Finding the Stars
Brutal Cycle
I have decided to stop my story of Hiding from the Hive. Instead I hope to do this. It will most likley be forgotton but whatever.
Sorry
Good men mean well, we just don't always end up doing well.
Isaac Clarke, Dead Space
Disclaimer: I do not own anything apart from my OC Dale
Dale was not much of a happy person. His mood usually made people frown. He hated the noise around him, hated the tall skyscrapers and hated people. He liked hacking. Hacking was said to be the people who stole money, made people have crap lives and generally annoyed the public. However there were two types of hackers. The first hacked for money and selfish reasons. The other type is hacking for the challenge. Dale was not the best but he was good. He loved the challenge, the danger and the...well the challenge. Dale was no hero. He was a coward. A coward who was picked on, a coward who had made friends across the internet. He was happy begrudgingly about his life.
Then something happened. A woman was assaulted, screaming rape. Dale should have ignored her like he normally would, he should have ran like the coward he was. He should have done that. But he didn't. He was a coward but he was a man. He attacked. His actions led to the woman escaping with her life, the man being caught and put in prison and he was labelled a hero by the media and should have lived his days happily. But life was not a storybook. All those things happened apart from one. A barrel of a gun changed that. The woman escaped with her life, the man was caught and put in prison but Dale was shot in the throat. He lived for five minutes as the blood pooled up and drowned Dale.
Dale's death was not graceful. He drowned in his own blood, coughing and gagging as people tried to help. His last words were not to a lover, a family member or a friend. Instead he was faced with the cold truth as a horrified man held him by his hands. The stranger watched Dale, a teenager gurgle and choke on his own blood. People gazed, horrified by the event, some recording the last moments of a teen. The man knew Dale would not make it. He comforted Dale in his last moments. The crowd watched as the teen stopped breathing, the gurgling sounds that showed he was alive moments before stopped, the arms fell limp, the legs stopped twitching, the eyes stopped. The murderer was caught months later at a drug bust. The town he lived in got a memorial that was soon forgotten. The days continued. A grieving mother found comfort in a new lover, the father never got over the death and threw himself into the military, killed two years after. The brother went into the navy and continued living. Humanity continued. The brutal way of life made many strong, but few were left un-scarred. Dale was one of many who were soon left behind in the brutal way of life. But for Dale death opened new eyes...literally.
When Dale awoke the first thing he did was gasp for air, his lungs burning. He coughed and rattled until it stopped. Dale finally opened his eyes. He groaned as he felt his body moan in protest of the movement. The next thing Dale did was stare. His eyes were looking through a clear black visor with a display showing his health a shield system. He looked at his body. The normally skinny, pale skin that was there had gone. His skin replaced for a black suit that covered his whole body, his fingers were missing digits, his legs bent at an unusual angle. For the next hour Dale hyperventilated. His body freezing and breathing heavily. Dale eventually tried to get up. His body falling multiple times. For an extremely long while Dale struggled, the body refusing to act like a human. Dale adapted to the new body after two hours of constant effort. Dale used the wall as support and looked around.
The floor was tiled, sharp white square's shining in contrast to his black suit, the floor stretched out, curving around a wall. The walls he was one shared the floors colours. The walls kept on going up and up until Dale could no longer see them. He stared up as a black void glanced back at him. Dale sighed with stress lacing his voice. With no other option available Dale walked along the path. His footsteps echoing. He eventually made it to the corner. He poked his head round. The hallway curved to show another, shorter hallway leading to an exit. Filled with creatures walking past. More specifically Turians. Asari and bloody Salarians. Dale felt like screaming. He turned and sat on the ground. He was in Mass Effect. AND HE WAS A BLOODY QUARIAN!