Chapter 0: 21st July 2016 -09:00-

Peering out from behind a floppy lock of brown hair, Jacob Silver (Boy #4, Class 3A, St. Joseph's Catholic Highschool) surveyed the sparsely populated classroom. Mounted on the wall, a mass-produced plastic clock ticked away the seconds with regular clicks. The sound clacked through Jacob's ears, punctuating his weary thoughts. He regarded the half-empty room with vague interest, wondering when his turn would come.

Etched onto the whiteboard at the front of the room in sharp blue lettering was the phrase "Mandatory Vaccination: 08:30 - 12:00".

It was one of the few things that Jacob actually liked about the government. State-funded healthcare was a luxury used to pacify the population. Often quoted in dubious "impartial" studies, and on morning talk shows and newscasts, the free medical treatment was regularly used as evidence that the system worked.

Students were regularly vaccinated against various different viruses and diseases, during their tenure at school, ensuring that they built up healthy immune systems to minimise sick leave once they were injected into the national workforce.

Moss green eyes, flecked with muddy brown, watched the second hand move around the face of the clock. Long having abandoned the pages of Metamorphosis, that still lay open upon his desk, Jacob's pupils moved listlessly.

Beneath the clock, a small group of girls chattered amongst themselves. Fragments of their conversation reached Jacob's ears, yet he paid little mind to them.

That was what he did best. Pay little mind to those around him.

A social chameleon, he held the unique ability to fade into the background of almost any group of people, regardless of size. That was the way he liked it. He preferred to observe people from the outside; to distance himself from the status quo.

Everything he did helped Jacob stave off interaction. Typically adopting a slouched posture, he had a habit of hiding his eyes behind his fringe. That, combined with how engrossed he attempted to seem in whatever he was doing, ensured that the only people that would make the effort to talk to him were those that shared his interests. Namely his penchant for literature.

Jacob liked classic novels.

It was how he first began talking to Owen.

Owen Taylor (Boy #8) first approached Jacob during their freshman year of Highschool. Unassuming and average, he nevertheless had a talent for conversation; something which Jacob was severely lacking. At least in terms of initiating one. He had traversed the room and sparked up a discussion on Jane Austen.

Jacob had been halfway through reading Sense and Sensibility.

Currently sat at his own desk across the room, Jacob could see the other boy's perfect posture. The same height as Jacob, at five feet and ten inches, the other boy managed to appear much taller as a result of the way he held himself. Neatly combed brown hair was pushed out of his face, leaving his smooth forehead and dull brown eyes bare to the elements.

Every time another student passed his desk, Owen would reassure them that their trip to the nurse's office would be alright. That it was just a shot.

Following the latest departure, from behind his fringe, Jacob watched them pass the desk of Boy #3, Johnathan Schultz.

Sat next to the door, the wannabe Greaser was busy combing his thick ginger hair into a pristine pompadour. Lathered with gel, the style hung slightly over his forehead, pointing down at his dark eyes.

Draped over the back of Johnny's chair was a thin leather jacket. He never wore the school-assigned black blazer, and the sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows. The red and black tie draped around his neck was loose; the knot falling halfway down his chest.

Jacob still couldn't understand how the faculty allowed the boy to adopt the style that his did. Dissent and rebellion were drilled out of them so much in their formative years that it was rare to see anyone break from pattern in the way that Johnny did. At the very least not so openly.

The only person he could think of that was even close to rebelling, at least in terms of appearance, was Sarah Matthews (Girl #18) from class 3C, who dyed the tips of her blonde hair pink. But the only reason that she got away with it was because a lot of the staff were afraid of her. At just under six foot one (and this was beside the point, but the few times Jacob caught a glimpse of her in gym class, her body looked like that of a lightweight boxer), her body was covered in scars from what he could only assume were fights.

Sarah aside, he figured that Johnny was only allowed to dress the way he did was because of his good grades. When test results were published at the end of the school year, he always placed in the top ten.

Jacob watched him shift listlessly in his seat and pick up a pair of pencils. Humming under his breath, Johnny started to rap the stationary against his desk, as if playing the drums.

Finally averting his gaze from the redhead, Jacob next focussed on the teacher sat at the head of the class. The Homeroom teacher, Miss Eryn Fisher was poised elegantly behind her desk, the tips of her well-manicured nails clicking over the keys of the laptop computer set in front of her. A slight and slim woman, her highlighted hair was braided neatly behind her back in a fishtail plait and fell over the back of her white-spotted red blouse.

As he watched her through his hair, Jacob caught himself thinking that she was very pretty. Miss Fisher's cheekbones were high and her chin pointed; her dainty egg of a head resting comfortably on top of a slender neck. The hairs of her eyebrows were precisely plucked, framing her large blue eyes.

Some of the other boys in class may have said that her nose was a bit long, or that her top row of teeth bore a snaggletooth, but Jacob found that he didn't care about that. Distinguishing features didn't exclude someone from compliments; didn't automatically mean that they should be considered ugly. They added charm.

At least, that's what Jacob had always thought.

Miss Fisher's attention was diverted away from typing up her lesson plans as the twins approached her desk. Sho and Rin Homura (Boy & Girl #13) stood with their backs to the class as they spoke to the teacher.

No doubt Rin was begging for more funding for the Chess Club, and her ever-present shadow decided to accompany her on the arduous trip to the front of the classroom. Jacob was surprised that Luna Prakasa (Girl #5) hadn't followed her up to the front as well. The Captain of the club was very rarely seen without her Vice in tow. Even in the company of their many friends, they rarely strayed far from one another.

If it wasn't for the clique-y nature of clubs, and the tightness of the group, Jacob would have considered joining the Chess Club. Unfortunately, the closeness of all of the members scared him off. He didn't want to intrude, and was worried that they would think of his other interests as too "geeky".

All of a sudden, Jacob was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of a feminine voice calling his name.

Emily Moore (Girl #11, Class 3B) stood in the doorway beckoning Jacob over. Not being too good with needles, Emily had volunteered to escort all of the students to have their injections under the condition that she received hers last.

An extremely pretty girl, she wasn't much shorter than him, allowing Jacob to study her features as she walked him down the corridor. She had a round face and a small, cute button nose. The upper edge of her top lip dipped down in an elegant cupid's bow, framing her small white teeth. Pencilled around her eyes, black eyeliner accentuated the colour of her clear grey irises, and a touch of foundation concealed any blemishes that may have existed on her porcelain white skin. Pulled tight behind her head in a bun, her long hair had been bleached white blonde, while streaks of her natural pale brown occasionally flashed through.

"-can't be too bad, can it?" While he had been subtly watching her, Emily had started talking. Jacob only managed to catch the tail end of her sentence, and had to scramble to make out the rest.

Already not a great conversationalist, Jacob fumbled his words for a second. "Um- Uh... Y-Yeah it shouldn't be that bad."

Jacob Silver, King of the Um's! his mind narrated, sarcastically.

Emily either didn't notice the stammer or didn't care. "I mean, I know it's silly, but I'd just rather go last, you know? It helps me feel better."

"No, it makes sense," he mumbled in reply. "My sister hates shots too."

"I didn't know you had a sister." Emily turned to look up at him as they walked side-by-side. "Come to think of it, I don't know much about you... I'm sorry! I suddenly feel really rude."

"It's okay," Jacob half-smiled. "Not many people know much about me. I don't exactly talk much."

"Well you're talking now," the blonde girl replied, cheerfully reassuring him. "And you're not too bad at it. Bonus!"

Laughing for the first time since arriving at school, he arrived at the door to the Nurse's Office.

"Just head in when you're ready," Emily said. "After it's done you can head out of the other door and go home."

"Thanks," Jacob said, waving the pretty girl off. His cheeks flushed an every so slight shade of pink.

Suddenly stopping in her tracks, Emily turned back towards him. "After I get mine done, I'll come and find you," she said. "So you can tell your sister that they're not so bad."

"But you're still scared, aren't you?"

Emily laughed. "Petrified."

The Nurse's Office of St. Joseph's Catholic Highschool was a small and clinical smelling space. Positioned in the dead centre of the building, it had two doors on either side to allow easy access for all students. Along the right hand side of the room was a low cot, and parallel to the bed was the Nurse's desk.

Sitting down on the cot, Jacob removed his blazer and rolled up his sleeve while the Nurse prepared the injection.

A middle aged woman with a neatly trimmed brown bob, she was as much a fixture in the school as the classrooms and fittings. Jacob had grown up watching her tend to the other teenagers that made St. Joseph's their home.

Flicking the tip of the needle, she pushed out a few drops of the fluid to ensure there was no air left in the device. Pulling out a cotton swab, soaked in alcohol, she wiped the inside of Jacob's elbow clean before inserting the needle.

That was when he had a curious thought:

Aren't injections usually in the upper arm?

The way that she had plunged the needle into the base of his forearm was like she was aiming to inject the vaccination directly into his bloodstream. Which couldn't be right.

Throwing a quizzical look at the woman, Jacob suddenly realised something else: her eyes were red and puffed from crying. Moisture still clung to the skin beneath her lashes.

Opening his mouth to question exactly what was going on, Jacob felt the words die in his throat. Instead a breathy moan escaped his lips. A daze spread through his thoughts, settling on his eyes. His vision started to blur and a dull tingle raced through his limbs. Suddenly gripped by a wave of fatigue, his eyelids felt heavy, as if weights had been hooked to his eyelashes. Weightlessness took him and he lost control of his muscles.

Falling back onto the cot, Jacob felt as if he were skydiving.

Entering through the other door, he just about made out the forms of two men dressed in military combats. Jackbooted stomps filled his ears in a dull pulse, and their forms appeared shimmering and lucid.

Jacob whited out.