Chikka-chikka-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch!
WAKE YOUR LAZY ASSES UP RIGHT NOW!
She swore it was all a dream. Every word sounded fuzzy, every flash of light and boom of sound was on a different mental plane.
But then it was physical. A hand, rough and caked with dust, covered in calluses on each finger, struck her cheek.
From that moment forward she was a cursed idiot, always searching for her next breath. Awake and aware of her hell.
"Wake up! Want me to smack everyone of you?" Her assailant was a man. 6'2, buzz cut, scar on his face, scratchy voice, dressed head to toe in either camo or khaki. He was the spitting image of a stereotype army officer.
The girl was awake. Her cheek stung red, and her eyes watered, but she didn't say a thing. She was more concerned with what surrounded her. To her left there were kids strapped into chairs like some sort of straight jacket seat belt, to her right that same thing. And sitting across from her, past the man who had just smacked her, were more teens strapped into seats. As much as 15 of them in total, maybe a bit less.
Other than the confused groans of the hostages, and the shouting of the man, the only thing the girl could hear was the whirring of propellors. The metal floors and giant doors revealed the obvious. They were in a helicopter.
"Who am I?" she heard the boy next to her whisper.
She didn't respond. Who am I?
"What the hell is going on!?" A girl with long brown hair demanded. "Why don't I remember anything!?" That girl struggled against her restraints. A lot of the teens did too.
She didn't struggle.
She looked around. Something was strapped to her back, a pack or a cushion or something. It forced her to sit further forward. On her legs was a pair of black pants. She didn't remember ever putting those on. Who dressed her? She was wearing some sort of jacket. It was hard to read upside down, but she could tell there was something written on her arm, sewn into the sleeve.
Elite Subject Echo
Echo.
The man turned to the yelling girl, shooting a glare that would in still the fear of God in grown men. She didn't flinch. "I'm aboUT TO TELL YOU THAT!" He raised his voice mid sentence.
The brown haired girl huffed.
He turned to the rest, surveying the group. "I am Major Greene! I am in charge of you all for the next 149 seconds. Understand? Now shut your mouths and listen." Major Greene turned to the front wall, the one separating the teens from the pilot. He fumbled with some sort of remote and in a few seconds, and image blinked onto the wall.
A woman. Blond hair, wrinkled skin and soft eyes, dressed entirely in white.
"Hello. I'm Ava Paige. I know you each must be very scared right now, and very confused. Please listen to me for just a couple of minutes. Major Greene and I work for an organisation called WICKED. We are searching to find a cure for the Flare. You all should remember the Flare."
Heat. Drought. Floods. Dying people. So much dying. Zombies. Infected people. WICKED. Cranks. Cannibals. Death. Cure. Heat. It was so hot then. Cranks. They were gone. Family gone. WICKED for a cure. People gone. Loved ones dying. WICKED is good.
Every memory hit her like a truck. She knew everything about the Flare. Yet, each person in her mind didn't have a face or a name. Nothing personal, just facts.
"WICKED is searching for a cure, but people are getting in our way. A Crank out there calls himself the Cranks King. He has an army of the diseased coming to end our search for the cure. We need your help. Each of you has been equipped with what we call the Elite Chip. This gives you all a unique ability to fight and survive. An ability that we believe will serve a great purpose for a mission. You all have practiced with you abilites and perfected them. You just don't remember that. But you muscles will. Don't worry." She looked at them with a tight, close mouthed smile. As if that was supposed to calm them.
"Once you land, read the folder given to you. It will tell you all you need to know about yourself." Ava Paige paused. Her eyes glowed. "Assassinate this man for us. Do this for WICKED and we will give you back your memories. We are watching you always, we will know. Kill the Crank King. Kill his people and any others who threaten the cure. Be proud that you are serving your country and this Earth. And remember, WICKED is good."
She smiled and disappeared. Leaving the group of teens to blankly stare at a helicopter wall.
"You all understand?" Major Greene demanded.
"Not even a little!" The same brown haired girl yelled, "You want a bunch of teenagers to kill your enemies? You stole our memories and expected us to fight your battles? Give me back my memories! I won't move from this seat unless-"
"Sorry hun," the Major said with a sadistic smile. His hand gripped a small red lever. "149 seconds is up."
The girl raised her brow, "Wait, wha-aaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"
Suddenly, they were falling.
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My character is the one being followed in this little prologue, just so you know. Here is the list of accept characters by nickname!
Females:
Razor
Mirage
Bear
Jinx
Lightning
Echo
Males:
Ash (Nickname will change)
Marshal
Steelshot
Q (Nickname will change)
Azreal
Overseer
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Guys, I am so sorry if your character wasn't chosen. I got around 30 submissions. I originally planned on only taking 10, but wow were all of your characters amazing. I think I read each submission all the way through at least 3 times no joke. No list is permanent though, if your character is not accepted now they might just maybe wil appear later. If yours was accepted, congrats! I'm looking forward to an amazing story with all of you, full of a lot of surprises!