Masquerade
Pet Name: Masquerade
Owner: nine
Theme / Type: Nightmare Quari
MisticPal Name: Palindrome
MisticPal Age: 4890 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 3 / 3
Strength: 1
Defense: 3
Speed: 4
Intellect: 2
Misticpower: 4
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
[ - S Y N C P R O J E C T - ]
Given Name: Noah Mistral ; Age: 20
[Honest || Introspective || Accepting || Attentive || Diligent]
Rank: Advance Squad 1 Lieutenant VIS-004983
Skills: Close-Range Weaponry, Explosives
[Loves: People Watching, Singing, Storms]
[Fears: Attention, Silence, Solitude]
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I'm standing on the edge, that fine line between earth and sky - melting into the horizon.
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Sometimes I look up at the polluted sky - a perpetual grey haze, and I wonder if it's really worth living a life like this. People these days - literally faceless, are simply living to die. How was life back then, I wonder? How this all started is still a mystery. Humanity, despite all their genius and cunning, still can't figure it out. The sun and blue sky are but a dream now - something nobody in this generation has ever seen. Oh, those who live in the Eden Halls have an artificial sun, a fake blue sky, and their individuality... theoretically. I wouldn't know. I've never been there myself. Ah? Oh, why am I not wearing a mask? Hm... well, it's a bit of a long story but it's not really like you have anything better to do anyways, am I right?
100 years ago, humanity fought a futile battle against pollution. It was a war that could not be won. The level of toxins in the air multiplied exponentially for reasons nobody could understand. It wasn't like cities were churning out more smog than usual, or that anything had changed - it simply seemed like the world was just... dying. In six and a half years, the air quality had become so bad, that an average person's life expectancy was reduced from about 77.5 years to a mere estimated 32 - and if nothing was done fast, it would only decrease further. There was nothing modern medicine could do about the multitude of problems the toxic atmosphere caused. Life was dying off this planet faster than it could reproduce. Famine became widespread. Discord ravaged the world. Areas of high population density were most negatively affected. Corpses lined the streets, and the air simply grew worse and worse. Hardy pests thrived - the only things whose lives this disaster seemed to make easier.
The governments of the world, for the first time in the history of mankind, united as one to try and find the remedy for this problem. This united government was given the name "World One". Great minds from every corner of the world united under a common cause, but no matter what they tried, the only solution they could some up with was to build large, self-contained towers completely shut off from the outside world. Food was grown, and people were slowly moved inside them. Only a small fraction of the remaining populace could be saved, and these lucky few were chosen via a cruel lottery. Families torn apart by the lottery knew they would never see each other again.
Those who entered these sanctuaries - "Eden Halls", as World One called them, left the outside world behind. Those left behind lived with the knowledge that they have been abandoned - left to die. Eden Halls regularly exported food to the outside world, but beyond that, there was to be no contact at all. Even the shipments are handled by automatons.
One year later, a small time inventor on the outside, stricken by lung cancer and a number of other maladies invented a mask. This mask acted as a gas-mask of sorts. It resembled your run-of-the-mill porcelain mask, and it was capable of filtering out almost 90% of the miasma in the atmosphere, allowing its wearer to breathe with relative ease. Though it could not save him from his fate, this breakthrough made this dying man the hero and king of a dying world. Almost overnight, people traded their individuality for a chance to live, and people clung to this small sliver of hope. Since then, every baby born was given a mask straight away, and as years passed, removing one's mask became synonymous to a death wish.
I know I sound like a chapter out of a textbook, and that I'm simply spewing common knowledge, but please bear with me. I simply wish for us to be on the same page, after all.
Even after humanity traded that precious individuality that made us different from mere ants for the right to live, it seems the world was not done making our lives harsh. Wildlife more fit than humanity adjusted at an alarming rate to the deteriorating atmosphere. Thankfully plant life adjusted relatively quickly and continued to pump the air full of oxygen - that small aspect of life remained unchanged. The miasma, however damaging to the lungs was determined to not be water-soluble, so most sources of drinking water remained safe. What changed was that 99% of the world's mammals, birds, and genetically complex creatures died off. Almost exclusively, insects and fish were all that remained. Fish don't matter, though. Most things that live in the water were not affected. It's the insects... They mutated at an almost disturbing rate, filling in the empty niches left by larger predators in a desperate genetic arms-race to be at the top of the food chain. In 30 years, previously harmless beetles and wasps grew to monstrous sizes, and there was little we could do to fight them. The masks severely limited airflow, so strenuous activity such as fighting would often end with accidental asphyxiation due to the lack of air.
When the situation became all too dire, once again, a desperate chance presented itself. As it turns out, out of all the children born into the world, there was a .0005% chance that they were born with an innate ability for their blood to filter out the miasma mixed in with the air. This was discovered accidentally, and was easy enough to test for with a quick blood-test. Everyone was tested for this genetic anomaly, and those found to possess it were forcefully drafted into a task force aptly named "Vis" - those with faces.
Yes, I am one of the Vis. I defend this world stuck in a perpetual, aimless masquerade. We put our lives on the line so that others might enjoy their joyless lives in peace. Ah - no offense of course. I'm not saying my life is much happier than yours. It's really not. I am, after all, only mortal. Every mission, there is the chance that at least one of us may end up mangled beyond recognition.
Ah, I guess I could tell you a little more about myself, and about the Vis, since most people don't know too much about us. I was "discovered" when I was 6 - 14 years ago, and was drafted immediately into the Vis. The period in-between, I did most things a normal kid would do. I went to school, learned, but on top of that, I had extremely rigorous military training. I officially became a member of the Vis when I was 18, and was made the lieutenant of my unit only a few months ago.
You're probably wondering what the heck kind of parents would let their kid be trained as an glorified pest exterminator, right? Well my parents are pretty average. They're still alive, yes. They still baby me whenever I see them. They're good parents, really. They love me, they worry about me, they fuss over me whenever I get an injury, no matter how small. I'm very lucky to have them. It's odd though, for me to live in a world where I know most of my acquaintances by face, but to have never seen my own parents' faces before. Honestly, when they found out I had the ability to resist the miasma, they were both ready to kill the person who announced my blood test results, haha. I still remember how angry my father was that they were going to take me away. Turns out, though, that we were only away from home for about a month to learn about what a Vis was. Then it was life more-or-less like normal until the end of high school.
In my squad, I'm an explosives technician. I'm also adept at close-range weaponry - mostly knives. Squad 1, the squad I'm in, is the advance squad. We're not usually dispatched during dire situations where, say, one of the bugzillas are attacking a city, but rather before things get quite so bad, to take out nests that have come too dangerously close to civilization. We're only 5 people large, and we rely primarily on flamethrowers and explosives. "Kill them with fire", so to speak.
My job isn't nearly as dangerous as say Squad 6 or Squad 14, who fight mano-a-mano with the creatures. Sometimes, those guys come back so badly mangled, it seems almost a crime not to simply put them out of their misery - but alas, every last one of us is valuable, no matter how battered.
Just between us, I've heard they might transfer me to Squad 23, since they just lost their captain and need someone capable to take over. I would really prefer it not be me, though. 23's often called the "Suicide Squad". Well, the proper name's the Emergency Dispatch Squad - not that it sounds any better. Needless to say, it's about as fun a job as the name suggests.
But regardless of the dangers, I think I prefer my world - a world with faces.
Life seems much more honest this way.
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We've hit the point of no return long ago - nothing to do now except to keep walking forward.
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Arts
Headshot by me
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Boxed Nighmare June 27, 2011~
Won Pet Spotlight December, 2012! Thank you guys ; w ;
Revelry
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