Blake Aurora

[Enzyme97]

This story is a work in progress. Also, I am aware of the identical last name to the station. I have used this character on various other stations and refuse to change it. This story is from Blake's point of view.

I never thought I would end up this way. To be honest, I assumed I was going to be a miner like my father. I hoped to be a research scientist after my many years of schooling. The universe had other plans for me. I was born on New Magnitka in 2428 to two loving parents. Yeah, New Magnitka, the shit hole. My father spent more time with a pickaxe in his hands than he did with me as a child. My mom was the one who raised me by her side. I can’t remember the guy who quoted it, but he once said “A man is only what his mother raised him to be.” It was true. I owe everything I am to my mother. I went to NanoTrasen’s typical brainwashing school program. I learned the basics, math and science. They would have taught us history, but even they knew New Magnitka’s history was more boring than watching paint dry. Despite my father spending the majority of his life in a mining shaft, I was fairly close to him. He was the one who got me into basketball. Basketball was an important part of my life growing up and to that, I thank him. There must of been three basketball courts in all of New Magnitka. The one I went to was decently close to my apartment complex. It was a piece of shit, don’t get me wrong. It was covered in fences and had a chain net. Back then, I didn’t have much to complain about. Everyday after school i’d go to the courts, either alone or with my dad, and take some shots. As the years progressed I got less and less awful, to the point where it became my number one pastime. By the time I was 15, my dad got pretty sick. The working conditions for the miners were horrible, making it too easy to contract a respiratory infection. A lot of miners got them and it passed within a week, but my dad’s was here to stay. It took a large chunk out of who he was, to the point where he couldn’t say more than two sentences without going into a coughing frenzy. He was too weak to continue to work and the operation was too expensive. I decided to abandon my dream of becoming a researcher and started picking up my dad’s shifts to collect some cash. The miner’s pay was way below minimum wage. It seemed like every time I started to collect a lot of money toward Dad’s surgery, it would be consumed by taxes and the grocery bill. It didn’t help that as the years progressed, the pay became smaller and the taxes grew larger. By the time I was 20, I managed to collect just enough for Dad’s surgery and all the expenses for day to day living. It wasn’t easy, but I did it. By this time, Dad was awful. I knew we had to get the surgery done as soon as possible or he wouldn’t make it the month. I set up the schedule and collected all the cash needed. It must have been the day before the surgery when a huge tax increase flooded through New Magnitka. There had been talks about the research of Phoron, but it didn’t seem like a huge priority. Boy, were we wrong. They pried the hard earned cash from my hands and dumped it into the finances toward the newly discovered plasma. I wasn’t the only one pissed. This caused a massive riot the week following, which would soon lead to a full blown revolt. I don’t know what pissed me off more, the New Magnitka government or the rioters. The riots made it impossible to mine, which meant I couldn’t begin to rebuild the funding for my Dad. Before I could even manage to gather a piggy bank full of cash, Dad passed. I remember that day like it had happened just yesterday. I was suiting up to go to work, overalls on and all, when my mom let out a high pitched scream. I ran to their bedroom to find him dying. I quickly ran to my dad’s side, his head turned to me at the speed of a snail. His eyes were drooped into his sockets to the point where it was near impossible for him to see. He grabbed my hand and clenched it with whatever strength he had left. He then muttered loud enough for me to make out, “Blake, I love you so much.” Within a second of him saying that, his eyes rolled back into his skull. His stiff body went limp and his facial expressions were lifeless. I let go of his hand and it just slumped to the side of the bed. I could tell my mom was staring at me, so I attempted to hide my grief. Instead of crying, I launched my right fist six inches deep into the dry wall. That night I just sat on my bed in my small room, looking out the window. I could see the sea of fire in the center of the city, exploding from the earth like blow holes on a whale. Due to Martial Law, the power had been cut on the buildings. The only thing that illuminated my pitch black room were the distance fires from the rioter’s molotovs. I laid back down on my bed and stared at the NanoTrasen poster on my wall. It was a man in a red and black New Magnitka general uniform saying “We want you!” while pointing directly at me. Under the man was the ominous “NanoTrasen” in big blue and white letters. The only ones that had it worse than us originally were the ones on the NanoTrasen Research Stations. Now, I don’t know who was better off. I stood off of my bed and gripped a large corner on the side of the poster. With one fluid swipe, I ripped the poster right off the wall. We buried my father in the back yard. We managed to bind two large sticks together for a gravestone. It wasn’t what a good man like him deserved, but it was all we could afford. I sat on my dad’s bed, holding the .38 revolver from his cabinet. I was depressed and felt like my life was completely meaningless. I knew I would just die in poverty throughout this revolt. I decided to leave it up to fate and loaded the revolver with a single round. If the bullet didn’t go off, i’d do whatever it took to live out the rest of my life moderately comfortable. If the bullet did go off… Well… I’d paint the white wall paper red. I gave the holster of the ammunition a hefty spin before sending it into the body of the rolver. I looked out the window at the fire covered streets before pressing the barrel to my temple. I pulled the trigger slowly, feeling the cylinder magazine spin in place. I shut my eyes tight until I heard the relieving clicking sound. I had recieved my answer. I stood up, my hands still shaking rapidly. As I moved toward the door, I heard a loud commotion outside. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to hear shouting at this point, but this was right outside my window. I moved toward the window, looking four stories down at the street. There was a large crowd circled around a group of people. Two New Magnitka guards stood in the center with high powered assault rifles in their arms. Beside them was a Sergeant, noticeable by his blue beret. He was holding some sort of rag over his nose, completely drenched in blood. Another officer crouched next to him, pressing a young Slade Radcliff on the muddy ground, handcuffs detaining Slade. Slade looked directly at his brother who had been forced to his knees. Two men came out of the adjacent apartment complex, dragging a woman and a man by their clothing. The man’s legs were lying in awkward positions, noticeably paraplegic. I was slightly confused, not being fully exposed to the brutality of the revolt yet. Then the officer behind Slade’s brother removed a .44 Magnum from his belt holster. He slowly raised the magnum in the air, taking as much time as he pleased. His brother did not break eye contact with Slade, attempting to reassure him. The officer pressed the barrel to the back of Slade’s brother’s head, pulling back the hammer with his thumb. “This is what happens when you steal from the government.” The officer said, clear enough for the entire crowd to hear. “No!” Slade shouted, attempting to throw the officer off of his back. Slade was cut off by the sound of bullet cracking out of the barrel. Slade, and anyone in the splash zone, was covered in blood and particles of brain. I stepped back from the window, absorbing all I had just seen.

I made my way to the market, attempting to get as much food as possible before we were no longer able to. I kept the fully loaded .38 revolver in my waistband, in case I was attacked by any rioters. The pouring rain made it impossible to see more than 20 feet in front of me. As I moved down the street, I could see the full effects of the riots already. Tires had been burned in the middle of the roads, causing a large amount of black smoke to cover the sky. Broken bottles laid on the other side of vacant barriers. You couldn’t walked three feet without stepping on a bullet casing. As I came within view of the market, I noticed it was heavily occupied by New Magnitka guards. I assumed that their way of ending the revolt was to starve us. I sighed before turning back on me heels and making my way back to my apartment. As I walked back, I saw rioters scattering toward the buildings with assault rifles in their arms. From what I had seen, this was no revolt; it was a civil war. I noticed a lot of people running and shouting away from my apartment. I sprinted toward it, unsure of what was going on. As I moved through the crowd, I saw rioters firing out of the top windows of my apartment down at police units. The gunfight was a terrifying sight. Rioters would have their brains blown out before falling back through the window, police units would be turned into swiss cheese from the raining bullets. The police units moved out of the way as a large New Magnitka riot control tank rolled down the street. It moved over several cars, crushing them under its sheer weight. The large barrel of the riot control tank moved toward the foundation of the building. My eyes widened as I realized my mom was still in their. The rioters ran back into the building, shouting in horror. “Wait!” I shouted toward the tank. It was futile. The tank fired a shell into the base of the apartment, tearing right through it. Concrete spat back out of the hole created by the shell. The walls crumbled down and the large complex collapsed into a landfill of rubble and debris. “Mom!” I shouted, sprinting through the wall of officers. I attempted to make my way up the mountain of brick, but I was caught on the arm by an officer. I used my momentum to turn around and connect the side of my fist against the officer’s helmet. The officer stumbled back, letting go of me. Before I could move another foot, an officer grabbed both of my arms and pulled me into his chest. I managed to get my arm free, slamming my elbow into the officer’s head. The officer let go of me and fell back slightly. I spun around and connected my fist with the side of his visor. Before he could recover I connected a left hook to the other side of his face. This caused my knuckles to cut drastically and the officer’s visor to break off of his helmet. Fueled by anger; I pounded two shots into his exposed face, feeling his nose crunch under my three front knuckles. The officer fell on his back, his blood covering his face. Two guards came up behind me and grabbed both of my arms. Another officer came in front of me with a baton. He slammed the tip of the baton against my stomach, briefly knocking the wind out of me. As he went to swing at me again, I sent my right foot into his chest. This knocked the officer onto his back, tripping over his feet. The two officers forced me to my knees, still holding my arms. The officer next to the tank walked in front of me, unsheathing his handgun. He cocked the slide back on the gun before sending his aim onto my head. “Hold it.” A sergeant walked toward us, arms behind his back. “Is this man apart of the rebellion?” “We believe so, sir.” the sergeant examined me, a look of disgust plastered on his face. “Bring him in. We’ll find out what he knows.” “Yes, sir.” Responded the officer, immediately putting his handgun back into his holster. The two officers pulled me onto my feet and dragged me against a building wall. They pressed my body against the wall, forcing my head against it with their hand. The officer tapped my leg with the baton, making me spread my legs. They then proceeded to check me. It didn’t take them long to find the revolver in my waistband. “Contraband.” The officer said holding it, speaking to another officer with an electronic clipboard. “It was for protection…” I said through my teeth. “We are your protection.” The officer responded, emotionlessly. “Oh, I can tell. Thanks.” I said sarcastically. “No problem.” The officer responded, sheathing his clipboard in his pouch. The officer looked to the others, “Proceed.” The officers nodded before looking back to me. I felt the baton connect with my lower rib, causing me to let out a loud grunt. One of the officer’s holding me against the wall kicked me behind the leg, sending me to my knees. The officers grabbed me by my arms and pulled me to the ground. They then proceeded to beat the living shit out of me for the next six and a half minutes. After my grueling beating, they dragged me back to a large police transporter. I only sustained a nasty black eye and what seemed to be three bruised ribs from their “procedure”. They threw me in the back of the transporter with a bunch of other rebels. Some of them looked worse than me, none of them better off. We were thrown around in the back of the transporter in almost near complete darkness, only a small light on the roof providing the tiniest bit of light. It was cramped in the back of the vehicle. The prisoners, us, sat on the side benches while the two armed officers sat on the far back wall. We had all been handcuffed prior to being shoved in here. At first I didn’t think much of the prisoner in the center on the opposite bench. He looked to be in his mid thirties, a large beard covering his face. He looked to the man next to me and gave a grin. The man next to me nodded back to him, looking to the prisoners right next to the guards. The prisoner on the right of one of the guards shot up his foot, knocking it off of the guard’s jaw. The guard fell back against the other guard. The prisoner closest to the other guard stood up, slightly slouched due to the lack of headspace. He repetitively beat the guards with his handcuffed fists. The other prisoner also got up and beat on the guards. The man with the beard spat out a key from his mouth, catching it in his handcuffed hands. He proceeded to unlock his cuffs before passing the key around. The guards continued to struggle, however, they were too outnumbered to overpower. The man next to me looked at me with a smile. “Here you are, brother.” The man said, going to hand me the key that had been passed around. Right before I was in grasp of the key, the man with the beard shouted, “Brace yourselves!” Suddenly a large force knocked me off of the bench. The back of the transporter seemed to roll onto it’s side. The light on the roof had been smashed by a foot, leaving the back of the transporter in complete darkness. We remained in the darkness, piled on top of one another, for what seemed to be hours. Suddenly, there was a pounding on the door. The door broke open, letting in a flood of light. We all shielded our eyes, not use to the light just yet. Three blurry figures looked into the back of the transporter. My first thought was that they were New Magnitka officers. As my eyes adjusted, I realized they were rioters. They held cheap assault rifles, but they looked like they got the job done. They began to get us out of the back one by one. As one of the rioters was helping me out, a bullet struck him in the back. The man collapsed on top of me, dead. Bullets began to fly everywhere, striking around the transporter. I pushed the corpse off of me to see six officers firing at us. The rioters returned fire, blocking us with their backs. I quickly grabbed the holstered handgun of the dead rioter. With my hands still cuffed in front of me, I got up and began to sprint in the opposite direction. I ran toward an apartment complex, sending my shoulder into the back door. I ran toward the stairs with the intention of hiding. I as I got onto the second floor, I saw a platoon of officers. They had not noticed me and were piled up against the door to a room. “Breaching!” The officer in front shouted. He then sent his foot to the door, breaking it off of it’s frame. They all piled into the room, assault rifles up. I quickly back tracked toward the stairs at full speed. I ran up the stairs to the third floor. As I went to step out, I made eye contact with four officers. They eyed me up and down, seeing the handcuffs on my wrists and the handgun in my hand. “Hey!” the one in the middle shouted. I sprinted back toward the stairs, the four of them hot on my tail. I made my way toward the door to the roof, hearing the footsteps stomping close behind me. I emptied my shoulder into the door, bouncing off of it slightly. I stumbled back, seeing the door was still closed. The footsteps got louder and louder, the sounds of guns clattering became more distinct. I raised the handgun and fired a round into the metal door hinge. I then raised my foot and slammed it next to the door handle. The door broke open, causing a flock of crows to flutter off the roof. I ran to the center of the roof before stopping in my tracks. I looked left in right, unsure where to go. “Freeze!” I heard behind me. The officers had made it onto the roof. I shook my head, telling myself this was stupid. I sprinted toward the edge of the building, hearing gunshots behind me. One of the bullets exploded on the gravel next to my right ankle, spitting up dust. Just before the ledge of the building, I jumped right off. One of the stray bullets scraped my leg, tearing off two layers of skin. I began to plummet down toward the opposite apartment building. As I neared toward a glass window, I crossed my handcuffed arms over my face to protect myself. I smashed through the glass window, propelling me into the third story apartment room. I fell through the glass onto a wooden chair, which broke instantly under my weight. I skidded across the wooden floor before resting on a pile of broken glass and splinters of wood. My dazed vision fixed on the roof I had just jumped off. I stared at the officers on top of the roof, who stared right back at me. My vision began to go dark, giving off the illusion I was going blind. I then fell into a slumber, unconscious.

I awoke dazed, for a moment forgetting where I was. I seemed to be at a more elevated point then where I was prior to falling unconscious. I realized I had been slumped on a chair in the apartment room. Three New Magnitka officers were in the room around me. They were turning furniture over, looking for clues. I kept my eyes shut, not wanting them to know I was conscious. The door to the bedroom opened up, revealing an older civilian in a nightgown. In his hands was a pump shotgun, scanning the room. The officers quickly looked to him raising their guns to him. “Woah! Wait!” The man said, horror in his face. “Drop the weapon!” The officer ordered. This was my chance. I quickly shot up off the chair toward the broken window. I jumped out of the three story window before anyone had a chance to react. I landed on a dumpster in an alley between the two buildings. I bounced off of it as if it were an inflatable bounce house. I shot against the wall of the alley, slumping down. “After him!” I heard from the apartment building. I got onto all fours, my hands still handcuffed in front of me. I managed to get back onto my feet, sprinting down the alley. I heard a loud bang behind me, similar to when I jumped on the dumpster. As I ran down the alley, I reached an unlocked gate to the sewers. I quickly opened the gate and closed it behind me. Before I continued running, I saw a New Magnitka officer running close behind. I continued to run down the dark sewer. I saw an opening in the wall as I ran. I quickly jumped into the opening, just able to fit my body inside. The footsteps got closer, the sound of boots clicking together got within feet of me. I saw a body move in the tunnel. The officer pulled his flightlight from his belt. The blinding light shined down the tunnel, revealing that it was a dead end. He knew I was in here. The flashlight scanned across the tunnel before stopping on me. I lunged at the officer catching him off guard. I landed on top of him, pressing the slack of my handcuffs around his neck. The officer gaged, attempting to kick me off. He managed to get a foot under my chest and kicked me off. I landed next to a tool box, the officer getting on his feet. I reached into the tool box, gripping a construction hammer. The officer, not seeing the hammer in my hands, grabbed me by my shirt and picked me up. I quickly sent the hammer down on his visor, knocking him on his back. I jumped back on top of him, pinning his arms down with my knees. I smacked the hammer against the visor multiple times, breaking it off the body of the helmet. The only thing protecting his face now was a thin layer of clothing from his balaclava. I slammed the hammer against his face, causing him to shout in pain and kick his feet around frantically. I continued to smash the hammer against his skull until he was no longer shouting or moving. I stood off of the officer, blood dripping from the hammer. I dropped the hammer by my side, looking down at him. He was no longer recognizable, the balaclava almost stuck inside of his head. Even though it was dark, it was clear he no longer looked human. I slumped on the opposite side of the wall, looking down at him. I felt warm tears streak my face as I buried my face in my hands. I began to sob uncontrollably, begging god for forgiveness. Everything had happened so fast. This was the first time I had time to process everything that had happened in the past 38 hours. I know it’s hard to imagine, but back then I wasn’t the type of kid to bludgeon someone’s head in and feel emotionless after. Taking your first life is a lot like having your first kiss, you never forget it. It’s especially worse if your first kiss was horrible, and killing someone like that wasn’t especially pleasant. After bitching for the next ten minutes or so, I decided it was time to unlock myself and get the hell out of there. I searched the corpse for a key, fighting my gag reflexes, and found one almost instantly. I unlocked my cuffs and tossed them next to the corpse. I didn’t even want to think about grabbing the gun.

[Fiskap]

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[Enzyme97]

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Yup