Genre: Romance/Drama/Alternative Universe.

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Just my imagination and if iCarly was mine, it would be called iFreddie by now, so. Dan Schneider (Le Nickelodeon Troll) owns everything.

Pairings: Sam/Freddie – Seddie! Brad and Carly – Barly. Maybe Wendy and Gibby, but I don't know who you call that… Wibby?

Summary: They live in an alternative universe, above ashes of war. The horror seems to stop when a religious organization takes over the entire nation, organizing the chaos. They live under new rules now; everything should be organized and properly prepared. Even the marriages should be carefully planned. Alternative universe, maybe a bit OCC, I don't know yet. Inspired in this amazing THG fic called Five Loaves of Bread: Dark Toast


My name is Freddie Benson and I am eighteen. I live in a world covered in ashes, bones and remains from the ones we once knew and loved. It's hard to express what you feel when you watch the ones you care for being executed in front of you. There was no order, only chaos, and death. A long time ago hell broke loose, and there was nothing no one could do to stop it. All we could do was fight for salvation, and the aftermath wasn't pretty.

It's true what they say, that war changes you, it does. In many ways, more than you can imagine. I've been through some tough times in my life, but nothing can be compared to watch someone die right in front of you. Whenever you kill someone, a little piece of your soul dies too. No matter who that person was, it kills you to kill anyone. I could go through every detail, and tell you the whole story, but there are some things my mind couldn't process yet. There are some things my brain pushed to the side, so I wouldn't have to deal with the pain.

So I'm going to make it easy on all of us, I'm going to simplify and give you as many details as I can. When World War III began, I was twelve. I used to watch it on the news, hiding under the dining room table so my parents wouldn't see me. They didn't want me to have any part of it, but that wasn't something they could control. Everything started down at the Middle East, then Africa, and soon hit the Europe. Before we knew, every capable man was being called for duty, whether you had military training or not. It wasn't something you could choose, or decide, the choice was made for you. I watched my father, a middle aged doctor, being dragged out of our house to serve his country. Or so they say.

Nine months later, he was dead. They shipped him back in a wooden coffin so we could bury him. He died from several gunshots from a Russian soldier. My life was never the same. When you think things can't get any worse, Seattle was being under attack, the military bases being bombed and several civilians murdered in the streets every day. We were running out of man, and the government feared not having enough soldiers to fight when the battle hit the catastrophic level. Next thing I know, a soldier knocked on our door, ordering my mother to serve as a nurse in the battle field, ordering me to pack my stuff so we could go.

But go where exactly, he didn't say. Something inside of me knew, that one night, was the last night I would ever see my mom, I just knew it. The soldier was an older man, maybe around his late thirties, just like my father, later I found out he was captain of division in Seattle. Apparently the arm was low on men, and they had to take whatever they could, no matter the age, no matter the experience or lack of therefore. The experiment started on China, they recruited and trained children over twelve years old and transformed them in combat dolls. The word got out and every other desperate army decided to try it out.

I was dragged out of my house right to a military base downtown, thrown into a cubic sized room and told to wait. I was scared, so scared I thought I was going to piss my pants. The first three hours were cold, and lonely. I lay on the top bunk bed and waited for my mother to come and get me. I waited uselessly for someone to come for me. No one did. The next morning, I was told to change into my new clothes and go outside to the patio. The place where I was going to be trained and prepared for battle. I was told I had a duty with my country, and it was time to serve.

It's true when they say people get used to everything in life. It's true, during the darkest of the times, you learn to live with what you can get, and for years on end, it's been like that for me. I was trained, prepared and molded to become whatever they wanted me to be. I watched several boys of my age, or older, crying and begging to go home. The military wasn't as tolerant as our school teachers, not even the worse ones, like Mr. Howard. I'm not trying to brag or anything, but to be fairly honest, I never cried. Not even the hardest tasks, not even during punishment, not ever. It was like every tear was drained right off me when I saw my mother for the last time.

Turned out that the soldier who picked me up was one of my fathers' "colleagues" or so. They served together, and he was there when my father was shot dead. Captain Sullivan, as well known as Gunsmoke. They weirdest of the men I've ever laid eyes on. Fact is, my father saved his life during an attack and he felt like he owned him, so he took me under his wing. Truth it made my life a lot easier.

I've been in training center for two years, I've learn more ways to kill a man that you could ever imagine. By the time I was fourteen I was thrown in action. Me and the other guys of my age were separated and placed in different unities, mixed with the older soldiers. We were as experienced as we would ever be, and ready for anything. After two years, I've watched many kids turned into killing machines, monsters, godless souls. But Gunsmoke never let me become one of them, and because of him I still understood what humanity was. And because of him I praise myself for being able to save a few souls. My roommate, Brad, who came right from Chicago, ripped off his grandma's arms and thrown into a military base at the age of thirteen. And this other kid from my old school, Pete. In two years we became real soldiers, but not one day that went by I let them forget what it feels like to be a human.

My first time in battle was scary as hell. You spend two years learning, so you think you're ready, but when hell breaks loose, and all you have is training field experience, the shit hits you hard. Then you realize that no matter what you do, you'll still be a rookie, you're not prepared. Everything goes into fast mode, and goes by so fast, you have to clutch tightly on your gun so you don't drop it, because your hands are shaking and you don't trust your own fingers. The gunshots almost make you deaf, but you have to concentrate on the enemy, otherwise you'll just shoot one of your companions, that's called friendly fire, and trust me, you cannot live with the guilty of killing your own.

Everything happens really fast, when you're thrown in battle, there's not much time to think about strategy and actions; you have to go with your gut and whatever the hell you learned before. But there's two moments when everything slows down, and of course, they are tragic. Whenever you see one of your own being killed, right in front of your eyes, everything stops, everything dies down a little, and all you can hear is muffed, and all you can see is fogged.

The first person I ever saw, dying in front of me was my good friend Pete. The kids should never have been thrown in the field, but there was no choice. He died right in front of me. Four bullets that came from a Chinese boy of our own age. That was the first time I saw someone die, on my first day, but also it was the first time I've ever killed someone. I swear to God my soul died a little bit that day. Everything happened really fast, Pete was hit and fell, next thing I know I was shooting at the boy who killed him, and soon his lifeless body was hitting the ground as well. I've killed much more people after that, but that one first kill, never goes away. It never leaves you. His wide, lifeless eyes, will haunt me everywhere I go, whenever, it's going to be there, forever.

After it all, we were left with ashes and remains, almost seven years later and all we were left with was the rest of everything we knew. Africa was no longer a continent, but a bombed piece of land, covered in carcass to feed the crow. China stood as they could, trying to pick up the pieces, and the whole Europe was destroyed. South American drowned, and North America was nothing but ashes. There was when the government prepared itself for the big final. They made a deal of peace with China, the last one standing, and agreed on helping each other rebuilt, but they had other plans. The army gathered the rest of their bombs, a hidden stash they've been keeping since the day war started, and bombed the unarmed and innocent people of China, killing them all. In the end, the few of us left, were placed on a new land, in order to reconstruct what was left.

After that came starvation, illness, misery. That was when Visualize came into the picture. They were an organization that came from only God knows where, but they helped keep things in order. So in order, our lives began to be controlled by it, like we couldn't think or do anything for ourselves. By then I was already used to, and it wasn't like I could complain, since I was thrown in a nice apartment and forced to go to weekly therapy sessions. I was too busy trying to pick myself up from the ashes.

Brad and I kept in touch, as much as we could. He turned out better than me, but his battles scars weren't as deep as mine were. I saved his ass a bunch of times, and I'm not saying he is a wuss, but I had to keep things from him, things that could scar him forever. I kept them to myself, the worst of it all so he would have a chance, because that's what you do for a friend. Brad joined Visualize, to try to build a better future, he truly believes in what they do, but then again Brad was the religious one, not me. God bailed on me a long time ago, and I don't think he'll come back any time soon.

Visualize created a new kind of dictatorship, they were no better than the military, except they weren't killing anyone, yet. But I guess that when you've seen what I've seen, nothing much can shock you or bother you. They were very focused on building a new society, a new world, that was their goal. It didn't bother me at all, until I had to be thrown into their messed up world. They started to take charge of everyone's life, telling us it was a way to guarantee war would never happen again, and that we would be safe and sound. When you take a bunch of traumatized people and tell them exactly what they want to hear so desperately, they don't fight, they agree with you in hop you can make their lives better.

Everything was good for a few months, as we build ourselves from the ashes, we were doing moderately fine, but then Visualize took a step further. They wanted everyone to start new lives, lives they could control. It started with who should do what, they chose, based on a psychological evaluation, your profession. They told you who you would be in life, what you would do and where you would live. I've always been great with building stuff and technology that was kind of my thing, so they gave me this job as a civil engineering at this company that built houses for the whole city. I was fine with that, my life was as fine as you can get after everything that happened. I had a place to live, food, a job that could keep me occupied, and my good old therapist every Friday afternoon.

But Visualize had other plans, they wanted to start producing new people, basically they wanted the survivors to reproduce and start families soon so they could fill their new world, with new people. Brad came to me one day and told me he was going to get married. I should've been happy for him, if it wasn't for the fact he didn't know his bride. Visualize had a record of all the survivors, they used those records to analyze who was a better match for who, then they could marry those people. The idea wasn't well received at first, but rebelling against it didn't take us anywhere, I basically just didn't care at all. Little by little, people accepted the idea, because they couldn't fight it, and they were tired, so they gave in.

Starting at the ages of sixteen, we were good to go. Those who were already married before the law was concealed, could remain with their partners, but only if the marriage was legalized. Brad was paired up with this girl from California, a seventeen years old Carly Shay. Her family died in the war and she was left in a nunnery on the underground of Boston. Apparently she liked to read, knit and bake cookies. The girl didn't even put up a fight, they shipped her from the part of the land she was and they got married. Everything simple, and very raw. They settled the new couple in a just built townhouse, one of those I helped to build, and gave young Carly the job of a housewife. The girl was sweet, you could tell she was a good person considering what she went through, and Brad truly believed they could make it work so I never said a word.

I was pretty oblivious to their kind of life, the one they were trying to impose on everyone, until the shit hit my side. I never planned to get married, not that I don't like women, which I do, but you see after all I've been through, a family was the last thing I wanted. Too bad I couldn't get it my way. They told me I was a young healthy male, and I needed to reproduce, help build a better world. I've fought in many battles for many years, but this one was the only one I knew I couldn't win. I tried to claim I wasn't mentally healthy to have a family, but they didn't bite it. I had to get married.

Now I stand, side by side with the only friend I have left, Brad and his wife Carly, waiting for my bride to arrive. The judge is already there, waiting to marry me to a total stranger, and three guards on the door keeping an eye on me, just for good measure. I was told my bride to be is originally from Texas, where she and her sister remained hidden from the war for three years, until they bombed the place and the soldiers found them. After that they were shipped to this underground base where they kept the younger children, older women, and girls who couldn't serve as nurses. Now she was coming here, to marry me, a guy she never met. As sorry as I was for myself, I was for her.

"You'll see, she'll be lovely. Just like my Carly." Says Brad, kissing his wife's forehead.

For a moment, Carly smiles and I can truly believe she is somewhat happy.

"What did you say her name was again?" I ask him, because I truly don't know, but I should care. There's no way of out it.

"Samara… Samira…"

"Samantha." Carly finishes. Brad has memory problems, courtesy of the war. "Samantha Puckett, that's her name Freddie."

"Sure." I say, uninterested. "Samantha."

Just because this is something I can't stop, doesn't mean I have to like it, which I don't. But it also doesn't mean I have to make life worse for this girl, or myself. We're stuck with each other forever, and we don't even know each other. That's right, divorces are not allowed. I didn't have much time to read the marriage book of laws, but this much I know, we are chained to each other forever. The guards announce the bride is ready, and I take a sharp breath. This person will be my wife, my forever, the mother of my children, and I don't even know her middle name.

She walks in, gingerly, dressed in a simple white dress, ending above her knees. She's not holding any flowers, that's optional, instead she's clutching on her skirt tightly. Her shoes are new, white baby doll shoes and her hair was half up and half down. She was petit and curvy, a massive amount of blond curls cascading down her shoulder, and dark blue eyes. She was beautiful, but something about the look on her face told me she wasn't half as pleased to be here as I was. Too bad, because we're both on the same boat, whether we want it or not.

Brad squeezed my shoulder when she approached, finally face to face with me, but her eyes were locked on the floor tiles, like they were the only thing safe to look at. That made my stomach clutch in sadness. I wanted to put my finger under her chin and lift her face so she could look me in the eyes and see I wasn't going to hurt her. She didn't have to be afraid with me. I wanted to say hi, or just say anything, but the minister started, not giving me any room to speak to my bride. Funny, huh? Brad clutched on my shoulder, telling me to look forward, so I did.

"We're gathered here today…" The minister starts, branding me, chaining me to this girl I don't even know, forever.


A/N: So, this is my first fic. My friend S. Benson introduced me to this world and I loved it. So yeah, this is my first shot, and it might be a little weird, but I wanted to try something different. Don't be mean with the grammar erros, I really don't know what I'm doing. Thank you guys, if you like it, let me know.


REM - Hollow Man