MY GOD I'VE PUT OUT A LOT OF STORIES TODAY!
So I've done this too much today but HERE'S ANOTHER STORY! Yay...

Rated Mature At least I'm pretty sure that's what I rated it...

Disclaimer You know with how many times I've told you people I don't own things... it's starting to sting...

Chapter 1: WICKED is Good

-Aaron-

I don't know what I was dreaming about… I could never remember a dream after waking up but I do remember if it was good. And that dream had been heaven so naturally when I awoke I did it very unwillingly. The alarm that had woke me up sounded like a parent begging me to get up. It was designed for the kids that WICKED had torn from their homes as a reminder of their old lives… a sort of comforting way to wake up but for me it was just annoying.

I'd never known my parents. I never even knew why they ditched me at the orphanage or if they ditched me at all. They could be alive and well or dead or even a crank for all I know… but this alarm clock… it made me hate them more. Growing up in the orphanage was about as fun as getting your finger nails torn off so naturally I'd tried to abandon ship more than a handful of times. I don't know why they wanted to keep me there so bad. It's not like I was some great thing they were hording or at least not that they knew.

I can't tell you how happy I was when the WICKED representative came to take me away but I can try. Imagine being locked in a cold, dark, damp cellar with nothing to eat but the rats that scampered across your feet and the only water was dripping from the moldy roof. Then imagine someone finally opening that cellar and taking you into their warm, safe arms and hugging you, whispering that everything would be fine. I'm not saying that WICKED hugged me and made me feel safe but they did make me feel important, which is a hell of a lot better than being constantly reminded that not even your parents wanted you.

"Come on, Aaron, rise and shine." The clock cooed from beside my table in a loving man's voice. "Pumpkin, it's time to wake up. You don't want to be late today."

As annoying as this alarm was I couldn't help but smile at it sometimes. 'This is what it would have been like to have a dad.' The thought sent pleasant shivers down my spine as I began my morning stretch. It started as a small stretch where my arms went above my head and my back arched slightly but quickly it escalated to what I assumed looked a lot like an exorcism.

"Aaron, if you don't wake up this instant you are not getting breakfast." The father voice grunted in an authoritative manner.

I groaned in annoyance before muttering, "Alright, I'm getting up. Quit your bitching." Swinging my legs over my bed and unleashing a violent yawn, I place my feet on the mat that turned off my alarm.

"I love you, Darling." The father told me.

My fists balled up as I felt the cold dead feeling that sentence gave me. "Shut the fuck up." I growled. "Fucking liar."

Originally, I was planning to ask someone to change the alarm for me but after a night here with all the balling kids crying for their parents I felt that I needed the reminder that I hated mine. It was easy to get sucked up into their perfect lives before WICKED and even a couple times their stories made me despise my rescuers. However, waking up in this manner made me somewhat of an anti-morning person, even more than usual, so I had considered changing it to Chancellor Ava Paige reminding me that "WICKED is good." I never got around to asking her to record the message for me and since most of the cry babies are in the Maze now I had no need for the reminder.

Standing to my feet I popped my stiff joints with a satisfied moan and walked to my wall screen. Pulling up my music list, and playing my favorite morning song; Phoenix by Fall Out Boy. I was something of an old school girl believing wholeheartedly that I was born in the wrong era. Twirling and lipping the words as I danced around my room I pulled out my usual attire and workout clothes. Dressing while dancing could prove a difficulty to those who are not as talented as I but with practice I have no doubt that this could become a sport. I'm not kidding I damn near do a reverse strip dance.

Yanking off my oversized, cut up, and worn out orphanage t-shirt that I'd slept in I tossed it expertly into the cloths bin. Don't get me wrong. I hated that orphanage with a fiery hatred that could force Satan to his knees but they had the most comfortable shirts ever. So to clarify, I hate the orphanage but love the shirt. I slid down the spandex I'd also slept in and was now completely butt naked dancing around like an idiot so of course it was now that someone chose to waltz in.

"Why are you never wearing cloths when I decide to come see you?" Teresa, my only female company in WICKED, chuckled while casually strolling to my wall screen and changing the song. Smiling to herself she cooed. "I love this song."

Why Worry by Set It Off blasted in my sound proof room and she joined me dancing, though she was far more talented than my mindless jumping around. Laughing, I pulled on some underwear and a lacy black bra. Being naked in front of Teresa had become a normal occurrence that neither of us felt awkward about it anymore and realizing this fact made us even more comfortable around each other. For some reason, with however many times she's witnessed me nude, she refuses to be naked around me. Not that I'm complaining. I just find it interesting.

Plopping onto my bed Terry, my nickname for her, held up a comic book I'd been reading. "How is this guy even a hero?" She scoffed showing me the 'superhero' on the cover.

I let out a chuckle. "Deadpool's an anti-hero."

"So he's a villain?"

I shook my head causing her to furrow her brows even more. "He's a misunderstood individual." I joked as I finally got around to pulling on my fitted, torn, black skinny jeans. "Don't you usually have a reason to come visit me in the morning?"

"Oh yah!" She barked tossing my comic lazily onto my unmade bed. "One of the Grievers is down again."

I rolled my eyes at the horrid name she'd adopted from the Gladers for my creation. I'd originally just called them Garons since my good friend and partner in crime, Gally, had helped me create them but even WICKED had began to refer to them as Grievers. Giving in to pure presser I'd stopped correcting people and instead gave them each names instead of creation numbers making one of their names Garon and another Aarlly.

"Let me guess." I sighed tugging on a slightly too big, white, quarter sleeved v-neck shirt and lazily tucked the front into my jeans. "It's Blueberry again, right?"

"Mmhm." She hummed tossing me my favorite black leather vest that had a dark purple hand flipping the bird on the back. "He's jammed up again so they want you to go into the maze and make him mobile enough to bring in."

"Jesus, I don't know what's wrong with the poor guy." I groaned walking into my bathroom and spraying body spray into the air above me. Even thought WICKED modified us all to no longer stink I enjoyed smelling like vanilla.

I could almost hear Terry roll her eyes at me. "The love you hold for those hideous things is almost disgusting."

"I made them." I explained with a slight laugh. "They're my babies." Easily sliding a brush through my sandy blond hair I let out a small annoyed groan. "I think I'll need a hair cut soon." It reached slightly past my breasts.

"I'm surprised they haven't forced you to get one already." Terry sighed slightly jealous of my long wavy hair. "Mine's barely past my shoulder and they're already pestering me about it."

"One perk of being the monster mechanic is that no one gives two shits about you as long as you do your job." I joked. "And I don't respond to authority as well as you do so they don't shove the rules on me as hard."

"Maybe I should just start acting like you." Terry sighed being a lot more serious than usual.

Tying my hair up into a very sloppy pony tail I walked back into my room with an eyebrow raised. "Careful there, Terry, that almost sounded like a compliment."

"It kind of is." She shrugged while standing to change the song again. "I mean who wouldn't want to be like you. You're kind of a badass."

"Holy shit," I gasped feigning my surprise by putting my hand over my heart and falling onto my bed. "Teresa Agnes actually complimented me!"

"Oh har har," She glared playfully before taking a seat at my desk. "But I'm serious, Aar, I wish I could be more like you."

"More like me?" I scoffed sitting back up and sliding on some socks. "You want to be a 'rebellious little shit'?" Quoting what a security guard had called me just the day before. "I wish I was more like you, Terry. Everybody loves you."

"Because I'm their submissive little pet!" She spat anger causing her words to sound more malicious than she had originally meant them to be. "At least you're brave enough to speak your mind, do whatever the hell you want, and fight back if someone even hints at forcing you to do anything."

I let out an airy laugh. "I guess the grass isn't really greener on the other side."

She cracked a smile and nodded, watching me slip on my worn out dark brown combat boots but not bothering to tie them. Looking down at her own attire, a simple pair of well fitted blue jeans and a skin tight baby green v-neck shirt, she frowned. "You even dress more interesting than I do."

"Want to borrow some of my clothes?" I asked feeling slightly excited at the idea of playing dress up with Teresa. She was a beautiful girl with dark hair and burning blue eyes that could bring even the toughest of men to their knees if she so much as glared at them. I don't think she truly understood how badass she looked even in her preppy clothes.

"Maybe tomorrow." She grinned obviously just as excited as I was. "We're already late for breakfast."

I nodded my head in agreement before shoving my workout clothes into my gym bag and tucking my fingerless brown leather work gloves into my back pocket. "Can't be late for breaky." I smirked.

"Most important meal of the day." She giggled as we left my room and made our way to the kitchen.