Author's Note:

Okay, I decided to add a short AN to make sure that three points are crystal clear (meaning that light is only slightly refracted :P).

-This chapter is supposed to be vague

-The rest of the story focuses on the school like the description says.

-You don't need any experience with the series to understand this fic. It may seem like you're missing out on something with the characters/world, but you really aren't. All of the mysteries and backstories of characters don't really have anything to do with the games.

Okay, that's all! :)

Four years ago:

Fuel sat in a dark, empty basement, covering his ears and trying not to listen to the sounds of destruction outside. Instead of thinking about what would happen to him, Fuel resolved to think about other things, harmless things.

He thought about his name. Fuel, like the kind that powered industrial machines on the planet Vulcan. It was a strange name, made even more strange by the fact that his father's name was "Lighter." People always laughed when they heard his name. They would scrunch their noses and say: "No way. That's your real name?" Still, Fuel didn't mind. A name was just a label. It didn't indicate anything about who he was on the inside.

Fuel tried not to hear the footsteps that approached his basement. He was going to be safe… right? His father said that he would be safe, and his father never lied.

Fuel cut off his train of thought as a starman teleported right in front of him. He couldn't help but gasp as he stood face to face with the alien. Starmen had sleek, grey skin that somehow looked both flexible and stiff. Its arms took on the shape of tentacles, undulating in the dim light. This meant that starmen couldn't grasp objects like a human, but they didn't need to. After all, they could use psionics to mess with the world in horrifying ways.

Oh no… Fuel thought, freezing in panic. What's going to happen to me?

Would Fuel… die? Before, he had shrugged death off as a phenomenon that only happened to old people that had already done everything that they wanted, but the full implications of death now hit him square in the chest. If he died, he would never have the chance to follow his dreams… That, Fuel felt, would hurt more than the physical pain of losing his life.

The starman scanned the room, either not noticing or not caring about Fuel. Fuel shivered as he noticed that the starman didn't have eyes. It made sense, though; starmen perceived the world through their psionic powers.

"Nothing important here," the starman spoke in a metallic voice. "Yes, I shall pull out immediately."

The starman moved its tentacles and uttered a strange sound, disappearing from sight.

Who was he talking to? Fuel wondered. Nobody else was in the room…

He thought about the starman's words. By the sound of it, the alien had teleported out of Tazmily, the town where Fuel resided… which implied that the raid was over. Fuel walked up the stairs, every instinct in his body telling him to turn back and hide. Fuel shook his head, trying to dispel his concerns. He had to be strong, now! Fuel latched onto the doorknob that lead to the world outside, grasping it so tightly that his knuckle turned white.

Just what will I find? he wondered.

Well, there was no point in waiting. Without thinking, Fuel turned the doorknob and thrust the door open.

The scene before him was prettier than he had expected.

Most of the houses stood upright; only a few lay toppled over from the starmen's wrath. In the distance, Fuel could hear sounds of birds chirping. That generally meant that the area was safe. The birds were the first to leave when danger approached.

I have to find my father, Fuel thought. He might be injured.

He remembered how his father had volunteered to fight off the starmen. It made sense logically; Lighter was the strongest person in Tazmily, possibly the strongest on Aphrodite. Still, Fuel couldn't help but worry. After all, what could physical strength alone do when faced with the nightmarish psionic powers that the starmen used?

Fuel started off into the distance, anticipatory adrenaline keeping him alert. Before long, he saw a familiar face.

"Lucas!" Fuel shouted, scrambling up to his friend. "Are you all right? Where's Claus?"

Lucas halted and turned to face Fuel, his azure eyes shining with horror. As always, his blond hair stood straight up in the front.

Lucas was a couple years younger than Fuel, having turned 11 only a month ago. This caused Fuel to treat Lucas like a younger brother sometimes… although his twin brother Claus often acted like an older sibling as well. Lucas usually looked nervous and acted timid, but Fuel had rarely seen him in such a horrified state.

"Lucas!" Fuel repeated.

"Red," Lucas whispered, almost too softly to hear.

"What?" Fuel asked. "What about red?"

"Evil. Red kills."

Fuel blinked.

"Are you okay, Lucas?"

"So much red… a sea of crimson, wailing in pain."

"Lucas! What's going on?"

The blond boy sighed sadly.

"Claus… why did you side with the red?" he asked regretfully.

I won't get any answers out of him like this, Fuel thought. I should find Claus… or maybe I should locate their parents. Flint and Hinawa can handle this far better than I.

"I'll be right back, Lucas," Fuel assured.

"Goodbye," Lucas whispered, staring longingly out into the distance. "And try not to let the red control you."

I need to get help for him, and quickly! Fuel thought frantically. Lucas didn't seem to be in a right state of mind.

Fuel ran up to Lucas' house, feeling more nervous than he probably should. He had been friends with Claus and Lucas his whole life. Nothing would go wrong… right? Fuel shook his head. Worry would get him nowhere.

Fuel arrived at the front door of Lucas' house. He knocked once, twice, three times.

No response.

"Hello?" Fuel asked.

After a few seconds of silence, Fuel twisted the doorknob and slowly opened the door. Inside, he saw something that he would never forget.

"Claus!" Fuel shouted, running up to Lucas' twin.

Claus offered a wry smile. He looked almost exactly like Lucas, except for the fact that his hair was red rather than blond.

"Claus!" Fuel repeated. "What happened to your… your…" a lump in Fuel's throat prevented him from finishing the question.

"This?" Claus asked, his voice hard as stone. "It's nothing."

Fuel's jaw dropped.

"You have to be kidding! It's most certainly something!"

Claus shrugged.

"At least I'll be able to walk away from this."

A chill ran down Fuel's spine. What did Claus mean? He couldn't be implying that…

"Still don't see it?" Claus asked, his eyes narrowing. "Look that way."

Claus thrust his thumb to the left. Fuel followed his finger to see something… red.

He gasped in horror, realizing just what had happened. So much red… in that moment, Fuel couldn't comprehend anything but the massive red splotches that covered the ground in front of him. He took a step back, not wanting to believe what he was seeing.

Oh no…