Young Writers Society

The camps were empty tonight. The storm was closing in on Atlanta, but here, this far out, it was barely a drizzle.

Everyone crowded around the drill camp, waiting for news on the city inside the Perimeter. The air had a cooling pinch to it that gave way to small clouds of breath in the crowd. Their chests rose and fell like a wave, all barely making a noise, waiting for word on those left inside the Perimeter.

The microphone on the stage whined with feedback, and then all was calm.

“People of Fort Sundersale, thank you for your patience. It’s not much, but it’s all we have for now. I know you all want inside Atlanta and you're all anxious for news inside the Perimeter. I’m going to be the bearer of bad news here and say that we do not have the information you want. What goes on inside the Perimeter is not under my jurisdiction anymore, as the chief of police.

“The Military has taken over the jurisdiction of the city. Atlanta is under Martial Law. Anything inside the Perimeter is on immediate lockdown.” The officer looked down, “I’m so sorry.”

“What about my mom?” A teenager asked from the crowd.

“And my brother?”

“My fiance is in there! They can’t possibly lock it down like that!”

“Look, people!” The officer shouted, and the microphone whined once more. “I know this isn't the answer any of us were looking for. It's out of my hands, and it's even out of the governor's hands at this point. All we can do is wait. The police force of Atlanta and the National Guard will still be here, providing shelter, food, and water to all who have been displaced due to this. We're working with the governor to provide better accomodations, but I know some of you wish to stay as close to the city as possible. I do as well. The city stands by its citizens.”

“Isn’t there anything we can do to help?”

“As of right now, if any of us were to enter the Perimeter of Atlanta, we could be shot on sight.” The officer sighed as thunder cracked in the background. “It’s a warzone in there.”



Three months ago, a vaccine underwent a public clinical trial under the supervision of the CDC and FDA, and it sprouted a fantastic response from the patients under trial and the general public. Not only was it a new vaccine, but it was a new delivery system that would, according to the CDC, overhaul and make vaccines more effective and safer than ever before. Instead of an intravenous injection, it was a nanobot delivery system that would enter the nervous system and be transported to the certain area that the vaccine was for.

After a lot of back and forth with public consensus, the CDC and FDA approved human trials for several different vaccines. However, one nanobiozene, VAD-11, was accidentally released into the waters of Atlanta, Georgia. This was an untested and unsuitable vaccine that was projected to be a semi-permanent boost to immune systems and many of the body's various systems and muscles.

VAD-11 had an unintended and unforeseen side effect: A small amount of the people in Atlanta got the ability to manipulate certain objects and elements. As CDC began studying the first cases, this side effect was nicknamed the Harbinger Syndrome due to its capability of infiltrating even smallest parts of the body's systems and bringing along with it changes that drastically change the body. The CDC and FDA thought this to be easily handled, but they were wrong.

While the side effects to VAD-11 were not lethal, contagious, or harmful to the body, it had disastrous effects and caused mass panic in the town of Atlanta, which spread faster than any virus could. As Atlanta garnered national and international attention, the federal government stepped in.

FEDRA, or the Federal Environmental Disaster Relief Agency, stepped into Atlanta as the Governor placed the city under Martial Law. Under the direction of the CIA and FBI, the FEDRA locked down the inner city and forced all those affected with Harbinger Syndrome inside. FEDRA set up The Perimeter, a walled and highly secured perimeter around Atlanta's aptly, and ironically at this point, nicknamed Perimeter, otherwise known as Interstate 285. The area inside the Perimeter was evacuated and all those affected with Harbinger Syndrome were shoved inside the Perimeter to be quarantined by FEDRA while the CDC worked on some kind of cure to reverse the effects of VAD-11.

What was promoted as a quarantine was anything but. FEDRA issued a strict curfew after sundown that was enforced with lethal methods. FEDRA roamed the streets every night, searching for the newly deemed Harbingers who disobeyed the martial orders. Internet was cut off, electricity was limited, water supplies were rerouted to outside of the Perimeter, and no one could leave. The only ones who could enter were under FEDRA jurisdiction.

After the first week, due to the unrest of the Harbingers and their newly acquired abilities, unrest become outright rebellion. Due to the increased aggression of those quarantined, FEDRA decided to level the playing field, so to speak, and injected their soldiers with VAD-12, a subsection of VAD-11 that all but ensured they received the Harbinger Syndrome.

Fearing for their lives, the remaining Harbingers banded together to try and sieze the Perimeter to escape. However, facing the empowered forces of the FEDRA, the Harbingers were fractured and their numbers dwindled.

Here, at the present, the Harbingers are survivors and split largely into two idealogies. Some want to break into the CDC and demand a cure. The others, they want to break into the FEDRA's headquarters and spread the VAD-12 into the main water supply via a water treatment and packaging facility outside the Perimeter. Mainly, though, the Harbingers are fighting for their survival.

You are among these Harbingers. Shape your future, and the future of the world alongside you, with your choices and decisions inside the Perimeter.



As a Harbinger, you gain access to the ability to manipulate certain things. These are called Powers. You are limited to one Power, and each have their advantages and disadvantages.


Blood is perhaps the most frightening and unstable harbinger of them all, and one that not many live to use for long. This power gives a harbinger the ability to manipulate blood. Bloodshed is your ally, and most blood harbingers are known for their blood-thirst. For blood harbingers, any blood is up for grabs, even one's own blood. This means that many blood harbingers bled out from accidental over-usage of their powers.

Manipulation blood is more than just using blood after it has been shed. As a blood harbinger becomes more experienced, they can take advantage of blood inside a body. This can be used to harm or help. A blood harbinger can clot a wound, keep a heart beating, destroy clots and slow a heart down, or stop a heart from beating entirely. A blood harbinger is an extreme danger in the battlefield for everyone around.




Concrete is the power of stability and sturdiness. Those who can create an manipulate concrete focus on what is know and what is right in front of them -- which is usually concrete.

To a degree concrete wielders can manipulate any kind of stone and lighter metals, but their specialty, what comes naturally to them, is concrete. To make concrete, one needs a source. A combination of dirt and stone, aluminum, or plastic, although dirt and stone is easiest. Harbinged concrete is noticeable by honeycomb-like lattices throughout the structure.




Ice is the power over one of life's main components. Ice harbingers can alter and manipulate the temperature of water to bring it to a boil or crash it to a freezing temperature. However, their true specialization is with frozen water. In that solid state, ice harbingers can freely manipulate water as if it is an extension of themselves.

For most ice harbingers, one must need a water source to use their power. The larger the water source, the easier it is that an ice harbinger can manipulate it. For most of ice harbingers, it is far easier to manipulate smaller pieces of ice than larger chunks of it. Unlike, say, concrete, ice rewards precision and accurate manipulations rather than large scale manipulation. During the entire manipulation process, ice harbingers struggle with the natural process of water going to its natural temperature in the area, which, in most cases, is liquid.




Slow, endless, and devastating, lava manipulation allows for pure destruction. Lava is the opposite side of destruction from lightning. Lava is imprecise, stable, and all but unstoppable. Lava does not discriminate. Either stay out of its way, or get stuck in the path of destruction.

Lava is not an ability that requires precision, but it does require extreme concentration. Lava requires deconstruction and immense amounts of energy poured into tough solids, like stones and metals. Be careless enough, and a lava harbinger might just melt themself before they can create any substantial enough magma to manipulate.

Once created, though, lava is hard to stop except by the harbinger themself.




Lightning is the power of manipulating energy, in far stronger aspects than other powers. Fast, strong, and unpredictable, a lightning harbinger uses energy to to course lightning from one area to another, usually from themself to something else.

Care for yourself, though, for lightning is the most energy intensive power. Lightning harbingers draw energy from sources to create a spark, which is how they begin their power. Sparks keep only so much energy to be used, and once a spark has been used, then lightning will draw energy from the nearest and largest power source. Usually, that's the harbinger themself. If a lightning harbinger is not careful enough, then they will burn themself out.




Neon is the power to make the intangible tangible. To bend light and color to your will, to create powerful manipulations out of nothing but light. Powerful neon users can use their tools for a high variety of different things.

For neon harbingers, light and color are all that they need. To start with, a neon harbinger needs a base of light. A reflection, a light source, a shine, and for those who are the most adept, some can activate neon powers through energy itself, not just light.

With a light source, a neon harbinger absorbs color. Their abilities change depending on the color absorbed. Absorbing the color drains it and the light. Neon users can only use their powers as long as there is still light to absorb. In complete darkness, most neon harbingers are useless. Once a neon harbinger harnesses their color, their power changes:

Orange: Heat
Blue: Cold
Green: Healing
Red: Harm
Yellow: Time Dilation -- Speed Up
Purple: Time Dilation -- Slow Down

Neon harbingers can also use neon generally, as power or a light source. They can also drain the light and hold the power in themselves.




Pheromones are silent weapons, and pheromone harbingers are silent assassins. There's nothing flashy about this power, but that doesn't make it any less deadly than the other harbinger powers. Pheromones are an unseen force, and a pheromone harbinger manipulates those unseen forces. These harbingers can use pheromones to make people more likely to like them, more likely to seem approachable, or more likely to be less seen by those not paying enough attention.

That, though, is just the beginning. Pheromones work on more than just humans...




Sand flows through fights with ease, having both strength and fragility. With practice, one can create glass with their sand for quick duels. Effective at fights, it doesn't have much strength, and cannot be formed back to sand. What sand lacks in their offensive capabilities, it more than makes up for utility and all around power.

Sand harbingers can break down the earth to make sand out of most any naturally forming formation, whether it be stone, gravel, clay, or even packed earth. With effort, sand can be created from harbinged concrete and man-made structures with cement and metals.

Sand itself is deceptively difficult to concrete, especially at large amounts. For most sand harbingers, it's far easier to manipulate small amounts of sand as a weapon rather than larger amounts of sand.




Fire is destruction, but smoke is deception. A single flame can draw out enough smoke to smother, and a campfire can black out the sky. A smoke harbinger can manipulate that harsher elements in the atmosphere to their advantage.

For smoke harbingers, their easiest way of power is through the smoke from a fire. But smoke harbingers can manipulate smog, thick vapors, and, to a point, fogs. Smoke manipulation can be widespread movement or thin, fluid like behaviors. With enough power, smoke harbingers can manipulate air itself, and create smoke with no fire needed.




One of the more unique powers, the harbinger ability of controlling vines is a special one. Unbeknownst to scientists whether or not vines and plants had a "mind" before the harbinger power unlocked access to it or it was created as a sort of peculiar side effect of the harbinger virus in the general water population. Regardless, vine harbingers can tap into this mindspace and use it to control them.

Be careful, though, for dealing with vines is no simple trick. No matter the speculations on the mindspace of vines, it is real enough to alter one's own mindspace if they are not careful enough.

Vines are a powerful but delicate ability, and not one to underestimate.





Character List

1. Darien Garcia - Vines
2. Reserved by SilverNight - Blood
3. Ilya Bowe - Smoke
4. Eve Arellano - AceassinoftheMoon - Neon
5. Reserved by KocoCoko - Fallout
6. Reserved by winterwolf0100 - Concrete
7. Onyx Cumulonimbus - Lightning
8. Orange - Sand
9. Roshan Singh - Lava
10. Eliot Sawyers - Ice
11. Ainsley Dean - Sand
12. Reserved by WeepingWisteria - Pheromones
13. Reserved by KateHardy - Ice

More spots available upon request

Code: Select all

[b]Name: [/b]
[b]Age: [/b]
[b]Pronouns: [/b]
[b]Sexual/Romantic Orientation: [/b]

[b]Personality: [/b]
[b]Appearance: [/b]'

[b]Ability: [/b]
[b]Ability Strengths: [/b]
[b]Ability Weaknesses: [/b]

[b]History: [/b]
[b]Where were you during Quarantine?: [/b]
[b]What is your stance towards FEDRA?: [/b]

[b]Other: [/b]


Darien started off this evening like most evenings at Black Swan Bouquets: his nose stuck deep in a book. So, there he was, flipping through the pages of what was, on the outside, a plant encyclopedia, but was actually the latest Percy Jackson book. He switched covers just to avoid suspicion if his boss walked in on one of her random errands. Handling a flower shop when the day started to wither to dusk was an easy enough job --just stand there and look pretty mostly-- but Darien had this assumption in his head that he should at least look a bit busy. Something like getting paid to do nothing felt off to him in his mind, but he didn't look too much into that.

So, Darien of course didn't notice when the bell of the front door jingled its announcement of a new customer. It must have happened during the middle of a pageturn, because there was no other way Darien wouldn't have heard that annoying little bell, right? He had heard it in his dreams before. Maybe he'd begun to drown it out... no no it was obviously the page turn.

So, it was a natural outcome for Darien to jump when he heard the quiet little "hello" from past his book. His posture became rigid and he all but nearly dropped the book. The voice came from a mouse of a man who looked like he fit right next to the definition of shy in the dictionary. He was shorter than Darien -- which was saying something, if Darien's friends had a say in it-- with a hunched over figure, an apologetic smile with smile lines that itched their way to crinkle around his blue eyes, rimmed behind thin oval glasses. That, combined with the peppering of white in his trimmed beard and around his temples, showed Darien all that he needed to know about this man.

Probably late thirties, early fourties. Timid man, his wife does all the decision making. Good job, probably in something to do with computers, judging by his posture. This man had probably never made a tough decision in his life before, at least not without assistance from some authority figure in his life. That would be his wife, so... angry wife.

Darien kept those thoughts off of his tongue and smiled warmly at the man. "Sorry about that. Heavy reading, there." he chuckled lightly to top off the joke, pointing to the book that lay on the counter now.

The man on the other end of the counter offered a slight nervous chuckle in response. Darien decided to give him a moment to seize the conversation, to take the lead on something he initiated. They sat there for long enough of a moment that Darien found it in the beginning lengths of being uncomfortable, and he realized: the moment he answered, he was now in the position of authority. So he cleared his throat. "Anyway, the name's Darien! You looking for some flowers?"

The man had seemingly snapped out of a haze and was now paying attention. "Hi, I-I'm just looking for some flowers for my wife, yeah..." Bingo, Darien called it.

"Of course! Special occasion?"

"Yeah, kind of..." The man trailed off.

Darien was obviously not gonna get anything out of the guy without digging for it. "Your wife got any favorite colors or flowers? We have some pre-thought out bouquets over here." Darien pointed over to the left side of the shop, walking out from behind the counter while he continued, mainly to fill any awkward silence. "Not pre-made, of course. We'll make it when you order it, but these are the combination of the most aesthetically pleasing and commonly available flowers."

"Okay, yeah." The man followed Darien to meagerly peek at the bouquet options.

"So, what colors does your wife like?" Darien prodded gently.

"Oh," the man blushed, like Darien had spoke aloud to him some sort of embarrasing revelation. "Well, she likes purples. To be honest with you, I don't even know if she'll like anything I get her."

Oh boy, this guy's deep in the dog house.

"Ohhh, gotcha. So, why flowers?" Darien asked.

"She does like it when I get her flowers." The man absentmindedly chuckled. "You see--" There we go. "--my wife's in the hospital. Her water broke two days ago. And I could only not work for so long..."

Oh. Darien wasn't right on the nose with this one. But, that was okay. He was more than fine with being wrong in scenarios like this.

"...so I'm wanting to get her something to say... well, to apologize for not being there when she needed it."

"That's very sweet," Darien said, and he genuinely meant that. He hoped it didn't come off as sarcastic, as nearly everything he said did, whether he intended it to or not. He then pulled away from the bouquets to pick a flower from a pot hanging from the window. "What about lilacs?" He handed one to the man, who observed it. "Cute, purple, and smell nice enough. A small amount is good enough to make a bouquet out of."

"I'm not sure..." The man kinda sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Well, he was about to be a father. Darien didn't know what kind of things were running through his head at that moment.

"No worries. How about..." He rummaged around a catalog that was connected to one of the shelves. "Ah, you know, we probably wouldn't want a flower that's a strong smell. If your wife's in labor when you get there, then she's not gonna be wanting a perfume's worth of flowers in her room."

"I didn't even think about that..." The man groaned, the kind of "this was a waste of my time" groan that usually meant he was about to leave.

"Don't worry. There's plenty of flowers that look nice and that's all. Let's see here... Ah. How about the Clematis?" Darien heaved the catalog off of its spot on the shelf and showed the man. "Large, beautiful, and with the way we grow them, practically no smell. Only a few will brighten up anybody's day." Darien let the guy give the picture a once over. "Sounds like a choice?"

"That sounds perfect. Thank you so much." The man's face looked ten times more relieved than his words allowed.

Sounded like a sale. "Okay! Gimme a minute, wait up there by the counter and I'll get it together for you." Darien picked four, no, five of the large flowers. They were large enough for one of them to be a wonderful centerpiece for any bouquet. He hoped the man didn't have a money issue on top of a wife issue.

Darien made short work of the bouquet, wrapping the final touches of it on the counter before ringing it up for the man. They exchanged thanks and business, and the man scampered out of the shop, now in a rush to get back to his wife. Poor guy, Darien thought. He was doing a great thing for his wife, but man Darien did not envy his life. Being that nervous or timid, not being able to make a decision for youself, and not even being able to have an opinion.

Darien most definitely couldn't relate.

That exchange, while a bit odd, left a smile on his face while he cleaned up the counter. Loose leaves, cut off in the attempt to make the centerpiece the flowers themselves, and speckles of dirt and nutrients. Digging out a wet washcloth from the cleaning bucket, Darien drained it, wringing it out, and streaked it across the glass. The washwrag left lines of rapidly evaporating water and and just the hint of suds.

When he was done with the cleanup, Darien grabbed his reading material once again, and glanced to the clock on the wall. 6:37. That sounded like a perfect time to start closing up.

He leaned against the counter and opened the book to where he left off. There was no bookmark --or time for a bookmark, with that jumpscare earlier, but with just a moment or two of re-reading, he found where he had left off. They were fighting a monster, and had jumped off a cliff to save each other. Classic Rick writing. It was... nothing spectacularly out of the ordinary, or even particularly good, but man was it good.

This time, though, Darien kept an eye on the door while he read. It didn't allow for as invested reading, but it did allow him to avoid another heart attack at the low, low age of twenty three.

He flipped a page, and the building shook. Or, at the very least, he thought the building shook. He could have sworn the building shook. He glanced up at the door warily, like an actual Percy Jackson-style monster was at the door, knocking and asking politely to come on in. A pit in his stomach plummeted, making him extremely nauseous, to the point of vertigo for a moment. It was like the house was warning him that something horrid was right outside.

Perhaps it was time to lock up. Yes, that sounded like a wonderful idea. It wasn't like anyone bothered to buy flowers in the evening, like an afterthought to the day. He grabbed the keys that were safely tucked underneath the register, and walked over to the front door. He glanced at the clock. 6:47. Close enough to seven, right?

He reached the door, and the building shook again. He wasn't imagining things if he imagined it a second time. That just works against the rules of imagining things --unless he was schizophrenic. He peered over the glazed door,. and couldn't really see anything. He heard sirens, though. Well, that was nothing out of the ordinary in a town like Atlanta. But, it was never something Darien could get used to.

Every time he heard sirens, he heard his mother getting rushed to the hospital for another life-threatening medical condition. One that was never curable, and required constant gaslighting before it was treatable.

Darien locked the door, turned off the "Open!" sign, and went to his closing duties. Closing a flower shop didn't really require all too much thinking. Just setting the time on the sprinklers mostly. But his boss wanted him to get inventory numbers, which, in Darien's eyes, were dumb. Trying to inventory flowers and seeds in a flower shop wasn't exactly an exact science. Like, hmm, a flower wilted today. That's one lost on the list. Oh, there's a sprout! Does that count as a seed or a flower, or do they need to wait a week before officially counting it. It's not like counting inventory in a convenience store. Soap boxes are pretty easy to count. Flowers? Not so much.

Sometimes Darien just made up numbers to see if his boss would notice, and, lo and behold, she never did. It was probably something to just keep him busy on the clock more, for which he was grateful for the money. But, gotta love the capitalist thinking of "you need to be doing something to get paid." At least it wasn't a fast food place. One year of working fast food was enough for several lifetimes.

He was in the back, "cataloguing" some lilacs that had bloomed, when he heard a booming knock on the front door, that sounded like it was shaking the entire building. A little bit louder, Darien thought, the greenhouse glass wasn't shattered yet. He tossed the clipboard onto the front desk counter and looked at the clock. 6:57. Who the hell was buying flowers this close to closing? He stood on his tippy toes to glance through the top of the door. There was a cop there, glancing around, and red-and-blue lights flashed past his narrow vision. Darien turned his back to the door and leaned against it, his heart pounding in his chest. What the hell? What happened?

His mom? He fished his phone out of his pocket. No notifications from his mom. Maybe there wouldn't be any, because she wasn't alive anymore. But, if his mom had known something was going to happen, she would have let him know. He tried to message her. No data? Did he forget to pay the bill?

The door shook with the force of the office knocking on it, and it rattled Darien's body. He rushed over to the counter to grab the keys again. Another pounding on the door. "I'm coming, I'm coming!" Darien shouted. "Good lord," he whispered.

Darien fiddled with the keys before finding the right one for the door, and slid it into the lock. The moment he turned the key, the door bursted open, and several people pushed past him, knocking him over. They were... not cops. Officers?

Darien was turned over to his stomach and his hands were forced into cuffs. Someone put their weight on his back. "I need you to listen to me, son," a gruff voice shouted into his ears, and he could still barely hear it over the pounding of his own heartbeat. "Do you hear me? Nod yes. Nod, now." Darien managed a forward tilt of his head. "Good, good. Now, you're gonna feel a little prick, okay. Nothin' harmful about it, but it needs to be done. Nod if you understand, all right?" Darien obliged the officer. "Good man."

He felt the mentioned prick, and the queasiness returned. Something was very, very wrong.

"Sir, another one." Darien heard.

"No," he managed to get out. "It's just me in here. What's going on?"

His questions were pointless. He was forced up to his feet and basically dragged out of the shop, whether his legs were complying or not. "Please, I need to see my mom!"

Once Darien got out of the shop, it felt like he could hear things again, and he heard so much. Sirens, screaming, and he tried to look around, to take as much in as he could. There were military vehicles all over the place, and countless soldiers. People were being shoved into squad carss, and he saw bodies just laying limp on the road.

"Wha--" Darien's question was interrupted by a rifle butt in the face. Dazed, he was forced into something... a bus? A squad car. He was being taken away.

The monsters had come, but they looked nothing like Darien read about in those stories. The squad car's door slammed shut, and Darien's eyes fluttered as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Roshan knew they'd always been clumsy, but setting paper cranes on fire was a new level of destruction. They stared at the small piece of origami on their desk, which was slowly self-immolating and giving off wisps of smoke as the white paper curled to black.

"How. Just how." Roshan huffed a sharp breath to extinguish the now-deformed crane, which promptly fell over and disintegrated into ashes. They dialed a number on their phone.

"Kaiiiiii. I set it on fire."

"You what?!" Roshan could just imagine their family friend's face. Caius Jeong would be looking at his phone in amazement, half-incredulous and half-annoyed. "Roshan, I sent you tutorials. I Facetimed you to go through it step-by-step. And then you went and set your crane on fire?"

"It just kinda happened." Roshan started sweeping up the ashes. Hopefully their roommate wouldn't mind the faint smell of smoke. They'd open the window, but Atlanta was humid even in the spring, and too much humidity made their hair frizz.

Kai spluttered. "Animal cruelty. Paper abuse." They sighed over the phone. "I'm sorry to say this, but I don't think origami is a good fit for you, Ro."

"Yeah, I figured." Roshan deposited the remnants of the crane into the trash can, then checked their watch. "Oh shoot, I need to get to the lab. Maybe I'll try baking next time?"

"NO. Do not. Please, I beg you." Kai sounded genuinely desperate. "You'll burn the whole dorm down."

Roshan laughed. "Fine, fine. Alright, see ya." They hung up, then grabbed their satchel and booked it across campus.

Looking at the Materials Research Laboratory always filled Roshan with a sense of excitement. The building had been built a few years ago, before Roshan had entered university but still fairly recently. Its rectangular shape was bordered by manicured lawns and flowers that opened their petals to the Georgia sun. Solar panels glinted on the roof of the Laboratory, and glass walls revealed researchers moving about inside, intent on their work. The air conditioning welcomed Roshan with a whoosh of cool air as they entered.

"Hey, Dr. Li." Roshan greeted their professor with a grin. "How's the new batch of polycrystalline silicon doing? Are the PV cells ready to sunbathe?"

The thirty-year-old-ish doctor was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt advertising some kind of tech company under her white lab coat. She was bent over a sleek computer that displayed colorful graphs and numbers, which were reflected faintly on her rectangular glasses.

"As far as I can tell." Dr. Li tapped away at something on her computer, then looked back up at Roshan. "Would you mind bringing down the panels from last week? We're going to need more room on the roof."

"Don't drop them!" a student called out lightheartedly from a neighboring computer. The researchers around them laughed. Roshan joined in, wincing a bit as they remembered the absolute silence there had been when they'd first dropped a panel and it had shattered, a few weeks into their research.

"Don't worry. I already ruined an origami crane this morning, so I think I've filled my clumsiness quota for today," they joked. Roshan didn't really mind the others ribbing them about their mishaps. Honestly, they just considered themself fortunate that they were able to do research and learn materials science at this university, and have friends and colleagues who accepted them for who they were, clumsiness and queerness and all. But... that was off-topic, and the last thing Roshan needed was to be teased for being a daydreamer on top of a klutz.

Dr. Li said, "Actually, it wouldn't be the worst thing to drop these. Their efficiency turned out to be fifty percent lower than current on-market rates. Still, do stay safe, and try not to make more work for the janitors. When you come back, get to analyzing the results for yesterday's tests."

Roshan saluted. "You got it, doctor."

The steel doors of the elevator slid open smoothly, and Roshan bounded inside, enjoying the clean grip of their new sneakers against the floor. They pressed the button for the roof.

The elevator ascended. Roshan tapped their foot.

Roshan froze. Was that... screaming coming from below them? They frowned, but the noise quickly faded. Had they just imagined it?

The elevator doors opened with a cheery ding, but Roshan was still unsettled as they stepped onto the roof. The sun beat down from a clear sky and reflected off the rows of solar panels arrayed across the roof.

Should I go down and check if there really was screaming? Roshan swiveled half a step, but the elevator doors were already closing. Well, maybe I'll just get those solar panels quickly and then go check.

Roshan felt a little lightheaded as they walked across the roof. The air clung to their skin like a wet paper towel. They shielded their eyes from the sun that was creeping up the sky and scanned the solar panels for the ones that they'd placed up there last week.

"Aha." Roshan found the cart of solar panels. "So you guys didn't do so great, hmm? That's alright. I'm sure you did your best."

Sometimes Roshan had a habit of talking to inanimate objects. Usually when no one else was around. It was comforting, in a way-- almost like talking to yourself, except talking to things instead. Okay, that sounded a bit like Roshan was going crazy, which they swore they weren't.

But right now, they did feel a little... strange. Heat stroke or dehydration, maybe? They were almost back to the elevator now. They'd have to get some water.

Once Roshan was back in the coolness of the elevator, they breathed easier. Probably was just the heat. They carefully positioned the cart so it was in front of them, so it'd be easier to wheel out when the elevator doors opened.

But when the doors opened, Roshan froze once again as a tablet flew past their face, missing by two inches. In front of them, a researcher was sobbing and pounding the table. At another table, the student was wailing, "My dataaaaa! I can't believe I didn't save for two hours!"

"Ooookay." Roshan swiveled their head around, taking in the state of the room and trying to avoid any more flying tablets as they wheeled the cart to Dr. Li. "Dr. Li, what happened?"

The doctor frantically pounded at the keyboard. She muttered, "Internet cut out. Could you check if other places are affected?"

Roshan nodded. Well, that explained the sobbing, if people happened to be using web apps that didn't autosave. They left the cart there and strode quickly out of the building.

The sun hit them with a vengeance and illuminated the campus with a harsh brightness. Roshan staggered a step. They leaned on the wall for balance. They blinked, and the world seemed to shift. People. Coming toward them.

They swallowed dryly. Yep, definitely should've dranken more water. As they slipped and fell into the sun, they thought they could feel their skin burning up like the origami crane from the morning. Their eyelids lowered.

"Did the kid faint?"

"Looks like it." Someone approached them, and they dimly felt a prick. "Another one. Well, makes our job easier."

Just as Roshan slipped into unconsciousness, they felt themself being lifted, and they were suddenly amused. Cranes-- flying! Too close to the sun... Mmm. I want tacos.

"Listen, Orange. I know it might be scary, but this is what's best for us. I promise I'll keep you safe, alright? Forever."

Orange blinks out of his stupor, looking around at an unfamiliar alleyway. Oh right, he remembers, we escaped from that orphanage thing whatever place and now we're out in downtown Atlanta by ourselves. Sometimes it doesn't even feel real-- the escape from years ago.

The downtown Atlanta in question was nothing like he expected. Orange always imagined the city with a rosy filter. He imagined it with lush, green parks and cheerful pedestrians strolling down the sidewalks. Instead, it's more of a urban district filled more with the revving of car engines and less of the chatter of people.

There must be fun places somewhere, but definitely not where they are at the moment.

"Orange? What's up?" his sister says, noticing his dark expression.

"Um, did you say something, Kaylee?"

"No? It was really quiet. You must have been dreaming. What did you hear?"

"Nothing important. Some words from a long time ago, I guess."

Orange has no way of knowing how long they've been roaming the streets of Atlanta. He wonders if they've been so separated from the civilized world that they could no longer be considered humans anymore. Something Kaylee liked to call people was 'brainless monkeys', but perhaps they were the real monkeys, hopping around the city savagely.

"It must be that strange water you drank the other day," Kaylee says, giggling. Her hair is much shorter now, compared to when they were in the adoption agency. Now that they're living outside, it's harder to maintain cleanliness, though they try their best.

"No way! It was definitely clean. I tried it myself!"

"Exactly!" Kaylee says, laughing much harder than before. She clutches her stomach, doubling down, giggling uncontrollably. Sometimes, Orange regrets leaving the adoption agency. Their days together aren't always fun and games, but moments like this that they never could have shared in the confines of that wretched building are what keeps him going.

It was at that moment that everything ended. When everything shattered, and the world fell apart. Orange never thought of himself as someone important, but it was from that point forward that he knew the world must be out to get him.

"Attention, citizens of Atlanta. The following is a message from the Federal Environmental Disaster Relief Agency. If you are hearing this message and you are located in downtown Atlanta, please evacuate promptly. Please pack lightly and evacuate as quickly as possible. Attention, citizens of Atlanta . . ."

The message repeated itself, and at a very high volume, too. It was sudden that Orange and Kaylee barely had time to react.

"What should we do?" Orange asks, looking for some guidance from his sister. Perhaps a rousing speech or a motivational hug. Something is wrong. He can feel it. He just doesn't know what it is yet.

"Orange, do you see that?"

"See what? You mean the broadcast? I hear it, yeah," he replies, looking down the street to ascertain where the sound is coming from. It seems like the message is being broadcast from every direction.

"No, that's not what I'm talking about. Look the other way!"

Orange turns his head, and sure enough something is happening on the other end of the street. Marching down the street is a large group of what seems to be officers of sort. Some random passerby are captured and injected with some sort of substance.

"Are they cops? Maybe we can ask them for help," Orange suggests.

Kaylee says darkly, "I don't know who they are, but they're definitely not police. We need to run deeper into the city, quickly."

"Didn't they say we need to evacuate?"

"We can't evacuate, Orange! Don't you get it? We're runaways. What will we do if they ask us where our parents are? What will we do when they find out they're dead? What will we do when they find out we should be with the adoption agency right now? We need to run deeper into the city and we need to do it quickly."

Kaylee's explanation makes sense, so he follows her as they make their way through the maze of alleyways. There's no way they can be found in the labyrinth of downtown Atlanta, or so he assumes.

Fortunately, there's a light drizzling rain, further helping conceal their presence. If the two of them can hide out in this place until the evacuation ends, they should be fine.

"Who's there?" a voice shouts from behind them, "You need to evacuate!"

They've been found. Orange glances back and sees a group of those same officers from before. Kaylee grabs Orange's arm and starts sprinting in the opposite direction, making a turn. It's clear that the officers are giving chase, as Orange can hear their constant shouting from behind.

Kaylee makes a left, and more enforcers appear in front of them. Backpedalling, they go through a different alley.

Suddenly, Orange trips, and falls to the ground. He gets wet and muddy, but he quickly scrambles back up. Unfortunately, as he was down, the officers managed to surround them from both ends of the alley.

"Relax. We're not here to hurt you," the officer says calmly, "You need to evacuate. This district is going to be very dangerous from here on out."

Kaylee says nothing, and stands in front of Orange protectively.

"Wait, captain," another officer interrupts, "They could be . . . you know."

Their demeanor changes instantly. Immediately it seems like they go into 'business mode', and begin to advance toward them.

"Don't touch us!" Kaylee shouts, holding Orange tightly. The Officers immediately inject something strange into both of them. He feels a wave of nausea roll across his body, and a sudden feeling of wanting to throw up.

"That boy. He's one of them, but not the girl," says an officer.

"Look, girl," the first officer says, "You're gonna need to leave. Your friend here will have to stay. It's very dangerous here."

"No! I'm staying with my brother!" Kaylee says angrily.

The officers look a bit taken aback. They seem to not have expected that reaction. The officers huddle together to discuss what to do. In that moment, Orange feels a surge of adrenaline and grabs Kaylee, running away as fast as he can. He's still nauseous from the injection, but pushes his tired legs as hard as he can. For a moment, he feels like he can do it. They can escape, just like they did from the adoption agency. Now they'll escape from these officers and hide in the city, just the two of them. They'll suffer, for sure, but at least they'll have each other. If I have my sister, I don't need anything else.

BANG!

Kaylee goes limp, and falls to the ground. Orange stops in his tracks, screaming in disbelief. There's a thin hole in the back of her head, and he watches as a dark red pool of blood begins to form. The rain quickly washes much of it away, but it still grows.

He can't even form words. As the officers surround him and point guns at his head, he's still screaming. As they take Kaylee away, restraining him to the ground, he's still screaming. As they tell him it's his fault she's dead, he's still screaming.

He screams and screams until his throat is dry, until his voice his gone. He doesn't even know what's happening or what's around him or where he is. He clutches his head, curled up on the ground, the rain battering down on him. He doesn't stop screaming until perhaps an hour later.

He's not sleeping, but his eyes are closed. He can't bear to look at this world that has taken his only family away.

"Listen, Orange. I know it might be scary, but this is what's best for us. I promise I'll keep you safe, alright? Forever."

He whispers hoarsely, "You liar."

And for the first time in his fifteen years of life, Orange is alone.

The bell rang, and Ainsley walked out of her school. She just barely avoided getting her face shoved into a toilet again. Good thing she had jokes about a blind man talking to his deaf dog. Sure, it was kind of cruel, but if it helps to keep your face away from where someone has probably had an explosion, she'd tell them a million times.

She didn't like her current foster home. She was ignored most of the time, so they shouldn't notice her going missing for a few hours. The only time she actually got their attention is when she accidentally broke a jar of sand. Which was kind of weird. She swore she hadn't been holding onto it that strongly. And the sand didn't just fall, but it sprayed everywhere. That was such a pain to clean up.

At this point she might as well consider herself a homeless. The only thing she didn't have in common with one is that she didn't stink as bad. But for now, that was pushed aside. She actually had someone who wanted her to do art for them on the wall of their building. She walked up to the building, and a man walked out.

"Ainsley, right?" The man asked. Ainsley nodded.

"That's me." Oh, hello shift in gender.

"Good. Here's your prompt." He handed him a folder, and as Ainsley read it the man went inside his shop. This guy wanted something so simple. This was ridiculously simple. He didn't know whether to feel insulted or not. A few pebbles at his feet crumbled to fine grains without him realizing. Ainsley tossed away the papers, and started working.

The thing with art for Ainsley was that he looked like he was in deep concentration, but really he was sort of just zoning out. The dude from the shop came back out with a chair, and watched. Ainsley fumbled, not used to people watching, but integrated the mistake into the design to make it look like it was a part of it, intentional. In fact, he lost track of time. That was, until he was interrupted.

"This isn't what I requested." The man said. Ainsley stopped painting and looked at him. He was about to be snippy, but the man spoke before he could. "It's has more of a uniqueness now. Please, continue."

He motioned for Ainsley to continue and Ainsley couldn't decide whether that had been an insult, praise, or just a comment. It seemed too soon that he was interrupted again.

"Kid, drop the paintbrush." Ainsley looked over to see the he was surrounded by... cops? officers? law enforcers? The other man was being pricked by one. He was so... compliant.

"I'm not doing anything illegal now, am I?" He asked.

"We aren't going to hurt you." The guy crept forward. Ainsley kept distance.

"Uh-uh. My mother told me not to trust strangers with needles."

"It's not going to hurt a bit. See the guy there? He's fine."

"How about no- hey!" The man quickly grabbed Ainsley's arm, and pricked him. He immediately felt like puking. What did they do?!

From somewhere outside his watery vision he heard the man say "We've got another one!"

What do they mean? Ainsley thought, while groaning. He was lifted by the arms and half dragged to a vehicle. He was only halfway in before his consciousness slipped away.