Chapter 1

State of Affairs

A/N: Guess what this means?

Trina: You got your new laptop, right?

A/N: Yup, a long time ago! And now I'll replace the old Chapter 1 rant as well as the chapter itself! Hooray!

Trina: It certainly odd seeing a full screen after all these months…

A/N: Aye, that it is…. I'm scared…..

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Chapter 1

State of Affairs

Forsaken. It is the only word that can describe the fate of this planet, this hell known as Filgaia. To most people, endless desert and badlands are the entirety of the world. But to the lucky few who reach the edge of land, their world opens to include wide, rolling seas.of sand. Occasionally, dotted around the barren landscape, there are some bushes, and a few trees, but they are nothing more than stubble on the face of this planet, the rest removed long ago. Out of the wastes, creatures have started to turn fierce, becoming the monsters from fairy tales and mythology.

Still, humanity presses onward. Countless villages dot the fields and deserts. Farmers struggle to draw nutrients from the dry, scorched earth. Remarkably, meager vegetables and fruits sprout from the cracked soil. Children roam within the borders of their villages, laughing as kids do, I guess. Young men work the fields or the mines, young women run the local inn, or take care of the children. The old complain with each other, always certain that Ol' Jaspar is cheating at poker, even if they're playing rummy.

Some people can't take this life. Such people are divided among three groups. First, there's the Outlaws. These guys are the scum of Filgaia. They're murderers, thieves, terrorists, muggers, rapists, and many other wonderful professions. They've given up on humanity, and just want to live for two things: themselves, and the moment. The next group is the Arkists. These guys are a little harder to explain. Arkists are members of the Ark of Justice. It acts as a world church and as a world police power. Most of them are zealous bastards, and believe only in the shit that spews forth from their mouths. But, they usually do a good job of keeping order. However, there are many cases where the Arkists can't handle the Outlaws. That's where the Migrant Hawks come in. I guess you could call them bounty hunters. The only thing is that Migrant Hawks never settle down. They don't have fixed employers like bounty hunters do. 'A Hawk is His Own Boss' is the general credo.

If I had to pick the most well known names of any group or organization, I'd have to say the Council of Seven, Maxwell Rose, and Jet Enduro. The Council of Seven leads the Ark of Justice. No one really knows who they are, or if they're even real. Hell, the only record of their existence is all the edicts and laws they pass. No one even knows how to get into the damn thing. It's all too secretive for my tastes. Next up is Maxwell Rose. By far, Rose is the most nefarious, notorious, and ruthless Outlaw in recent history. Even still, Rose is as damn secretive as the Council of Seven. Is it a man? Is it a woman? Who knows? All that's known is that wherever Rose travels, destruction follows. It's like a humanoid typhoon, only no one's ever seen it.

And then there is Jet Enduro. Of all of the Migrant Hawks, he is the only one that the whole of Filgaia knows by name. There isn't a man, woman, or child alive who hasn't heard of Jet's exploits. He has the most confirmed captures of any hawk, as well as the most confirmed kills. Grey Dog McMillan, Vilansky the Horn, Green-eye Gerogero; all of them have fallen, thanks to him.

There have been many tales and legends told of his efforts, although many are over-embellished, and some aren't even true. But there is one story that I know of, one that is just as unbelievable as some of the myths, yet actually happened.

My name is Jet Enduro, and this is my story.

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A/N: Well, I didn't change much, but I do like it better this way.