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In a world filled with smog and broken dreams,
a menace far more dangerous than the mere
human could comprehend has finally come
out of hiding. It's the year 2022, and now
that the United Kingdom has become isolated
from the rest of the world, it's literally a place
where the principles of "kill or be killed", "eat
or be eaten" apply all too well.
ORIGINALS AREN'T BEING ACCEPTED;
PLEASE TAKE A LOOK AT THE CANONS.
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 plot.
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Group: admin.}
Posts: 9
Member No.: 2
Joined: 8-November 07
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 R E V E L A T I O N S
year twenty twenty-twoTen years ago, I would have laughed if someone asked me whether I believed in monsters. I would have been able to recall a childhood memory of myself as a little girl, hiding beneath a purple comforter while my father searched my closet. I can remember believing that monsters were creatures of mythical folklore, or those of the overrated campfire stories. Monsters were the villains of slasher films who reminded the audience that abstinence was the best protection against being hacked by a machete. As I grew older, monsters were no longer too fantastic to be real. Cynicism reminded me that everyone in this world is a monster. Sometimes I questioned whether we had all evolved from the same thing; something with a gene that planted evil in everyone. Either way, I didn't think reality could bend enough to accommodate monsters; the monsters from my nightmares. It's amazing how blind I turned out to be; how we ALL turned out to be. B E G I N N I N G S
may eighth;; 2o11The United Kingdom. Not much could have been said about it, besides its lack of involvement in handling the series of random bombings Glasgow, Scotland. For a few years, Parliament could only pride itself in finally ridding the U.K. of terrorism and xenophobia; no one really joined in the feeling of accomplishment. Still, the tension that once rippled through all four neighbouring countries had ceased. Unity was a healthy plague that rendered everyone unaware of a more serious danger that boiled beneath the subways. august twenty-first;; 2o11"It's not exactly the cure for Cancer. But it's the next best thing."
He wasn't the Prime Minister. Victor Falkland had never been recognized a day in his life, and it amazed everyone that a simple, no-named chemist could talk his way into Parliament with a "miracle drug" that stalled the immediate effects of Parkinson's and Alzheimer's, and decreased the off chance that someone could randomly have a stroke. In all honesty, it hadn't been that big of a deal, but anything that amazing was good enough. The drug hadn't been tested on actual human beings, but more than enough people were willing to go through it with; especially families who wanted something to hold onto. october thirteenth;; 2o11Everyone had lost count on how many people participated in the drug's first few test runs. It was like a massive wave. They poured in from Wales and Scotland to a test center in northern England. Ireland was skeptical, but a large amount of its people left anyway. The area was too desolate to find, and too heavily guarded to escape from. At the time, no one considered why it had to be so heavily guarded, but secrets were kept for a reason. By the thirty-first, the people who didn't have anyone to send for testing stopped wondering why the others weren't returning.
december twenty-fourth;; 2o11The government and the military tried to remain oblivious to the ripple of discontent. They didn't bother to stop the riots. They didn't bother to answer the questions that everyone really needed. Victor Falkland and his subjects had disappeared off the face of the planet, and no one had come back. The pain and the violence was like a placebo effect. It was the one thing that united the people, that filled the holes in their hearts. They would all die with their souls blackened, but it didn't matter. They were all together for the same thing. The rest of the world could only watch as the United Kingdom began to unravel at the seams. Merry Christmas. A V I C I O U S C Y C L E
year twenty twenty-twoTen years ago, England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland were perhaps four of the safest places that any human being could reside in. The government could no longer ignore the riots that ravaged two-thirds of Britain and the entirety of southern Ireland. An internal began to rage, but not before the military finally stepped in to shut down Dr. Falkland's research center. By the time the British army reached it, Dr. Falkland had disappeared, and any remnant of his research had been destroyed. Everything but the fifty thousand people who had fled to him for salvation. For the first time in three years, the rioting had come to a complete stop as new reports revealed the test sight. It was something else, staring at thousands of stone cold bodies strapped to surgical beds in a room the size of a packing warehouse. There was nothing that could help the public understand what had happened; nothing except the hatred that only intensified. By then, nothing was controllable. The military had no choice but to enforce their own violence. It was indeed a bloody year.
Once things had begun to die down, there wasn't much left of the United Kingdom to register as habitable. It was a bleak future; an apocalypse that had never been predicted. As the few straggling thousands of people tried to escape, to put their lives back together, Great Britain along with Ireland were officially cut off from the rest of the world. An isolated island. No one was allowed to leave. No one was allowed to come in. Left to fend for themselves, no one could care less for what was truly lurking. The smell of blood and chaos had unleashed a new menace; something far more dangerous than the small gangs of humans that acted as surrogate law enforcers for the deserted streets. No one knew how long they had been hiding... or waiting. Cynicism reminded me that everyone in this world is a monster.
Monsters that looked like us, acted like us, thought and loved like us.
They were just monsters;; literally.e x t r a i n f o r m a t i o n.
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STATEMENT skinned by Benjamin of Self Concept
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