[1st person POV]
Year 2110, Vagrant's End, Eros Continent
Before I was known as Zero Zeke, the Red Ghost, or the Abomination of All Mankind, I was nothing more than a bum scraping through life in the slums of Vagrant's End, Base 9, the lowest pit of the continent of Eros.
The air there reeked of rust, sweat, and broken dreams. Hunger gnawed at our bellies like wild rats, disease rotted our skin, and death was an everyday song that nobody bothered to mourn.
We were the forgotten and the bottom of civilization's food chain.
And like every system in the history of mankind, our glorious Central Dominion of Humanity didn't give a damn. They built their shining towers and floating citadels up north, calling themselves saviors, and let the rest of us drown in the gutter.
Crossing into another Base was forbidden, unless you were Awakened. And only thirty percent of humanity ever awakened.
The rest of us? The seventy percent?
We were the rot holding up their paradise.
Bases 8 and 9 became a landfill for the unwanted criminals, failed soldiers, orphans or exiled scientists. A hell carved out of steel and dust.
And I was one of them. No powers or a future. Just another nameless piece of trash trying to stay alive one day longer than the next.
But life has a funny way of turning nobodies into monsters.
I had joined a group of bandits that stole from soldiers, Flame Priests, and any government officials unlucky enough to set foot in our base. Whether they came to "restore order" or just remind us that we lived under the mercy of the Central Dominion, their visits always meant the same thing. Pain for us, pleasure for them.
They'd say we should be grateful, that at least we weren't out there beyond the walls getting devoured by beasts.
Today, they came bearing a different kind of sermon.
"The Central Dominion has given you all a chance to become better than what you are," a soldier barked from atop an old truck, his voice booming through a rusted loudspeaker. "To become pillars of humanity. To actually matter."
He wore a crisp blue uniform with golden trimmings, his boots spotless, his chin high. You could smell his arrogance from across the street.
"We are looking for volunteers," he continued, chest puffed like a peacock. "People who will help our cause in exploring the Red Islands....the next frontier of human civilization."
"You mean you're looking for soldiers," an old woman croaked from the crowd, her wrinkled hands clinging to a wooden cane.
"Something like that," the soldier replied with a smile. "Technically, you won't be real soldiers - more like… helpers. But it's better than rotting in this hole you call a home."
He said that last part while eyeing the crowd like he was staring into a sewer.
Someone shouted from behind me, "Then tell your mighty government to kiss my blue ass!"
The crowd erupted with laughter and cheers. I grinned as I pushed forward through the sea of bodies, weaving my way toward a soldier standing off to the side. Young, distracted, and completely unaware of me.
He mad the perfect target.
I bumped into him hard. "Aah, sorry, sir! Someone pushed me...my bad," I said quickly, lowering my head in fake apology.
By the time he brushed me off and turned away, I'd already slipped the few credits from his belt and passed them into Stifler's hand. My partner vanished into the crowd like smoke.
Another successful grab. The Dominion came to talk about volunteers. We just volunteered their wallets.
The soldier frowned. His hand went to his belt, patting down the pocket where his credits were supposed to be.
Then his face twisted.
"They're gone…" he muttered, before his eyes snapped toward me like a wolf scenting blood.
"Hey! You!" he barked, stepping forward. "You stole from me, didn't you?"
The crowd started to quiet. Eyes turned towards us and whispers rippled through the slum.
I raised my hands, palms open. "Me? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't play dumb, rat!" He grabbed me by the collar, jerking me closer until I could smell the polish on his armor and the bitterness of his breath.
"I said I didn't take anything," I said, forcing a grin. "Maybe check where you last dropped your dignity, soldier boy."
The crowd chuckled under. That did it.
His face went red. "You think this is a game?"
I spat to the side. "No, just entertainment."
His hand moved fast, cold and steel flashed.
Pain ripped through my gut before I even realized what had happened. I looked down, his bayonet was buried deep, the hilt pressed against my stomach. My breath caught. My vision blurred.
"You....Government bastard...." I gasped, falling to my knees.
Blood spilled across the dirt like spilled oil. The crowd screamed, some running, others just staring.
The soldier ripped his weapon out, flicking my blood off the blade. "Let that be a lesson," he barked at the rest. "This is what happens when you steal from the Dominion!"
His words rang in my ears as I hit the ground. My vision dimmed, the world around me fading to black. I felt hands grab me, rough and cold, dragging me away like a piece of trash.
And then I felt the cell. Damp, cold and stinking of death.
I remember bleeding out in the dark, feeling the last warmth leave my body. The voices outside blurred into silence.