Okay, I had some technical difficulties with this story. Originally, it was a songfic, using Radioactive by Imagine Dragons., but I was unaware that it is against site rules to post the lyrics to an entire song on here. I have replaced the lyrics with parenthases markers, so a bit of imagination is needed to visualize the full thing(check my profile).
(*)
War was everywhere. Sometimes, it just overwhelmed everything. You couldn't form any coherent thoughts, couldn't say anything. The world around you blurred and you could only hear a vague hum of reality.
Forced to fight for every hour, every minute, every second of your life. Never a moments rest, only more fighting.
Eventually, you, too, are consumed. Becoming an orphan of war, a husk of the former self that battle so brazenly snatched away.
(*)
Every day it was the same. You awoke covered in filth and debris from the prior battles, unable to wipe it away because of the sweat that glued it to everything. Most of the warriors markings had long since vanished beneath months of grime.
Not that it mattered. Markings distinguished them from one another, but they were all on the same side. The warlords were not even of their planet, so markings did not matter one way or another.
They couldn't keep them from coughing and choking on the ever-present smog that filled every crevice. We breathed in the fumes and sputtered them back out, still fighting on.
(*)
The first weeks were always the hardest. You had to be broken in to the ways of the militia, shaped into a puppet of war. It seemed like another form of prison, until you remembered the big picture.
This was war. The apocalypse had fallen the moment that monstrous rock landed on our planet.
We just realized it too late.
(*)
When it finally hit, it was like you saw clearly for the first time in years. Their tyranny finally hit you and, somehow, you just knew.
Nothing would end well.
It built up inside until one felt as though they would burst. Something was coming, Something big.
(*)
This was a new era. An era of pain and strife. An era of suffering and martyrdom. An era that could end it all.
But we fought. We fought to protect our families. We fought to protect our homes. We fought to protect the ones we loved most.
We fought to protect our freedom.
(*)
All of the held back rage. It was only a matter of time before someone snapped, then all hell broke loose. Everyone had that bomb of anger festering within them.
Who's fuse would ignite first?
(*)
The flags of war were raised, the beat of the drums trembling through the ground and through our hearts.
The revolution had begun. Red paint embellished the markings on our faces, an open display of our rebellion. We fit in, for the clothing of our captors was red as well.
Anticipation for the coming battles roiled within us all.
(*)
Battle cries rang out across the plains as we surged forward. Odds seemed in our favor, for we vastly outnumbered them.
But tables quickly turned.
Shots of flame rained down upon us. Bursts fired from their hands, which burned us like the surface of the sun. Odds had slipped away from us.
(*)
As time pressed on, our numbers shrank. The red daemons held so much power! But we refused to lose hope.
We thought of our homes, our families, our beloved. Anything to keep us going.
Anything to keep our home.
(*)
This grueling age of war took its toll on our people. Many had been hardened beyond repair. What was once the most friendly person you knew was now a war-changed veteran.
Physical scars were just as frequent as the emotional ones. The Red Daemons would take us prisoner and torture us. Many had missing appendages, or had their markings cut away solely for humiliation. Each and every one of us earned our marking, and to have them taken away was the ultimate shame.
But we still fought.
(*)
Something had changed. The Red Daemons seemed to be getting weaker. Was this the end we have been longing for? Would the war finally be over?
Once again, the bombs of emotion bubbled up. But they were not bombs of anger.
But of hope.
(*)
We pushed them with everything we has, as hard as we could. We struck them with more force than we had in years.
They fought, too, but it was not the same for them.
They were losing.
(*)
They were retreating! We had finally grasped an edge, and we gripped it with our renewed vigor for all we were worth.
After so long, we could finally reclaim what was ours.
We were so close.
(*)
The age of war had finally ended. This new age of peace was embraced with joyous arms and celebration spread like fire across the ravaged lands.
We could finally go home, to the ones we loved most.
But celebration was not for all. I was too late.
(*)
"I came back for you!"
Grief clutched my soul like a vice. I cried out to the gods, vowing my revenge.
Red light washed over me.
"Razer, of the Forgotten Zone…"