I sat there, counting as countless seconds pass by. Soon, we would arrive at the academy and my life within the borders of Opportunity would change to life within walls of the unknown. At this point I would be miles upon miles away from home.
Crimson Academy, a school dedicated to preparing young people to fight in the war against Hyperion. Before it became a training facility, Crimson Academy used to be a Hyperion moon base piloted by some jerk that went by the name Handsome Jack until the Crimson Raiders took him down along with some alien monster thing called The Warrior. That was centuries ago. Now instead of producing faulty war bots, this moon base now produces children of war. Seeing how we are the first batch of expendable pawns, I don't see how we are any different from those faulty war bots.
According to the Crimson Academy handbook, twenty-seven kids around my age are carefully selected based on skill and potential and some other shit. I find that hard to believe. These skag bags up in Crimson Academy have never seen me, or any of us for that matter, in battle before so that whole shit about us being selected for our skill is total bullshit.
Upon being selected to attend the academy, you receive a welcome package. In this package you can find an echo recording which contains a welcome message, a card charged with five-hundred dollars, and an Echo I.D. Card. Upon turning on the card, you can find information about your specialization, estimated stats, and other info regarding yourself such as your name, height, and so on. How these guys got information such as my biggest fear is beyond me. In fact, it's freakin' creepy.
Musky old dudes stalking you aside, life in the academy would officially mark the beginning of life on my own. Before I was selected for the academy, I was living with my parents and my younger sister, Yoko. Yoko and I weren't sister and brother by blood. In fact, I was adopted. My father died when I was at a young age. Ever since then, my mother became a wreck. We weren't strong financially yet my mother would blow all of her earnings from work on alcohol and gambling. Every day, she would always come home late at night so she would have a babysitter take care of me while she was hitting it off with guys old and young. Waking up to the morning light, I had discovered that my mother had left me. I wandered around my old house for a while and came across a note that said:
"I'm sure you would hate me for doing this. Just know that I love you so much but I don't deserve to call myself your mother anymore. Good-bye… I'm not coming home tonight."
I was shocked. Confused. Nothing could describe the mixed feelings that were churning up within my heart and mind. I wanted to cry. I wanted to get angry. I wanted my family back. It wasn't long before Yoko's parents took me in.
Before I was in the arms of my new family, I wandered the dangerous streets of Opportunity like a lost soul searching for a resolve. The city that was made for pseudo-prosperity under the vision of a psychopath never headed into a bright future. The city was overpopulated by smoke and blood. Every day, corpses of the recently deceased could be found in alleys and even in plain view out on the street. Every day, I risk having my life cut short by the bullet of a Bandit manufactured handgun instead of dying of hunger and my body joining the many that already occupy the alleyways. Fortunately, my struggle for survival came to a close thanks to Yoko and her family. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be sitting here in this shuttle on its way to Crimson Academy. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have the guts to ever be holding a sub-machinegun.
As the shuttle landed in front of the Crimson Academy, the twenty-seven of us got up and gathered in front of a large door. Twenty-seven strangers, one door. The shuttle took off. Well damn. No turning back now. Heh. Soldiers to be or soldiers to die. I looked at my I.D. card. As I powered it on, a blue flash strikes and a steady blue glow fades in. My name, "Enji Frazier", was written in red bold letters on the top of the card. I did not need a Rabid Stalker to strike me in the gut to help me realize that all of this is real.