Hale Protocol

by CrossingInfinity

A PREQUEL TO LOTF: APOCALIPTICA. PLEASE READ THAT FIRST. Roger always thought he'd never matter. That he'd never make a difference to anyone. Too bad he was wrong. Why is it that, just as we find purpose, it's ripped away? Why did it have to go like this? As he tries to make sense of his life, he may lose the very things that made it up in the first place. Rtd T for later grimness

1. Chapter 1

.

Surprise. Finally, the prequel to LOTF ap….WTF KAT. YOU TOOK SO LONG

Anyway, here it is~ SPECIAL THANXIES TO ITALKTODEADPIGS. YOU MOTIVATED ME TO POST THIS.

I'm going to go ahead and answer your questions right away:

Reader: OMJEH…THIS IS NOTHING LIKE LORD OF THE FLIES AT ALL…

Kat: It's a prequel…read Lotf Apocaliptica to understand it. Please. Readit.

Reader2: WTF. SO OOC.

Kat: Again, read apocaliptica. FORGOODNESSLAKES..READ. I can't really explain it anymore than that. ;-;

Reader3: Roger is totes a sadist. That's what maeks him hotototototot.(TOBUSCUS REFERENCE LOL)

Kat: ….this is his previous life. JUST READ THE NOT-PREQUEL…I'M GONNA GO CRY NOW…

Reader4: DON'T CRY! WE THERORHETICALLY LUV YOU!

Kat: I LUV YOU 2! WAAAAAAAAA!

Ok, now that that's cleared up, you can read nao. Sorry for the ramble…and also, for making the readers sound like stuck-up preps…THAT"S JUST WHAT I THINK OF PEOPLE WHO COMPLAIN FOR NO LEGITIMATE REASON OTHER THAT TO PISS ME OFF, OK?! *sobs*

Again, Thx to Italktodeadpigs. I hope this explains things that went on and happened and did stuff in the first fic…lol.

….

HALE PROTOCOL: A PREQUEL TO LOFT APOCOLIPTICA

CHAPTER ONE: JELOUSY

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 31, 1929. LONDON, ENGLAND

Another day that I have failed. My presentation with the wonderful scientists at gladiator has gone exactly as I thought it would, and ended with rejection yet again. I'm starting to believe them, you know. I'm starting to believe that I'm worthless scum, that none of my ideas are worth anyone's time. After all, that's what the streets have to offer anyway. I've never been to school, at least, not recently. They have no reason to believe my ideas are worth anything, especially when they're so far-fetched.

I guess I'll try again tomorrow.

-Roger-

The dark haired boy breathed a long, heavy sigh and shut his notebook with both hands, leaning back against the brick wall of the alley with all his weight. It's the only thing he trusted to hold him at times like these, when everything seemed for nothing; when his daily existence and purpose came into question. Rain spattered the pavement by his feet, and Roger drew them to his chest instinctively. Might as well avoid sickness if he could; it's one of the few things he could control, theoretically. Outside the alley hurried business men, primped up in their stiff suits, trying to get home before the rain got too bad. When they opened the door, they would be welcomed by the arms of their children and wives, and then they would sit down at a big square table set with warm food. Maybe a word of prayer would be said, wishing prosperity onto their family and good luck for the coming days. They would eat their fill, and when the time came, they were ensured a warm bed to spend the night in. There roof was sturdy, they wouldn't have to spend any of the darker hours under an umbrella ridden with holes. Their carpet wasn't slabs of cement. They didn't worry about meals, or being shot at.

"I hate my life. I wish it would change." Roger muttered, wrapping his worn leather coat tighter around his shoulders. Slowly, he drifted into a fitful slumber.

…..

Thanks you for reading! Bye!

B4 you go, please also review!