HALF DARK

{This is a story I've decided to work on. The is the very beginning}

SEPTEMBER 5, 2010
I stood atop the Lyndon building, the tallest building in all of Dagon City, staring into the dark sky. It was raining hard, now, and the sound of thunder was almost never ending. I took of my helmet, staring at the sky. My hair was matted with sweat, and I felt as though my left arm was broken. I looked down at my suit. It was dirty from dirt and from blood. It was broken and cut, though I was told it was invincible. I looked at my helmet. It was sleek, almost like a motorcycle helmet, but form fitting. It was black, and had a gunmetal X covering the front of it. I threw it as hard as I could over the side of the building.
I was done with it. I was done with all: the illusions, the secrets, the lies. Being X hadn’t solved anything. The world wasn’t any better-if anything it was worse. The only thing that being X had accomplished is making the world worse. I had killed innocent people. I almost destroyed the city. And for what-to bring punishment to sinners? I hadn’t known these people, I hadn’t thought for myself and now their blood was on my hands. I deserved to die.
I felt my phone vibrate inside of my pocket, and heard the short tune Melody had chosen as my ringtone. I started to cry. It was just small sobs, but I knew I had to answer my phone. I reached into the front right part of my suit, and reached into the pocket that I had made. It was a call from Melody.
“Look, I’m really sorry, I lied to you, and, uh, I know that you probably will never forgive me, but it was only to try to keep you safe and…” I started.
“Kent,” She said. She sounded frazzled.
“Melody, I can’t talk to you right now,” my sobbing got worse. “I just have to do something.”
“Kent,” She said, “They’ve called you a menace to the city.”
“And I am, and I can’t be near you otherwise you’ll get killed or something.”
“Kent…they’re looking for you.”
“Yeah, I know that the police are looking for me”
“No, half the city wants to kill you, and the other half wants to protect you. You’ve caused a civil war.” I’d caused a civil war. The thought stuck in my head for a long time. Maybe…maybe I could do something good. The government in Dagon city was notoriously bad. I could lead a revolution, fix everything. No, that was child’s talk.
“Kent…”Melody whispered. “I…I need you. Just…just come by my place. You’ll be safe.” I wouldn’t be. But if I was with her, at least I could have guaranteed her safety, and that was enough to get me charging towards Mel’s apartment.
*   *   *
JUNE 3, 2009
I awoke to the loud monotonous blats of my alarm clock. I sighed as I awoke, yesterday had been a hard day, and today would be a hard day; everyday was hard. I took long strides into the bathroom of my small apartment. It, like the rest of the apartment, was painted a dull gray color. The color just seemed right-my whole life was gray, unexciting monotony. I turned on the shower and looked at myself in the mirror. I had to find a job that wasn’t just manual labor, or else I’d die. My black hair already had traces of grey though I was just 18 years old. My gold eyes had large bags under my eyes. Between work, writing, and binge drinking I usually didn’t have very much time to sleep.

I took a quick, unenthusiastic shower; everything that I did was quick and unenthusiastic. I ate my usual breakfast of leftovers (this day it was Chinese) and an apple. It didn’t taste good, but I wasn’t thinking about the food. I was thinking about how the heck I’d gotten myself into such a terrible existence.
I grabbed my backpack that contained the few things that were really important to me (the notebook in which I wrote, the key to my bike lock, an extra pair of clothes and some money) and took the stairs down the ground of the apartment building. I walked to my bike, which was locked to a lamp post. It was old, and the once bright red paint had peeled and faded, so now the bike was grey with bits of pink. Other than my own legs, it was the only form of transportation I had. I couldn’t afford a car or motorcycle, and I was strong enough that I could get anywhere on my bike with general ease.
I started biking towards the edge of Dagon City. Dagon City was surrounded by a giant, 5 mile tall wall that was used to keep the monsters out. The city was lucky that it wasn’t founded near dragons, otherwise it’d have to be surrounded by a dome, instead of the wall. But, nevertheless, the citizens of Dagon City hated the wall.
As for myself, I couldn’t hate the wall. The wall was my employment. It was my job to repair it, and to monitor the outside. It wasn’t an easy job, and tons of people hated me. But it was worth it. For one, it paid okay, better than any other job I could get my hands on. Also, it gave me good experiences to pull from in my writing. But, most important, on the rare occasion that someone thanked you for the job that you did, it was the best feeling in the world. I think that’s the main reason I did it, to help people. If I was working on the wall, nothing would pierce the walls. But I didn’t think that was why I did it, at the time. To be honest, I didn’t think I should be doing it, at the time. But I’m glad I did, or else my entire life would have been a whole lot different.
I pulled up to the main lookout center in the wall. It was grey concrete, just like the wall, and had only one door. Needless to say, it was boring. Everything was. But I think I’ve touched on that.
“Morning, Kent,” Said my coworker James, more out of courtesy that anything else. I didn’t like James. I don’t think James liked me. He was a monster of a man, 6’5”, easily four inches taller than me. Even his bald head seemed to have muscles. But I was somehow much better than he was. Sure, I usually didn’t get as much done, but that’s because I spent half my time thinking.
“Morning,” I responded, walking past him into the locker room. I entered my passcode into the locker that held my work clothes. That’s something the government had decided, they were going to make everything hi-tech. Which was fine, and it would be really good for me in the near future. But at this point, it was just a bit of a nuisance.
I grabbed my work clothes from the locker. They were the standard clothes for any manual labor worker for the government, a green jumpsuit with the flag of Dagon City (three horizontal stripes, the top and bottom being black, the middle being white with a green eagle in the center). Above the left breast pocket in said my last name, Rynwood.
Work consisted of mostly filling any holes with cement. There was an inner frame of the wall made of a metal that wasn’t on the periodic table that was the actual strength of the wall. But nevertheless, I spent my time fixing concrete. I spent most of my time working on the top half of the wall, mainly because I wasn’t scared too.
The government had built a system of small steel bridges to transverse the giant expanse that was the wall. I was about as high as it went, at 4.5 miles (the top half mile was prohibited). The tools that we used were pretty nice. We carried backpacks that were filled with cement. There was a pipe that led the cement into a gun-like device that we used to apply it to the wall. When I was done filling the hole, I walked to the next hole assigned to me. However, I saw someone standing on the pathway in front of me. It appeared to be a man, a little shorter than me. He wore a helmet that was completely black, and wore a black trench coat.
“I’ve been looking for you, Kent,” The man said. His voice seemed robotic.
“How do you know my name?” I questioned, slightly scared.
“That is beside the point.” He then pulled a knife out of his pocket and charged at me. I dodged his initial lunge with relative ease. I sprayed concrete at his helmet, hoping that it would blind him for a moment. I ran across the wall (a skill I did not think I could do), in order to get around him. But he was ready.
He constantly jabbed at me, but I was quicker than him. He got me a couple of times, but I didn’t notice. It was time to launch my counter attack. I charged at him, punching and kicking him so quickly that he didn’t have time to block. I tried to grab him, but he was able to squirm away. He was then able to grab me, and throw me off of the railing. I was quick, however, and somehow was able to grab his arm and pull him down with me. I was falling incredibly quickly, and was just trying to grab onto one of the railings. But the only time I did, the strange man dug his knife into my left arm. I could see the blood, but I somehow felt no pain. I turned myself around and tried to beat the strange man in the air, but he was gone. I was bloody, and falling, and I was going to die. Everything faded to black before I hit the ground.

{sorry, didn't write much today. I'll get back on it tomorrow}

NOVEMBER 16, 2001
I woke up extremely early. I was excited. It was my tenth birthday. But something much more important was happening. Today I was going to be adopted!
My father would be a man named Christopher McKenzie. He was an extremely wealthy, extremely odd man. He was middle aged; he adopted me when he was 43. He came from a very famous political family. One morning, he’d decided that he wanted a child. Christopher, as he insisted I called him, had only found true love once, when he was 15; she was named Lyn Green. He eventually married her, when he was 22 and she was 20. His life seemed to be complete. Christopher ran for president of the city-state of Dagon. He probably would’ve won, but disaster struck. He found that Lyn was having an affair with his own brother, James. She was going to have his child.
And she wasn’t sorry about it. She loved James. She loved Christopher too, probably more than his brother, but she loved James enough to have his child. And enough to run away with him. Christopher found the note she left him on the morning of October 29, 1985, exactly 15 years before he went to Samuel’s House for Orphaned Children and met me.
He really did love me. He loved how I was smart, and was okay with being alone. He loved how we looked similar enough to be actual father and son; we shared messy black hair and sharp features. He loved how I agreed with him that I should keep my surname, Rynwood. But more than anything, he loved that he could talk to me like another human being, not like a child.

{again, fairly light. But I made a huge decision today, and that's always good}
I quickly changed, trying not to wake up my roommates. I checked my alarm clock. It said that it was 6:00. To my 10 year old brain, I was awake so early. I skipped down the stairs, and to my surprise, Christopher was standing waiting for me. He was wearing a long black trench coat, with a simple white button down shirt and slacks underneath. He’d decided to make his full beard into a goatee. He was smiling from ear to ear.
“Kent,” he said, with a certain air of childish excitement in his voice, “what a pleasant surprise.”
“What’d you expect,” I said, with a type of arrogance that only children have, “It’s my birthday!”
“I know, Kent,” Christopher laughed, “And I have presents for you back at my house. But, before then, you really ought to say goodbye to all of your friends here. “
I nodded, and ran up the stairs as fast as I could. There were only four bedrooms in the house, and each one had about 5 kids in it. I first went into my own room. I shared it with two kids my age, Thomas and Jack, the former I hated, and the latter was my best friend. They were twins, and looked very similar though they weren’t identical. They both had extremely strait blond hair, and were both the same height. Their main difference was that Jack was a twig, and Thomas was overweight. They were awake when I entered the room.
“I’m gunna miss you…” Jack was crying. I walked over to him, and hugged him.
“C’mon man, you can get through this. This ain’t nothing, right?” I consoled him. That was our catchphrase. Really, it was everyone’s catchphrase. We’d all been in a lot of pain, and one day someone started saying it. Then everyone did.
“You were a good friend,” said Thomas. He probably didn’t mean it, but that was beside the point.
“Will you come back and visit?” asked Jerry, our 7 year old roommate. He was tiny in every respect of the word.
“Of course,” I smiled.
The next hour consisted of saying goodbye, 17 more times. It was really uneventful. Some crying. There was always crying. If anyone ever got out of the luxurious prison we were in everyone cried. Some because they would miss the person leaving. Some because they envied him. The latter happened more often than the former.
The last person I said goodbye to was a girl by the name of Melody Rodgers. She was a year younger than me, but we’d both been in the home for our entire lives. We were close; she was my second biggest friend after Jack. I liked her. I had always liked her. But I didn’t think anything of it, I just thought that that’s how female friends were.
“Kent,” She started. She was crying, and her breathing cut off her speech. “you *breathe* will *breathe*visit, right?”
“Of course,” I was smiling ear to ear. “I’ll even let you come to my new house sometime. It’ll be awesome.”
She hugged me. She was a few inches taller than me at that point, and her long blonde hair got in my face somehow. I laughed. She laughed. It was nice.