Young Writers Society

Alimento Mori:
awareness that you will die, that these passing years aren’t just scenes from a dress rehearsal, rounds of an ongoing game or chapters in a story you’ll be telling later, but are footprints being lapped by the steadily gathering tide of an unfathomable abyss.

You've been here since birth. Some of your parents bothered to leave you a name before departing, most haven't. Some of you are here simply as a stroke of misfortune, your parents might have chosen the wrong doorstep to leave you on, others have been doomed since before conception, you are the repayment of a dept that could only be paid with a newborn.

Each child that enters the organization is first examined and sorted into the four different classes that the training camp offers: Stealth, Combat, Technology, and Science. Those children who show promise in none of the four are used as lab rats. Each of the students in the four classes has 17 years to train and perfect their skill before graduating to be "adopted". While still a part of the organization, each child has to become a master in their respective jobs while also being genetically mutated to become a super human. The tests and surgeries and alterations made to each child depends on what field they're sorted in - for example, science class students, being the most physically defensive of the four, would have mutations to increase their durability, such as faster healing times.

If you are adopted, you go on to fight in the Tournament - arena-style battles to the death until a victor is claimed. Each arena lasts up to a week to two weeks, and the tournament lasts over a course of six months with a week in between each arena battle. The team who wins the tournament gains money, power, and freedom from obligations to the organization.

Four Classes (Jobs):

A-level: Stealth - Dante, Messenger
B-level: Combat - AlmondEyes
C-level: Technology - RP
D-level: Science/Medicine -

Levels are just what section of the building each class is located on, and also are a system of identification. Each child has a room number and a level. For example, my character is part of the Technology class so his ID would be C-3 (C-level, room 3).

Character Profile:

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age: 17[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Class:[/b]

[b]Appearance:[/b]

[b]Personality:[/b]

[b]History:[/b]

[b]Mutations/Alterations:[/b]

[b]Fighting Style:[/b]

[b]Other:[/b]

Tech - The Arena

Tech backed up until he could feel the cold steel front of the door that he was just ushered through. After moving a few feet to the left he felt brick and what seemed to be vines or some other type of plant. After running his hands up the thick of it a thorn scraped the metal of his fingers and he pulled his hand away. Giant chunks of rubble shifted and rolled under his feet, and he was traversing the rough terrain well until a chunk caught the tip of his boot, twisting his ankle, and sent his sprawling forward. He landed hard on his knees, tearing his jeans, and let out an agonized groan. There was a loud popping noise before his leg went numb.

"TC!"

Ivy's voice was further away than he expected it to be.

"I'm fine," he called back to his group. "Just mapping!"

"Well get back here, it's dangerous!"

"Okay!"

Tech made to rise, but couldn't even stand fully erect before he was tumbling towards the ground again. A scream tore through his throat as soon as he made impact again, his hands moved quickly and tore a sharp of glass out of his leg. Tears pooled in his eyes and despite his efforts to hold them back they rolled down his face. Blindly, he reached out to try and push himself upwards, but his legs wouldn't support him. TC bit down a sob and shuffled back towards the brick and vine wall. Carefully he began making his way backwards. He'd only been dragging himself a few seconds before someone grabbed his shoulder. Quickly, he grabbed his gun from its holster and pointed it towards the offender.

"Woah! It's just me."

"Branch?"

The new kid. This morning when TC had woken up, instead of seeing Cody at the breakfast table waiting for him, a new guy, Branch was in his place. Threat wasn't willing to talk about it, only saying that "Cody got too curious". And that was that.

"I'll bring you back to the girls," he said quietly while lifting Tech up. "Your leg."

"I-is it bad? Branch, I can't f-feel it."

"Just a dislocated knee. You'll be fine."

---

Tech sat on the ground and listened while everyone made plans. He was only half paying attention. The crew helped to fix up his legs, and while he could now walk without a lot of pain he still had to limp and running was not an option.

From what he gathered, their arena was an abandoned city. That much they could agree on. The problem was figuring out how big the whole place was.

"I can do that," he spoke up while removing one of the fingers of his left hand. After messing around with its configurations on his computer, small blades sprouted from the place of removal and made the thing air born.

"It's a new function," he mumbled. "I haven't finished developing it yet, but if it works it should map out this place just fine. Either that or I lose a finger."