crusted on the corner of his mouth. Slowly he opened his eyes and saw the empty sickbay. Like almost every other room it had white walls that were lighted with fluorescent lights, but unlike the other rooms this one was filled with cots that could be separated with blinding white curtains. Slowly Rokko sat up on his own cot, pushing some of his blue hair out of his face. Apparently the ponytail had been taken down when he was dragged to the sick bay. “Geesh.” He muttered under his breath as he tried to rub some feeling into his right arm. “What’s wrong with me? Passing out right when I try to promise someone protection.”
“Yes, what’s wrong with you indeed?” A gruff voice said from behind him, making Rokko scowl.
“I don’t want to talk to you.” Rokko responded and half looked at the guard with the mustache.
“I would imagine you wouldn’t” The man slowly walked to Rokko, his footsteps echoing in the half empty room. “But you need to.”
“Go away.” Rokko moaned. “I don’t need to talk to you or any other guard who thinks that they can control my life.”
“I can’t control you when you are already being contro-“
“SHUT UP.” Rokko yelled, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA. No idea. I am the only one controlling me and you or Him or anyone can't force me to do anything.”
“You are only proving my point.” The man said, his gruff expression not changing. “You didn’t always have anger issues like this.”
Rokko started to gather his blue hair back into a pony tail. “Yes I have, Edward.” Rokko muttered. He could see Edward tense in the corner of his eyes. The guard didn’t like people using his first name.
Edward scowled. “Believe whatever you want to, but are not yourself.” He said, “And neither are you in control of yourself.”
“Your point is?”
“Stay away from Ahzzya.” This was an order, not a suggestion.
“WHAT?!?” Even Rokkko was shocked by his own rage. “But I have to protect Ahzzya, he isn’t supposed to exist. I have to keep Him from killing him.”
“That’s what I mean. He his using you to get close to Ahzzya-“
“But I have to protect him.” Rokko interrupted, he voice turning a bit whiney, “I know the most about Him and his plans than anyone. That’s why only I can protect him.”
“You are wrong Rokko.” Edward’s voice was harsh and cold. “You can’t protect anyone. You think you have to protect everyone, but by protecting them, you kill them. Remember Dylan?”
Rokko let out an involuntary hiss. “DO NOT BRING UP DYLAN.” He yelled. “WE WERE AMBUSHED. I had no part in that. Believing I could protect him was not what brought around his death.”
“But it will bring around Ahzzya’s death.” He said. “You may not know it, but He will use you to kill Ahzzya.”
“No He won’t, He hasn’t been able to control me yet.” Rokko muttered.
“You bit a kid on the neck last week.” The guard pointed out.
“B-but-”
“If you want to protect Ahzzya, stay away from him.” Edward got up and walked out before Rokko could decide on how to reply.

[Rooster Cult]

Apparently, Rokko passing out was a usual occurrence in the Hunter's facility. No one even looked as Rokko was dragged off to the sick bay and no one talked about it afterwards. In fact, it was like Rokko didn't even exist here. But as the hours passed Ahzzya couldn't take his mind off Rokko. He had noticed after a while that when Rokko called his a bug, he was referring to a bug in a video game, a corruption in a system. Who would call someone that? And how could a human be a virus? Thinking about it gave him a head ache, but Ahzzya didn't just want to give up; he had an annoying nagging feeling like the answer was right there. Suddenly he felt something hard hit him in the forehead, right between his eyes. Ahzzya flinched back, his headache only getting worse. Across the table sat a grumpy looking Korom, she had been talking to him this whole time.
"I said it's your turn." She repeated before Ahzzya could protest. After a few hours of training, Ahzzya and Korom sat in the break room, playing the old classic game of chess. Unfortunately, Korom liked to flick a knight piece at his head whenever he zoned out. She had done it three times already and hit directly between his eyes every time. Man she had good aim. Ahzzya halfheartedly looked back at the chess board.
"Korom." He started as his hand hovered over a pawn, "Rokko said something really odd to me."
"He does to everyone." Korom said matter of factly, she seemed annoyed that he hadn't moved yet.
"Yeah, but he called me a virus."
"Huh?" Korom asked and raised an eyebrow.
"Like a virus in a video game." Ahzzya hesitated long enough to see the flash of understanding in her eyes. "Anyway, he talking about how this dude wanted to kill me and then he passed out."
"Welp, that's Rokko for ya'." Korom stated with a dry laugh. "Though I have to say, the Virus thing is a new one. Like I said before ' that dude is mental, and also a bit delusional.'" She said that like she was quoting a famous person. "He says odd things to everyone."
"Really like what?" Ahzzya leaned forward a bit.
"Mostly conspiracy theories. Like people who are sent home are actually sent to a different place, the basement holds some crazy secret in it, and oh yeah, he's obsessed with this one. He goes on and on about the year constantly repeating itself. He never really has provided any proof for that, because ever time the subject comes up he starts muttering the same word over and over. Again. He just keeps saying that word, again, again, again. It gets annoying."
Suddenly the timer had gone off, Ahzzya's turn had passed and he hadn't moved.
"Hey," Ahzzya started to protest. "I was gonna move."
"Would've could've should've." Korom leaned across the table and booped him on the nose with a knight piece. "You spent you turn talking about crazy people. Which I am deciding not to do. Just don't zone out or I'll throw a horse at your head again."

[Rooster Cult]

The darkness was oppressive, it was all around, like a black mist, like the black mist. The sounds all around him were only magnified due to the loss of sight, the sounds of clawing, screaming, and the sound of teeth clacking against metal bars. Every now and then there was a vaguely human voice, calling for help, begging for someone to make it stop, to make Him stop. Then, suddenly, there was a blinding light that brought thousands of hisses. The half human boy crept further back against the wall of his cell, hissing and growling until the light went out.
"I'm sorry." A voice said, "I don't know how to keep the lights from going on like that.”
The creature growled under his breath, "It’s been long." He responded
"You know I hate being predictable." The newcomer sounded human, but the creature knew better
"It's better than being late." The half human snapped back. He could sense the human poser outside his cell flinch. "I don't see why you even come at all, it only resurfaces all you worst mistakes and empty promises."
He could hear the sound of the boy sitting down, his back against the creature's bars. He could kill the boy right now, rip him to shreds. No. a voice in his head seemed to say. Let him suffer, like you have. The creature slowly crept towards the boy, giving into his human need for companionship. He found himself sitting with his back against the boy’s, the bars the only thing separating them. “Kill me.” The creature said. He could feel the boy tense at his words. “Please, just kill me. I can’t go on like this. Please.”
“No, I can still save you, I still can.” The boy insisted, “There’s a new addition to the Hunters. He’s special, He wants him dead. His name is Ahzzya. He might be able to save you-“
“NO.” The creature turned around and growled. “Never, No one could ever save me. You just keep delaying the inevitable. Someday, I will attack you, or someone else, and then you will have to kill me. Just do it now. Prevent the problem before it happens.”
He is about to walk away. The voice said again. He has keys, go for the keys, do it now. I don’t care if you have to kill him. Get the keys.
“No I can save you.” The boy said, he was close to crying now, “please just let me try- GAHH GET OFF.”
The creature raked his claws over the boy’s chest and sunk his teeth into his shoulder. His teeth struck something hard once they ripped through his jacket, but his claws ripped through flesh. His other hand went through the bars, feeling for the keys. The second his hand closed around them, something hard slammed against his head. The creature lost his grip and fell to the ground of his cell with a cry of pain. The creature looked up to see the boy standing with a pistol aimed right at his head.
“That’s right kill me. Do it.” The creature laughed, “Do it before I lose control and kill someone. Do it before I kill Ahzzya.”
Even in the dark he could see the boy shaking his head, he could see the tears running down the boy’s face. “Never. I will never kill you.” He turned and walked away, while the creature stared after him, listening to his odd footsteps. Step drag, step drag, step drag…