Deep Reality
Summary:It was a long time ago that everyone began to forget—the gangs, the dispossession, the riots. No one wanted to remember those times. Everything is different now; we're all isolated, surrounded by pervasive security and tangled in webs of disinformation. We fought in arenas for fun and were guarded by a militarized force. We weren't people anymore. But that's about to change; I hear a revolution is at hand.
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Author: Amaya
Editor: Aiko
Rating: Young Adult/Mature (see warnings below)
Characters/Pairing: [Pein/Nagato X Sakura H.]; Akatsuki; Team 7
Theme/Categories: Drama, Action, Romance, Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Mature language, violence, possible sexual content
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Prologue
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Things that use to be safe:
—Home
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Sometimes, when I was just sitting alone, I would wonder if there was something more to insanity. Perhaps there really wasn't a line between commonsensical and lunacy, or a difference between right and wrong; perhaps it was all just a figment of the imagination. Perhaps there were only different sides and different people—the haves and the have-nots—and perhaps neither humanity nor righteousness existed. What if the entirety of the world had no possession?
Sometimes, people think to be strong is to never feel pain, but in reality, the strongest people are the ones who can embrace it as it draws near—who can accept it, can understand it. Because Pain in itself, is a God. Pain cracks the whip that binds the world to subjugation, and all that has a heart will move at His will; because to live is to be a slave to Pain.
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From shadows, we'll descend upon the world—
take back what They stole.
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It was some time ago, since I last felt normal.
I was really young, I think, maybe just a child and hardly grown, but I still remembered. It happened almost eighteen years ago—this event we weren't allowed to speak of; it was the day over three-hundred protestors were arrested and charged for treason and conspiracy, while another hundred or so were beaten to death by the Dominion's trusty Sentinel. I was only seven so I didn't know better. And I was from the affluent side of town, so no one told me what was going on. I was naïve.
We called the protestors Deviants, because they went against Council's Laws by causing such a public disturbance; and their movement was called the Repentance. They were always talking about freedom and dictatorships, and sometimes revolution, but I never really knew what they said exactly, since my parents tried to shield me from "coal collar problems". The Deviants were on the news nearly every night since their first protest, having dozens of demonstrations each month—for the most part, I didn't care. In school, we talked about the Deviants and their new movement, and how they affected our society. We learned that the structure of our society was different long before we were born—it was faulty and capricious. A complete society of debauchery. Crime was so common that it was to be expected; technology was base, and the differences in wealth were extraordinary even by our standards. Of course, in the end there was an amazing revolt, which made cities separate—the Disconnection. Everyone told us how "bad" those days were, and that our ways were better; they said the Deviants wanted to destroy all we had created. The teachers fed us more information than we could handle but no one ever said anything about it because no one wanted to be made fun of. We never questioned the adults, actually. We were too scared to. But that was what they wanted, wasn't it—capitulation?
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From shadows, we'll reclaim our destiny.
We'll set our future free.
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It was on February 22, seventeen years and seven months ago that the Deviants' final protest went on; it lasted just a few hours, but left a lasting impression for many years forward. The Repentance Movement had spanned hundreds of cities and even few countries, and stretched for nearly five months by this time, often times driving people over-fanatical within the first few minutes. Everyone abhorred the Deviants; even the Sentinel upturned their noses when things went bad, so I told myself I hated them too. There was propaganda that promoted hate towards the Deviants, the minority, and random attacks on any supporters throughout the nights, and the Deviants fought back with their own artwork and their own retaliatory raids. But things were different on that day.
The teachers had us watch it on the news at school—third class, I think. The Deviants were protesting again in the centerplace of the Dominion, occupying the streets and such; the rest of the city was crowding them, screaming and throwing slang back and forth. People trickled from between Sentinel barriers, attacking the Deviants with their fists and whatever else they had, and police officers broke rank just to appease their own ignited hatred. It was hideous. And then suddenly, people began to shriek as windows began to shatter out of their panes. Flames reached out from Molotov Cocktails, licking at the feet of those who ran past. Anarchists and lowly thugs took to the streets before anyone could take notice, looting and moshing about the growing crowd, tipping over vehicles and setting destruction. All there was, was horror and fantastic cruelty—hardly people anymore. Everyone else in my class was scared or crying, but all I could do was watch in awe.
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And we'll rise.
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I came from the Dominion—a place once peaceful. We had an honest Council and slings of sentiment; we were a story of success to the other cities. We had no misery. We had no fear. We were safe. We were perfect.
"Don't they see what they have ruined," people often wondered after the rise of the Deviants. "People are happy—why can't they leave it at that?"
"We have a good thing. We have peace. They just want to take it all away."
"They'll destroy everything."
They told us that our way, the new way, was better. And for the longest time, I believed it.
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We will rise.
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