There are a few societies in America. The strongest cultural identities are based on race. In my town Dunville, there are four races to deal with. White, Black, Mexican, and Middle Eastern. Whites and Blacks are the main guys as per usual, but the others are around.
Next we have gangs, which are based around race again. I only know the names of two. The Mexican gang Los Diablos, and the BDs. I never figured out what the abbreviation meant, nobody told me. I just think Bitch, Damn. And move along. It could be Black Dudes since it's a black gang.
I don't know if the other two have gangs. I assume white people have the cops to an extent. But otherwise, I don't know. Maybe they both have the cops if they're good people. But it's a gang war, so they probably can't rely on them. It's bullshit.
But ah well, we ball. I am walking down a street by a salvation army church when a kidnapping happens. I watch, shocked. And amused when I recognize someone. It's a former high school comrade, David Lettuce. A tall tan kid with a white dude afro wearing a black and yellow basketball outfit.
He's helping with the kidnapping. We vibe with it for now, it's gangland season with a sprinkling of me, the blackmailer. We wait for an opportunity.
Twenty minutes later, his half brother Alex shows up. He's pissed and apparently a cute femboy today. Nice.
"He fucked my girlfriend. Where's David?" Alex says angrily.
"I dunno, he went towards Unfair Oaks after kidnapping a bitch." I say casually.
He glares at me and walks away. He looked too cute, and well. I was in a Fuckboy mood.
"Yo Alex! What if we got something to eat? It's been a while." I yell hopefully.
He smirks and flips me off.
"Stop being gay, Jacob." Alex mutters angrily.
I roll my eyes and walk a different way. Surprisingly that will pay off in dividends of pain. Cause David rolls up around the corner with his homies in a cadillac. I step behind a pole as they open fire. And their shots feel like BBs. I laugh at them as they drive by and keep walking. They drive back, staring at me with horror!
"Hey, nice BBs. Are you broke today?" I ask cockily.
They drive off, David crying. I thought it was cause he felt guilty for attempted murder of a former friend.
5 minutes later, my Uncle is calling in a panic.
"Are you a lab rat?" Uncle asks with fear.
"Lab rat, what do ya mean?" I say confusedly.
"I'm gonna be real bro. David and those guys used real guns on you. You should be dead." Uncle says with sincere fear.
I'm stunned for a moment. Then the cockiness of immortality steps in TOO HARD!
"Guess I'm a God then. Only question is how and why." I say happily.
"Shut up Jacob, be serious." Uncle says annoyedly.
"Well, being real. I've got no idea how I resisted bullets besides having a high iron blood content. I'm at like 10% iron or some shit." I say happily.
"Well, anything's possible. That doesn't rule you out as a lab rat though. In fact, it makes you weird." Uncle says seriously. "I'll talk to ya later. Stay safe."
"Take it easy, Uncle." I say happily.
It was a strange, enlightening feeling. I felt I grew from the tools of blackmail to something utterly incredible. I am a God of War. Probably. Depending on how badass I am as of now. The only question is how it happened. Which is a mystery.
A mystery that unfolds as I listen to my own madness as I walk around the town, gathering information.
There was a green mist in certain spots that hurt if I went too close. A man standing on a porch in a yellow radioactive suit yells at me.
"Stay back from my yard! I put radon in it to keep you bastards away!" Old Man Rad Suit yells angrily.
I flashback to the past, when I remember when they threw a demon core at me while walking to my car from a grocery store. I was 16. Probably, I dunno, or 19. Who knows, I had money for good groceries. But then it happened. The demon core of nuclear energy got thrown at me. And suddenly I was radioactive man.
Cause adrenaline bug activated. I felt death, then had Stan Lee vibes. I kicked down a brick wall with a front kick. Then a van tried to run into me. I kicked it too! It died! It got crushed like a super hero moment!
I'm back in real life. I pick up a rock and throw it light at him. When I flick my fingers at him, it literally shoots forward hard as shit. And he shatters into glass. It was a sign.
Then fucking Morality Bug appears as a spirit in my face. Say hi to fucking Dale Riddle from Queen of the Hill.
"Why'd you fucking do that, psyhco!? Go home!" Dale yells angrily.
"What, no! He has radon, fuck him!" I snap angrily.
"It's bug spray. Also I'm the government. Welcome to bug land. With the real government. I'm Barack Obama, drone lord." Dale Obama says cockily.
I stare at Dale who is claiming to be Obama.
"Why are you Dale Riddle, Obama?" I ask angrily.
"I'm what the bugs represent me as in your personality as we don't really know each other. In what your fantasy stories call psychic land, people you don't know appear as fictional characters. So shut up, I'm Dale Riddle." Dale says with polite cockiness.
I hunch over, disappointed. I did bug economics recently. Life is bullshit.
"Bruh, don't kill my adventurer vibe." I say angrily.
"Shut up, we're the government. We can rule your world with bugs." Dale says angrily.
Suddenly my body is covered with centipedes, and their legs dig into me. And make me fucking power walk home hard as fuck. It's exhausting, and interesting. I move as fast as a car at one point. And it's over so fast, I'm back in my room wondering if it was a dream.
Then fucking card theory anarchist hour happens. Cause rebels of society hack my tv to yell at me about how we should kill all bugs. Cause even people like Burnie Sunders shows up in what basically becomes video calls on my tv. To the point it's dumb. I end up basically stuck in psyche land hell hole because of it.
Cause I argue too hard. It happens like this.
"Jacob, help! We need to beat the government, tell us how to beat bug builds." C-3PO says angrily.
I look at the tv angrily, recognizing the voice. It's a youtuber that I remember is an Anarchist. I don't remember his name, but I remember his vibe. Cause it's weird. His videos are hacked. And the hacks spread sometimes. Just roll with it, dealing with anarchists is weird. Cause it's basically meth head logic plus meatman logic plus bug world government logic plus fucking morality bug logic.
"There's bugs in your skin that try to eat you if you say bad thoughts." I say fearfully.
I had dealt with meatman logic before at this, I already hated where this was going when I say that.
"We have to beat morality bug. Tell us how to cope with crimes." C-3PO says seriously.
It's sad to look at a man telling me how to beat morality. It's bullshit, especially during government hack season. I can't tell if it's a trap or not. Especially when a 3-D fortnite fucking Dale Gribble appears suddenly in my room, and mimes choking himself. Then the fucking Anarchist starts sounding like he's choking.
Then Dale snaps at me with a woman's voice "Go to sleep!" And I compulsively pass the fuck out. And wake up again in card jammer house, my workplace. At my machines. Ugh. With Government Dan and a few actual fucking Marines standing over me.
"Get to work or you're fired. And these are slave hours since you've been a fucking dumbass hoodlum. Better hope it's just hoodlum." Dan says with angry sterness.
I get mad enough to fight over slavery, until the soldiers point their automatic rifles at me. And I just sigh sadly. It's slavery hours in America today. Ugh. I am stuck in the box too hard. To the point it's sad and based. Cause I card game too hard based on how weird my job was today.
To start with, I normally measure parts. Too regularly. It's on a timer in my head. Around 6 minutes, bare minimum. 10 minutes max. Or more if my mind slips honestly. On good days with the machines, I do the parts well.
But it's bullshit today. I stay in the box too long. And ask questions. Like-
"So why aren't we measuring parts?" I ask with amused curiousity.
Dan looked at me like a lovable buffoon.
"You're gonna be mad, but I know you. You'll love it eventually. The process is actually fucking perfect." Dan says with Jekyll-like humor.
I am both mad and very pleased.
"So my job is that bullshit? This is both a blessing and a curse. I've been too stressed at this job for no fucking reason." I say tensely.
I'm restraining an intense burst of rage by admitting how great it is I can ignore parts now. … For five minutes.
"Don't fucking slack off cause I told you the process is perfect, I hate that you know that now. You're too relaxed now." Dan says with angry seriousness. "Go gauge parts."
"He can't, we're locked in the box." Soldier says sternly.
"Ah right, dystopian slave hours. Right, gotta keep track of ya." Dan says annoyedly.
I just work in the box for hours. I basically live in it, just working out endlessly until they let me sleep. For exactly four hours. Cause slave hours are bullshit.
"You're a criminal, Jacob. Four hours, hop to it." Repo says sternly.
I sigh sadly, get out the cage that is an abandoned office, and go back to my machines. Dan gives me a sad blessing of making work too normal.
"Do your gauging, I'm sick of skipping it. We're all mad you skipped gauging." Dan says angrily.
"Yeah, you're a criminal. Why'd he get to slack off? We worked like civilians, criminal land is bullshit." Sera says angrily.
I roll my eyes. I hate being hated on. It's annoying. Especially when I deserve it.
"Just ignore Jacob, he's a criminal today. He's on slave hours until his psyche eval is over." Senior Op Tim says sternly.
"Move along." Dan says angrily.
We all move along too hard. I have guards with me as we walk too hard. It gets funny eventually though. Cause one of the soldiers break down with criminal laziness.
"Sir, I need to stop walking. It's exhausting keeping up with the slave." Soldier A says, angrily tired.
He's heavy of breath and sweating. I giggle, Dan glares at me. Then lectures the Soldier in such a funny way that I shouldn't laugh at.
"If you can't keep up with him, you seem weak to the slave. I know him, he's a street punk. He will think you're fresh meat." Dan says angrily.
I giggled the whole time, the Soldier was so mad by the end of that sentence, he punched me in the mouth. Several times. It was annoying. Dan let him do it. For three punches. Then he yelled "STOP!" And the Soldier compulsively stopped with great duty.
"You deserved that, no complaints dumbass." Dan says sternly.
"Yes, sir." I say sadly.
Unfortunately, it escalates at the worst time. Literally. Cause a heist goes off while all the Soldiers and the best build besides me, Government Agent Dan with rubber cement, are watching me hard as shit.
Somebody literally tries to steal a semi truck of parts. All hell breaks out next chapter.