This took 3 months at least in order to get started. So hope you guys enjoy it. Oh and I changed the name. Exitium means death or destruction or something like that in Latin. (I need to retake those classes)
Anyway here's my Library < Right here
And if you want to see the preview in case you want more background knowledge, Preview and Characters < Here it is.
*Website for my stories will be up in 2 weeks*
Important Note: For my MK: Destruction readers, a new chapter is going to be launched next weekend. However, it will no longer be MK. It will be called Echo Praelior and every character will be renamed. I will provide a character name change list the day of release. (As to avoid confusion) I will make a post detailing why I decided to do a renaming of that story on 3/19/16.
It’s the year 3725, 3725 years from when the first universal war occurred.
The effect of the war caused the countries of Earth 3 to take drastic measures.
The richest countries, namely the United States, Canada, United Kingdom, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, France, Japan, and Australia, forced the less influential to work as slaves under threat of Biological and Technological warfare.
They said that this would enable the poorer countries to survive the universal war and that the issue would be revisited in a later time.
Things never changed.
“Come on Vitae, let’s go.” Vitae’s mother ordered from the livingroom. She was bored and annoyed of watching the news. She glanced around her area of where she was sitting. The living room of the house was connected to the kitchen, dining, 2nd living room, wine cellar, and car showroom showcase in an open floor plan. The walls were painted a pure white, the floors made of a high quality dark brown wood, and the furniture was all metal. The house was the average 60,000 square feet that citizens of Earth 3 have always had. The rooms were usually oversized, large, and immense.
The couch, from which Vitae stood up from, had a grey frame with black cushions, designed modernly in a U shape facing the television. The television was paper-thin and seemed to stick to the wall the same way paper sticks with glue and on each side were 2 art pieces worth $500,000.
She walked around the couch and behind it toward the kitchen. She passed the dining room, where a grey metal table sat with 12 velvet black chairs on each side, into the kitchen.
The kitchen, when viewed from the dining room, was a wide rectangle that extended to the left. Black cabinets and white marble countertops sat on each side with two stoves, each with 8 burners, on each side in the center with a vent over them. The island was made out of a flowy white wood with a black marble countertop that contrasts the rest of the kitchen and contained two ovens facing the stoves. Not one, but two double door fridges with a freezer drawer was in the corner of the right side of the kitchen.
She opened the fridge and grabbed some delicious Reese’s Peanut Butter cups and continued to eat them while walking. She walked into the second living room, where a large elongated fireplace that ran against the wall, tiled with granite, was to her right. The room was absent of a couch.
‘I thought I told my interior designer to have it by today. I will have to call him and fire him.’ She thought.
She walked, with the fireplace now behind her. She walked straight into the wine cellar. You could see the wine and liquor in their little wooden spaces through the glass walls that surrounded the cellar. The entire room was a square with 4 aisles in order to browse the selections.
She continued straight ahead into the entrance area. Curved stairs on each side of the entrance from the door welcomed any guest with grandeur and specialization. She went up the left side and, at the top, looked behind her from the balcony. To her left and right were two doors, hidden from view, that were two full bathrooms with 10 jet showers, dual sinks, and a private mini room for the toilet.
Vitae’s mother walked into the living space for the upstairs. A movie area with a diamond centerpiece in the middle and 3 holographic devices that were in the ceiling. From the center, the room extended to 3 third circle loveseats, which expanded to a full circle couch area, then to a bunch of mini-couches, loveseats, and single-cinema seats.
Behind the last row of single-cinema seats, there were doors to 6 different bedrooms. Vitae’s room was the door to the left of the entrance. Vitae’s mother looked at herself in a mirror that was next to the door.
She was wearing a blue dress that stayed flowing all the way down to the legs. Vitae’s mother has short blonde hair, white skin with reddish cheeks, and green eyes. She was very pretty, then again, everyone under the Falcon Empire was handsome and good looking. She was no exception and was 154 years old.
‘Those genetic treatments certainly work.’ She noted her ageless skin. The genetic treatments were required under Falcon Empire law. They prevent aging, diseases, and other genetic defects including stupidity, irrational thinking, physical laziness, and disabilities.
Vitae opened the door, eyes bright black with the pupils covering the entire eye, hair a fiery red, and skin very pale. He stood there staring for approximately 30 seconds and collapsed. Vitae’s mother dropped down and tried to wake him.
“Vitae. VITAE! It’s only a dream. Nothing is happening. Wake up. WAKE UP!”
“Unit 2078, Unit 2078, please report up to the overseer’s house.” The announcer spoke over the factory intercom.
Mortem, or 2078, sweaty and covered in grease, emerged from underneath of a giant technological hovership. It was propped up by yellow structural supports and was US military. Black, sleek, shaped triangularly, with sharp edges and laser guns mounted in the sides and front, it was a monstrous beauty.
It didn’t spare on comfort either, with the interior being decked out with a circular living space that doubled as an entertainment center and 2 bedrooms. The US military was keen on a soldier's deadliness and comfort. Something that was not seen long ago.
Mortem was a handsome human being. He had bright green eyes that pierced any subject he looked at, brown skin, and thick hair which stood up perfectly. His face was kind with a bright, joking smile. He was muscular and tall, due to the back breaking factory work of the years and the genetic augments. A simple white t-shirt and jeans showed his physique.
“I’m going,” 2078 patted his friend, 5078, on the back, “The leak in the reactor is fixed. All that’s left is the laser cannon in the front.” Mortem took off and threw his hazmat suit into a bin.
“You think that you are finally going to live like a king?” 5078 asked, regretting his friend leaving.
“Hopefully.” 2078 responded.
“Don’t forget who your people are,” 5078 reminded 2078, “Never forget where you come from.”
“I won’t. I have spent way too much time in this place. Maybe finally they will allow me to be something other than a teen slave.” 2078 spoke recalling the 400 years he, 5078, and 4056 spent in a hellhole as a 16 year old.
“Your age will not change. 4056 stayed the same age for certain marketable purposes.” 4056 was Vitae’s number. 5078, 2078, and Vitae were the perfect trio and were recognized across the poorer populations for being the representation of what it was like to live in hell. However, that fame faded away when Vitae was called and became the puppet of the United States.
“His name is Vitae.” 2078 responded.
“He was originally 4056 and that's how I will remember him.”
2078 pointed at a screen above his friend, “Do you see those numbers anywhere? Do you see the person you knew? Do you see that person who hated life because of what has happened to him?”
5078 looked up and stared at Vitae walking down a red carpet, laughing and posing. The truth struck him like a blow to the eye and he wanted to puncture a knife into himself.
“His name is Vitae and he is not and never will be 4056. That person is long gone.” 2078 stormed off toward the entrance of the hovership garage.
The streets of Sao Paulo, Brazil, were filled with shifty and deceitful citizens. Everyone looked like they were out to get something from you, which was either money, your watch, or just murder. Who could blame these people with the Rio de Janeiro looking as polluted, black, and disgusting as ever? Who could not understand their reasoning as they work in factories filled with chemicals destined to ruin their limbs? Who wasn’t angry at the fact that the air was barely breathable and covered in black powder?
2078 pondered all of this as he continued walking straight for about 3 blocks before hitting a crosswalk. He noticed the 400 story skyscrapers surrounding him of an era lesser known to commoners. ‘These were from an age of prosperity and technological innovation. What happened?’ He thought.
He noticed that there was a stop hand blinking with 10 seconds left in the direction he needed to go, to the right. He dashed across the 8 lane street and barely made it before the cars took off. He continued walking and was headed toward the edge of Sao Paulo.
The Edge of Sao Paulo was notorious for having a wall reaching into the sky and stopping at 5500 feet. It was clear that the United States, which controlled Sao Paulo, didn’t want the citizens of New Sao Paulo to see the horrors of politics.
‘Am I a negative person,’ 2078 questioned himself, ‘or just very realistic?’ He stopped and went inside a building that was about 2 blocks away from The Edge.
The building was rotting and had a pungent scent of mold. The walls, once a beautiful white, were discolored and yellow. The carpet was covered in green blotches of sorrow and dread. Rats were running out in the open and eating bits of furniture in the lobby. This was a normal sight.
“I thought you got rat killer or something.” 2078 went up to the front desk and leaned over the counter.
“I did, trust me I did. But they cheaped out and gave me some weakened formula.” An African-American lady responded dressed in a suit with the tag Verdana Apartments on it.
“They as in the US cheaped out and decided to save more money due to, quote unquote, economic problems.” 2078 stated.
“Ah whatever. **** whoever the president is now. What was his name again?” The lady asked.
“He just calls himself The President.” 2078 said indignantly with the intention of mocking.
“Now now, you shouldn’t mock those people,” She stared curiously at 2078, “especially when you are about to become one.”
“Wha--- how did you know?”
“Vitae. You have the same eyes as him when he came here. The hatred. Look at him now.”
“I will never become him. Never.” 2078 denied the accusation.
“Vitae told me the same thing about how he would never become a Presidential puppet. Guess what happened?”
“Whatever lady. I need to see the overseer.” 2078 demanded.
“I am the overseer. Here’s your ticket,” the lady handed 2078 a gold colored ticket for a train to the United States.
“Thank you.” 2078 admired the ticket while leaving.
“One more thing,” 2078 stopped and looked back smiling, “Your name is now Mortem. I get to pick the names.” The overseer stated.
“Wow, thanks. Nice to know my name means death.” Mortem’s smile disappeared. He spoke sarcastically and disrespectfully to the overseer.
“Vitae had more manners. I am glad to know you have some knowledge of other subjects, even though Latin may be a little basic, because your attitude won’t get you anywhere.” The overseer shot back.
“Whatever b*tch. You overworked me in a factory. You deserve zero, nada, zilch respect.” Mortem pushed the door and left.
He walked toward The Edge, which is where the ticket said to go. He kept looking at the golden ticket, shining like a ring in the fractional amount of light. He looked up and realized people were starting to look at him with the ticket, so he ran toward The Edge.
Once he reached it, he stopped and showed his ticket to a guard. The guard, dressed in black sleek light armor which resembled an Iron Man suit, checked it with a black light and held up a fist for 5 seconds to another watch guard. A swarm of black guards emerged from left and right. They surrounded the perimeter of the gate while Mortem stood in the middle, watching in awe as the gate swung open toward the other side.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Vitae screamed and swung his arms out in the open. He broke one of the metal bands of the Genetic Analyzer and Corrector.
“Sh*t.” He said aloud as he looked upon the bed he was now sitting in. Attached to it are two metal half circles which scanned the patient and fixed genetic or cybernetic defects. Well, at least there were two. Now one was on the ground in pieces.
Vitae rubbed his face and stood up from the bed. He looked around at the hospital room. There were two chairs in the side where the window facing outwards of the building was. A door and another window facing toward the inside of the hospital were on the other side. His bed faced a dresser that was black and sleek.
Vitae was in a simple white t-shirt and white pants. His skin color was no longer grey and his eyes were no longer a deep black. Instead, his skin was white and his eyes showcased a friendly purple color. Like Mortem, he was muscular and tall due to factory work. His hair was, however, cut into a mohawk colored pink.
“Ow my head for sh*t p*ss*n d*cks sake!” Vitae screamed, pressing his head between his hands, kneeling on the ground.
Vitae collected himself and stood up. He closed his eyes and imagined a world where everyone was equal. That seemed to calm him whenever he would get a rapid influx of thoughts.
“Vitae,” Vitae’s mother walked in, “Here, have some Diamond Coca-Cola.”
Vitae snatched the bottle, “I can’t drink this right now.”
“You love Diamond Coca-Cola. Just drink it for sh*ts sake.”
Vitae admired the bottle, just like he did with any Diamond Coca Cola. He turned it to where it said “made with one 2.02 carat diamond” and slowly turned it back to the Coca-Cola logo. He popped off the cap and took a delicious smooth sip of the drink.
“I gave you that to perhaps relax your nerves before you heard the news.” Vitae’s mother interrupted his ritual.
“2078 is coming.” Vitae stated.
“Wha-- how did--”
“Remember when I said that I can make calculations and see the future. Well guess what happened?” Vitae sat the bottle on the dresser next to the bed.
“You saw him.”
“I not only saw him, but he’s going to become another me. He can see the past, I see the future, and together we see both.”
“That was not the news I wanted to tell you.” Vitae’s mother admitted.
“What is the news then?” Vitae was worried. Something unforeseen had occurred, which has never happened before.
“It’s official,” Vitae’s mother walked slowly toward and sat down on the bed, “I die in a tunnel due to an explosive placed in my car tomorrow.”
“They are going to kill you?!” Vitae whined.
“Yes. Either I can die a miserable death or die the way Princess Diana did all those years ago.”
An infinite moment of silence had existed between them. Vitae looking hopeless at the ground, barely standing up. His mother looking at him, realizing he was already miserable and that he would be more miserable.
“And the difference is, Princess Diana died from an accident. I am going to die due to a Brazilian Extremist attack. If I refuse, then my double will take the role.”
“Let your double take it.” Vitae pleaded.
“I can’t let another innocent person die due to my mistakes. I should have never accepted the offer to become a political activist. A celebrity. It’s taken a toll on both of us.”
“What am I supposed to do? I have nothing after you die.”
“You can be with Mortem. He was your friend.”
“I left and became someone else. He noticed that and everyone back there noticed that. We are traitors.”
Vitae’s mother had an epiphany. They were both traitors, but what if you could establish a traitor as a double-agent. The murderer of the betrayer becomes the friend of the one who was originally betrayed. Vitae could tell that his mother had a sudden realization due to her expression.
“You are going to be my murderer.” Vitae’s mother said.
“If I make it look like I was, then maybe the poorer populations would start following me.” Vitae realized that a plan was forming.
“And you let the revolution begin. However, you have to be subtle about the message. Something that only our people can understand.”
“The Falcon. Falcon Industries was the one who tried to stop The Enslavement but was kicked out by Germany and the United States.” Vitae spoke with excitement.
“And it represents a time when there was peace and prosperity. I remember as if it was yesterday. That thing,” Vitae’s mother stood up and nodded her head toward the Genetic Analyzer and Corrector, “just came on the market for Earth 3. Rubrum promised us immortality and we got it.”
“Achieving the Corvus Dream, as they say.” Vitae commented.
“Yes and you will carry that dream. Bring the Falcon back.” Vitae’s mother encouraged him. They both hugged each other, knowing that by the end of tomorrow they would part ways.
“I need to convince Mortem.” Vitae broke the hug and silence.
“I will have that set up for you by tomorrow. You two will stand together with a burning symbol behind you two. Anyway, I have plans to make.” Vitae’s mother walked out the door.
Vitae grabbed the Diamond Coca Cola off the dresser and downed it before tossing it into the trash can. Vitae put on a brown overcoat that reached his feet and walked out of the room.
The hospital was a giant spiral building of about 1255 stories. The entire center was open and you could see the bottom of the hospital while the rooms and equipment were placed toward the outside. Black pillars ran along the interior and along the balconies to support the building.
‘Now’s the time to take my life back.’ He thought as he headed toward the nearest elevator. Once back on the ground, he walked out the front entrance of the hospital, where the media was waiting.
Vitae was bombarded by blinding camera flashes and microphones trying to pull responses out of him. A reporter pushed him to try to get his attention but he continued walking. A photographer spinned him to get a picture and he continued walking. Finally, another reporter shoved a microphone into his face. He smacked it out of her hands.
“Hey, what the hell? That microphone costs 5000 dollars you idiot.” The reporter screamed.
“How about you back off and when I want to answer a question, I will ********* answer it.” Vitae replied sternly. He got into his BMW and did a burnout before taking off.
‘Well that wasn’t good press.’ Vitae thought as he raced across the city of Los Angeles.
“Oh my god. Are you Vitae’s best friend?” A man in the city of New Sao Paulo stopped Mortem at the entrance of the Rio De Janeiro Hyperloop station. The station was set in the skyscrapers above the clouds overlooking the city of New Sao Paulo. The Edge was the utter division of old and new and sat covering the area of poverty and pollution. Mortem was surprised to see the difference in climate.
The station didn’t have a roof and was interconnected between 3 buildings with holes going through them. Different Hyperloops arrived and went in the many tubes carrying them. The station was made to feel as if you were flying, so the floor was made out of a clear polycarbonate with clear barriers at the sides.
“I used to be.” Mortem responded and continue walking before being stopped by the man again.
“Bad response. If you want people to love you, you have to love Vitae. Otherwise you won’t be a celebrity.”
“Who are you exactly?” Mortem turned and questioned the mysterious man in a white tuxedo, black top hat, red eyes, and a muscular physique.
“I’m your publicist. You are scheduled to meet with Vitae so you better get on that train.” The Publicist pointed Mortem to one of the Hyperloops. It’s next stop was Los Angeles.
“I was getting there. Thank you for telling me obvious information.”
“Just get on the damn train. Vitae wants to meet with you before the public appearance.”
“What public appearance?” Mortem was clueless.
“Do you not pay attention to the media? Whoever is the next person that is from the Poverty gets all the attention for like a week.” The Publicist replied.
“The Poverty? So that’s what you guys call it. Well at least the name truly represents that sh*th*le.” Mortem caused a deep pain within himself. He remembered all those years he had to suffer.
The Publicist noticed Mortem’s deep afflictions. After all, he has dealt with Poverty Newcomers for over 600 years. It’s not like the bionics and all the genetic treatments from the GAC (Genetic Analyzer and Corrector) have completely stripped away all the humanity within him. But he was going to say what he said to Vitae and many others before him.
“If you are referencing ‘they’ as in the people of the powerful countries, know that they don’t care about anyone in The Poverty. They care more about who comes out a hero and who comes out a villain. I’d suggest you stay away from the latter.”
“What’s your name?” Mortem asked.
“Nickolai or you can just call me Nick.”