[FANFIC-WIP] Rise Of The Phoenix.

[Fkeu'itan]

This is my first attempt at writing a fanfic, so bear with me on this, it may also be a fairly long time between updates as I have a lot on my plate at the moment. Also, I have a vague idea of the story, but it's still pretty open ended in the grand scheme of things.

A further warning, this opening section is quite dark.

Constructive criticism is always welcome.

NOTE: snig gers is spelt wrong because of censorship issues.

Prologue

The year is 2148. In a world of endless concrete hulks, walls and barriers splashed with corporate propaganda and air too thick to breathe, a lone man is pulled violently from the back of an armoured truck. Hooded, with his wrists bound and his head hung low, his off-white facemask catches the washed-out sun. In an instant, flashbulbs and shouting erupt, a barrage of hundreds of questions hurled while a number of ‘civil peacekeepers’ do what their name suggests - mainly via the use of targeted blows to the unarmed and seemingly ravenous crowd. Of all the questions asked, only one was answered. The crowd fell deafly silent as they waited for the man to speak. He mumbled only two words.

“F*ck you.”

With that, the crowd exploded once again. Following the man, the deafening sound of a possible news story filling the smoggy air, they document as he is marched into a towering black and grey building. The crowd remains ravenous still, hungry for a story and their ‘big break’. They surge the civil peacekeepers demanding answers.

That’s when the shots were fired.

Chapter 1 – Life’s only funny when you think it is.

Phoenix was never an angry guy, if anything he was passive considering what he had been through. His father had died when he was young, about 12 or 13, which left only his mother to care for him. 3 years later, when she fell behind on the state fee, she too was wrenched callously away from him, thrown into prison for crimes against economy.

He had no one.

Luckily, if you can call it lucky, the state social services agreed to take him in. This was becoming increasingly unusual in this world, it was deemed “no longer economically viable” by the powers that be, powers that had long since forgotten the people they were supposedly governing. Phoenix was given a place in a mediocre state school, but it was hell. Having never been in the education system before, he was far behind even the lowest of pupils and for this, he was bullied.

This was of course not the only thing he was bullied for. His sharp jaw line, deep-set eyes, furrowed brow and premature beard did nothing to help his situation. He had always been a broad and tall person and he towered over those who caused him so much emotional pain. This was one feature he would one day exploit. He was bombarded with insults and mocking on a daily basis. Claims that he was poor, unwashed and useless.

It started as any normal Monday morning, the moment he walked into the school building, he was greeted with pointing and snigers. One young man, quite short in comparison with those who gathered around him, with slight features and blond, almost white hair shouted

“What’s wrong?! Daddy not there to dress you?” and to this he laughed, feeling big and important in his little world.

Phoenix said nothing, he simply kept his head down as best he could and kept walking to his class.

“Hey slumdog! I’m talking you, you dumba**!”.

He walked on still. The small man ran up to him, hitting Phoenix in the back of the head. It felt like a lack-lustre punch. Phoenix had bottled his feelings for the best part of 2 years now and he thought this was just another incident he could learn to deal with...

His fist said otherwise.

It found itself deep in the side of the small guy’s cheek, creating a recoil which made him stagger backwards. He stood, partly in awe of himself, partly in a sense of happiness. He was a propane tank ready to explode… and he had just lit a match.

Phoenix glanced over to the other guy, now stood with a dazed look on his face. He raised his fist and swung again. He landed a hit right on the bridge of his nose, blood now seeping from his left nostril. The force of the punch sent the slight figure of a man to the floor. Phoenix crouched over this small and seemingly insignificant being and rained down a hail of punches into his face. As he did so, Phoenix found himself at first smiling and then manically laughing as he pummelled his skull over and over again. It was like a monumental weight was coming off his shoulders, years of abuse from the world and the people around him finally coming back around. It felt good. He only stopped when he noticed the dark crimson blood oozing from the back of the guy’s head, staining his silvery hair and the lack of movement from his limp body.

While Phoenix took several steps back, looking confused and bewildered as to what had just happened, what he had just done, the group of people who had surrounded them once the fight had begun were noe split into two groups. One group tended to their injured, or more appropriately, dead friend and the others simply stared at Phoenix, some backing away hands held aloft.

Phoenix collapsed into a corner and cried hysterically, rocking back and forth, blood rapidly congealing on his face and the hands that were clasping it.

He instantly regretted what he had done.

***

As Phoenix was dragged out of the back of the truck, he was blinded. He dipped his hooded head to stifle the flashes. The paparazzi were hungry for no doubt what would be the story of the week, a story of how an 18-year-old man had beat a ‘classmate’ to death in the school’s corridors. He was hit by a wall of demands, only one of which he heard…

“Would you like to talk about colourful past Mr. Altman?!”

This created a violent and painful flashback to all that had come before him. He wished he could go back and do everything in his life thus far so very differently. Choking back tears of regret, he could mumble only one empty response.

“F*ck you”.

With this, he was forced inside the judiciary building, an imposing tower made of concrete and marble, designed to show both importance and to terrify those who entered. He was marched inside. He heard a number of what sounded like gunshots from outside the building, but wrenching his neck around to try and see the commotion only achieved a scolding from the officer who was apparently in charge.

“Sh*t boy, don’t you f*cken listen? Do as I f*cken say! No f*cken lookin’ around!” and he tapped his baton against his head just hard enough for Phoenix to understand what the action meant.

They marched for what seemed like an age through the lobby of the gigantic building until they reached the main desk. The building certainly achieved it's goals.

“Phoenix Altman, prisoner number 20381867X, up for the trial of the murder of Toby Steiner.” Exclaimed another enforcer in a bland and monotone voice, his large hands grasping Phoenix tightly by the scruff of neck. “Right this way officer.” Replied the receptionist.

He was led into a cavernous room, adorned with the flags of forgotten nations and pompous crests that promised “Fair judgement in the arm of the law”. A room that further pushed down on Phoenix, making him feel small and hopeless. He was sat down, his hood pulled back and was greeted by the cold eyes of the judge. The enforcers moved to the back of the room. There was no one there to control what sentence he received, he was not worth the money.

“Look Mr. Altman, I’m going to make this very, very simple for you.”
He paused, enjoying every single second of Phoenix’s awkward look.

“Yes sir?”

“You have two choices here today, you can either be executed by lethal injection tomorrow and I can bill what's feft of your family for the trouble, or you can enjoy 10 years of military service on the biggest hellhole in the known universe, all for the price of absolutely nothing... So which would you rather?” The judge questioned, a sly grin spreading across his face.

That was when Phoenix first joined the RDA.