MALEFICUS: ENTRY THREE

WILDLY KRAZY Sep 4, 2018 0

ENTRY THREE; 01:11; REVELATIONS—RED, MISSOURI—KRAZED INDUSTRIES HEADQUARTERS.

September 4, 2018 [WILDLY KRAZY]—"Dicks up! Dicks up!" HOTSAUCE screamed, as he walked past our tents.

Used as a wakeup call among Guardians, 'Dicks up' referred to morning woods young men often had every morning… Yes, female Guardians woke up to the 'Dicks up' call, too… I mean, what is a good wakeup call for women? Wet pussies?

"You’re late, bitch! It's 0510!" I heard JOKER scream at HOTSAUCE.

Tall and muscular, JOKER valued chow time; in fact, I honestly think JOKER valued chow more than he did pussy…

Following right behind HOTSAUCE, two low-rank Martians entered our tents, laying down a tray of biscuits and gravy, along with a bowl of fruit, and a glass of orange juice.

"You eating, fucker?" SPADE asked me through the nylon wall.

"Fuck no—I have my alarm set for 1000. The fucking sun isn't up yet…" I replied.

"Can I have your chow?" SPADE asked.

"Knock yourself out," I replied back.

"Hey! Hand me KRAZED's chow—he said I could have it," SPADE screamed through the nylon walls, informing the Martians.

As a night owl, I hated mornings with a passion; thus, I hated breakfast, too. Personally, if I ate it, breakfast made me even more tired, causing me to feel slow and sluggish for the rest of the day.

Typically, I did not eat until around 1500 in the afternoon, and I did not hit the bed until around 0500. Therefore, while Guardians were awakened with screams of 'dicks up,' I was going to bed, under my normal routine.

"Hey, what were those names all about?" SIX asked through the nylon wall.

"I needed their blood type," I replied, trying to fall back asleep.

"What's up with their blood?" SIX asked.

"What's your blood type?" I asked SIX.

In all honesty, I did not want to scare the living shit out of everyone, especially those that did not have O-blood type; thus, I decided to keep it on the low, and before I informed SIX, I needed to ensure he was an O-type before I got into the details with him.

"O negative… Why?" SIX asked.

"Do you have your Spark on you?" I asked SIX.

"Ya, why?" SIX asked.

"I'm sending you a text," I informed SIX.

"Kill," SIX replied.

"My fucking back is killing me! How the fuck do people lay on this shit?" DUKE yelled through the nylon walls, talking about the portable ward beds we slept on.

Compact and portable, the 1-inch aluminum frame tubing jabbed through the 4-inch red mattress—which was also stiff and uncomfortable as hell—engendering a sleepless night. Personally, the damn beds gave me a headache and a backache, too, while the rock-hard pillow gave me a stiff neck.

Adding to the misery, it was already a humid, summer morning, as I could feel the heat and humidity bake my skin, while the sweat pooled between my ass cheeks, creating swamp ass.

Nevertheless, the birds ignored and had zero fucks concerning our misery, as they chirped their morning song, warning the world to the sunrise peaking over the horizon that created a dark-blue, pinkish landscape.

Meanwhile, strong and intense winds blew up against our tents, forcing the nylon walls to flap and flutter to an irregular dance, while the wind whistled through the chain-link fence, engendering a jangle and clangorous metallic rhythm of metal clanging against metal.

Reminding us that autumn fast approached, the August morning offered us an appeal of psithurism, the sound of rustling leaves and the whispers of wind forcing its way through the trees.

However, autumn had to wait, because today's temperature, according to my Spark, showed a forecast of a high of 93-degrees, with a slight chance of rain late at night.

For sure, we were in for a long 7-day quarantine, especially among men who had 'attention deficit hyperactivity disorder [ADHD],' and a primitive, juvenile mind that constantly thought about dicks, pussy, ass, chow, and killing.

"Who over there has sand in their pussy?" I heard JOKER scream and ask.

"Fuck you, bitch! Not everyone is used to sitting on hard things," DUKE screamed, being a smart ass.

"I'll give you something hard, bitch-tits," JOKER shouted through the nylon walls.

"I prefer big dicks, faggot," DUKE screamed through the nylon walls.

"It's not what your girl said, bro," JOKER screamed through the nylon walls.

"My girl is cock hungry; she likes all types of dicks, even micro-dicks, such as yourself," DUKE screamed, talking to JOKER.

"Can we please stop talking about dicks?" SPADE shouted.

"Where the fuck is our clothes?" SPADE asked.

"Tank-top and shorts come at 0600 when they pick up the chow," I informed SPADE, as I typed to SIX, via the Spark.

As I typed the message to SIX, the clan's constant bitching and moaning reminded me of a noisy prison, where prisoners would shout and talk to each other through their cell doors.

Loud and obnoxious, the clan's arguing and shit-talk at-least drowned out the abhorrent sound of the annoying chirping birds.

"I have Intel that shows the SIN Virus only attacking and killing those without O-blood type," I texted to SIX, via the Spark.

"Don't tell anyone within the clan, or outside of the clan, though. What are your thoughts?" I quickly texted SIX.

"They've fucking declared Martial Law!" SPADE said, screaming through the nylon wall, causing me to jump.

"The United States?" JOKER asked.

"Ya, man! Check your Spark—it's all over WILD N' KRAZY. The fucking president declared Martial Law just now," SPADE informed JOKER.

"They lost control," I informed the team.

"They lost control and the virus hasn't even appeared in North America yet… They cannot control the panic among the populace," I informed the team, through the nylon walls.

"Good luck trying to enforce Martial Law in the South and Midwest, though. The government and country is fucked," I said.

Shortly after saying that, everyone went silent, until JOKER broke the silence with music from his Spark.

Having a fuck off attitude, JOKER never let the idea of chaos and death reach his head; thus, JOKER did everything he could to constantly tune out from reality to ensure he controlled his situation, which is something the Millennial Teachings taught.

"I'm getting drunk the minute I get the fuck out of here, along with some ass!" JOKER screamed through the tents, trying to motivate the clan, as his music blared and clamored through the nylon walls.

"It's on the house, too!" I informed the team, trying to remove the doom and gloom from their thoughts.

"Fuck ya!" JOKER screamed through the nylon walls.

While designing Red Republic, or simply Red, around the 'Millennial Teachings,' I ensured the city showcased some of the largest brand names in entertainment, fashion, and art, along with the tastiest, and healthiest food in the world, without genetically modified foods and crops, or hormones and antibiotics.

Thus, I opened a nightclub within Red, called "Passion Red," which sat on the northern tip of "Freedom River," offering the best drinks and entertainment around.

While featuring young girls—mostly college girls—who served endless drinks, wearing just a red bikini top and white bikini bottoms to guests and partiers, millions of people, especially the wealthy, came from around the world, per year, just to visit and experience Passion Red, and its sexy ass waitresses and music.

Considered among many as a high-end nightclub, Passion Red also featured Villas that customers could rent for a single night, or however long they desired. Of course, all Villas sat along, and wrapped around the Freedom River, too; thus, guests and partiers had the freedom to both swim and drink, and when they were done, they could simply swim over to their Villas for the night.

All Passion Red Villas were, like all buildings in Red, Missouri, constructed out of reinforced white concrete, while a 7-foot-high concrete wall wrapped around and surrounded the Villas, ensuring privacy, if so desired.

Surrounding the Villa walls, Red Blaze Maple trees also shaded the Villa, while climbing red rose bushes covered the Villa walls, providing great scenery, and even more privacy.

Nevertheless, most guests and partiers gathered in large groups within the "river," drinking, socializing, and dancing to the live DJ music, while at night, red string lights strung across the "river" from Red Blaze Maples trees on both sides of the "river."

During the night, anyone under 18-years-of-age was prohibited from swimming in the four "rivers," because at that time, there were zero pool rules; if you know what I mean.

Freedom River, like the other three rivers—Liberty, Peace, and Millennial—were giant swimming pools that stretched 300-yards, while providing 30-yards of width for swimming. Stretching through the entire length of Paradise Park, all four rivers eventually converged into one, large swimming pool.

During the summer times, thousands of guests and vacationers swam in the rivers, while thousands more walked through Paradise Park, and over four concrete bridges that spanned over all four rivers.

With a width of 12-feet, each bridge featured four Greek Gods—one God at each corner of the bridge—in different poses—wielding shields, spears, and the falcata sword.

At the end of the four rivers, where all four converged into one, sat the classical Greek-style temple, called 'Millennial Temple,' which honored humanity inside Paradise Park.

With a polished agatha black granite staircase emerging out of the water, all guests were able to leave the swimming pool and hangout within the temple that featured polished agatha black granite benches where guests from around the world could sit and socialize.

Of course, eight Defenders constantly provided security to the temple, too, 24-hours a day, 7-days a week.

At the foot of the staircase that led from the pool to the Millennial Temple, stood two 19-foot tall concrete Greek-style naked Goddesses that resembled the Aquarius zodiac sign.

Standing there in a slight bend, water from the pools poured out of both Goddesses' water vases. In addition to those two, twelve more Water Goddesses—three Water Goddesses to each river—stood alongside the rivers, pouring water out of their water vases, creating waterfalls throughout the "rivers" for swimmers.

Designed out of white concrete, Millennial Temple had a square design, with a 30-foot ceiling held up by 30-square-columns on each side, with 30 Greek Gods and Goddesses standing in front of each column, in 30 different poses. With a total length of 300-feet, the temple's floors dominated in a polished agatha black granite.

Inside Millennial Temple, stood the 19-foot high, white concrete statue, called "Destiny."

Designed to mimic a classical Greek-style Goddess, while wearing a peplos, Destiny held a falcata sword at her right side, while holding a rose in the air with her left hand.

Chiseled into the concrete, the phrase, "Peace through Valor" sat under her feet, reminding the world that peace only comes through strength.

Shading the rivers, dozens upon dozens of rose bushes and Red Blaze Maple trees stretched along each "river," while guests and Freemen swam in the five-foot-deep, crystal clear water.

Meanwhile, at the head of each "river," at the northern tip, major hotel brands provided rooms for world travelers and vacationers, while KRAZED Industries', through the "Krazee Kause Foundation," provided free hotel rooms at the "Krazee Haven Hotel" for all children within orphanages, and-or child charities and organizations.

Within Red, Missouri, each district consisted of a "central park", that grew nothing but Silver Maple, Red Oak, Eastern Redbud, and fruit-bearing trees, which were apple, cherry, plum, peach, and pear trees.

Understand, Red, Missouri formed a giant city that consisted of three districts, with each district separated by a 7-mile road, all of which sat along the Missouri River, between Saint Joseph, and Kansas City, Missouri, between the Missouri, Mississippi, Ohio, Des Moines, and Platte Rivers.

Respectfully, the district names within Red, Missouri were the Apex, Millennial, and Freemen Districts; and within each district, four Havens provided housing for 12,000 citizens, with a total of twelve Havens within Red, Missouri.

Therefore, per district, there were 48,000 Freemen, who lived in a private community; however, instead of gates, all Havens were surrounded and protected by an 11-foot-high, white concrete wall, while the rest of the city, such as businesses, restaurants, hotels, etc, surrounded the Havens.

Notably, all twelve Havens individually named, too. Aries, Taurus, Gemini, and Cancer Havens dominated in the Freemen Districts, while Leo, Virgo, Libra, and Scorpio Havens resided in the Apex District. Meanwhile, Sagittarius, Capricorn, Aquarius and Pisces Havens found their home in the Millennial District.

Of course, the zodiac names given to the Havens represented humanity, living together as one...as equals...poor living with the wealthy.

For better understanding and clarification, Paradise Park, Passion Red, Millennial Temple, and the four "rivers" were located in the Millennial District, while my house also sat in the Millennial District in the Aquarius Haven. Of course, I chose Aquarius because that is my Sun sign.

Among Freemen, they considered Apex District as the food and entertainment district, while they considered Millennial District as the political district, for the simple fact the Covenant of Freemen and the Assembly of Freemen buildings resided within that district.

While employed as Guardians, all Guardians received free housing within an Eden [ apartment style building].

Although all buildings in Red were constructed out of steel and reinforced white concrete, there were, however, only four architectural style homes allowed within the city: Eden, Urban, Luxury, and the Villas.

Eden were the cheapest, as they resembled apartments, except more modern and built extremely well. Villas, on the other hand, were the most expensive, as they were the only homes, besides the Luxury homes, that featured a 9-foot privacy wall that surrounded the entire house, along with security gates, shatter-resistant windows, and a safe-room within the basement, along with a swimming pool.

While the Villa featured a three-story design, the Luxury was a two-story design, with the same features as the Villa.

Considered the "middle class home," the Urban style home housed the majority of the citizens, as it also featured a 9-foot privacy wall that surrounded the entire house, along with security gates, but without the swimming pool, and a safe-room. In addition, the Urban style home was smaller in comparison to the Luxury and Villa, because the Urban utilized a one-story design.

Nevertheless, all buildings and houses were designed to last for centuries, while designed to protect its inhabitants.

Outside Red, Missouri, we did not build churches; instead, under the Krazee Kause Foundation, we built Havens. Havens were a sanctuary for teens and young adults—a place that they could escape, find protection, shelter, showers and clothing—a place where teens and young adults could hangout, exercise, sleep, study, get off of the streets, and stay out of trouble and away from drugs and crime.

Thus, in all honesty, Havens allowed us to recruit young-adults from the streets and into the Guardian program. You see, anyone 16-years-of-age or older were allowed to join the Guardian program, working and receiving a paycheck, and a place to live.

As Freemen and Guardians, we focused our efforts and resources towards helping and serving humanity; plain and simple. Therefore, we were an organization designed to help humanity in humanitarian crises, famines, natural and manmade disasters, such as flooding, tornadoes, earthquakes, and also designed to help refugees during war-torn conflicts.

As Guardians, we desired the advancement of humanity into the Millennial Age, while constantly working to unlock and solve the mysteries of life, such as our past and existence as a species through the "Revelations" program, a program that did not officially exist, and consequently, funded by government 'black money.'

You see, under the Revelations program, we had many questions, but few answers: who were we, as humans, and what were our purposes? As humans, what are our limitations, or do we, as humans, even have limitations?

Where, as humans, did we come from?

Using some of the greatest minds, engineers and scientists in the world, we wanted to know if our world was real, or if it was fake. Is reality real, or is it just a figment of our imagination? Do we, as humans, live in a simulation created by a creator? Perhaps, we are the creators, creating a fake world through our own minds and imagination…like a dream world…

Under the "Revelations" program, we set out to advance humanity into an age of new spiritual understandings and scientific advancements, while researching medicine that would, hopefully, someday, conquer and eliminate all diseases and cancers. In addition, we sought, through DNA coding and DNA vaccines, to advance and improve the human body by eliminating natural aging and death.

Why eliminate, or prolong natural death? Why not? Imagine the scientific advancements a great mind, such as Nikola Tesla, would bring to humanity after hundreds of years of experience, knowledge and learning…

Of course, this idea had its problems, too. Imagine a species that did not die until hundreds of years later. Yes, we would overpopulate, eventually dying from disease, war and-or famine.

Perhaps, because of overpopulation, we have unintentionally, or perhaps intentionally, created the perfect virus that will eventually wipe out most of our species, due to the fact we were so global and openly connected… Never in the history of humanity have we ever been able to travel the world so easily, within a matter of hours. Consequently, I fear, we might have doomed ourselves as a result of our desires of globalization, and as a result, allowed the SIN Virus to spread so fast, and so easily from country to country.

Nevertheless, how can something as mundane, simple and microscopic as the SIN Virus destroy a species, and if we were created by a creator, then why did our creator create viruses in the first place?

Perhaps, viruses bring order to the world, eliminating the weak from the strong, creating a stronger species that has a better chance of surviving and thriving?

Who or what created humanity, and how was it done?

If there was a creator, who created the creator?

Perhaps our creator is not the only creator?

Perhaps the ancients and their Polytheism beliefs were not full of shit after all?

I had a problem with the idea of gods, though, because I did not worship or kneel to anyone or anything, especially gods… Perhaps, though, my own skepticism and disapproval blinds my beliefs in gods?

Perhaps, as the religious community suggests, the SIN Virus is god's punishment upon humanity, just like he punished the world through the biblical flood?

If so, he is not a god I would have ever worshiped in the first place; I'd rather die than live on my knees. I mean, what kind of psychopath demands worship?

Perhaps, though, there is not a god, but instead, creation is merely chaos that created everything in existence through random accidents?

"The SIN Virus reminds me of malaria… It almost behaves the same way, and if what you say is correct, O-blood type is the key to creating a vaccine," SIX texted me, via his Spark.

"Elaborate," I replied, via a text.

"Usually, people with O-blood type are protected from dying of severe malaria, because the parasite cannot bond to the O-blood type, as it does with the other blood types. Therefore, those with other types, such as A, usually die from malaria, while O-blood type fights off the parasite," SIX informed me, via a text.

"But malaria still infects O-blood type," I texted SIX in confusion.

"Yes, but the two's behavior resemble one another," SIX insisted.

"If the O-blood type has the ability to defend against the SIN Virus, then we have found the virus' weakness; and through its weakness, we might have stumbled upon the first clue to a vaccine, or at-least, preventive care," SIX suggested, via text.

"If anything, though, I believe we are witnessing the evolution of a species—not the death," SIX suggested, via text.

"I'm paying attention," I informed SIX.

"There were several things I noticed back in Athens: all Sinners were young and in great, psychical shape, while everyone else died from the virus. The second thing, they seemed to communicate and cooperate as a team through vocals, suggesting intelligence. The third thing, which is quite obvious, but very striking, all Sinners were faster and stronger than humans," SIX texted.

"I see where you're coming from…" I texted SIX.

"Name some weaknesses that you saw within the Sinners," I told SIX, via a text on the Spark.

"There were very few LOL, but noise….they were attracted to noise," SIX texted back.

"You're suggesting ambushes?" I asked SIX.

"I'm suggesting alarm devices strapped to C4 and pipe bombs LOL," SIX replied.

"Fear, man. They were fucking fearless, which is another weakness, and yes, using their fear to set up ambushes," SIX replied, via a text.

"Thanks, Blood! I'm going to go take a shower, and rub one out. I'll talk to you in a little bit, Krazee," I texted SIX.

"I've already did that six times… It gets boring in here as medical prisoners LOL," SIX texted back.

"Send me a list of badass names for a new Pride," I texted SIX, as I turned on the water.

"You starting a new one?" SIX texted back.

"Fucky [Fuck Yes]," I replied.

"Are you interested?" I texted and asked SIX.

"Fucky," SIX replied.

"Kill; send me a list," I texted.

"Wilco," SIX replied.

Small and cramped, the tiny shower damn near gave me Claustrophobia, while the water came directly from a damn hose; thus, the water froze my balls and threw my body into shock, stealing the breath from my lungs.

After a few seconds of braving the cold water, though, my body adjusted to the shock, while I scrubbed using my hand and plain water, because we did not have soap yet.

"Goddamn corn! You chew and chew that shit, and it still comes out whole!" SPADE shouted through the nylon walls.

"It's fucking magical food!" KID shouted through the nylon walls.

"I can't stop shitting. I've shit three times this morning," SPADE informed everyone through the nylon walls.

"I'm trying to masturbate; you're fucking up my concentration!" I shouted from within the shower.

"Anal sex, son! It's just like anal sex," SPADE shouted through the nylon walls.

"Just like licking butt-hole!" JOKER shouted.

"Who the fuck licks asshole?! That shit is gross!" SPADE shot back.

"But anal sex isn't?" JOKER asked in confusion.

"No, because I'm not lapping up a hole where digested corn and diarrhea shoot out!" SPADE shouted.

"You don't lick your girl's butt-hole?" I asked SPADE from within the shower, after I gave up the idea of beating off, due to the cold water and the picture of corn infused diarrhea that haunted my brain.

"Fuck no!" SPADE shot back.

"After quarantine, I'm going to sneak over at your place and lick your girl's shit-hole; and she's going to fall in love!" I shouted from the shower.

"My girl's butt-hole is hairy, bro," SPADE informed me.

"That's because your girl is an uncover dude. I knew you were a faggot," DUKE shouted from his tent.

"Well, I know for a fact, because you admitted to SMOKE, that you shave your asshole completely bald, so I assuming that makes you a transsexual," SPADE informed DUKE.

"No—I shave to avoid dingle-berries, and heat rashes," DUKE informed SPADE.

"Speaking of SMOKE… Where the fuck is SMOKE and BLACK? I haven't heard anything from those fuckers since we got here," DUKE informed the clan.

"SMOKE, DUKE—what the fuck you black motherfuckers been doing?" SPADE shouted through the nylon walls.

"I'm fucking trying to sleep; I have a damn migraine," SMOKE shouted through the nylon walls.

"You alright, Blood?" KID asked.

"Ya, just this headache, and the damn heat… I'm burning up with cold sweats. I'm ready to get the fuck out of here," SMOKE informed the clan.

"Where's BLACK?" DUKE asked SMOKE.

"He said he was taking a nap, too, because he had a headache from the heat, as well," SMOKE informed DUKE.

"Kill. Next time the Martians come around, ask for some headache medicine," DUKE suggested.

"They already gave us some, and suggested we took a nap, and relaxed. They supposed to bring some fans with the clothes at 0600," SMOKE said.

"Right on; get some rest," DUKE shouted through the nylon walls.

"Spartacus, bring up the latest news on the SIN Virus," I said, as I dried off with a towel.

"Wilco," Spartacus replied with a robotic, monotone voice.

After drying off, I threw the wet towel over to the corner of the tent and onto the ground, and then I picked up my Spark, checking the latest news.

"Stock markets crash."

"Major blackout along the west coast, leaving California, Oregon, Washington, and parts of Nevada without power."

"Mexico reports its first case of the SIN Virus."

"Several Mexicans found dead, infected with the SIN Virus in Mexico City, Mexico."

"National Guard units deploy to America's major cities."

"First Marine Division ordered to the United States-Mexican border."

"Liberal activists and some Democrats demand the southern border stay open, to ensure Mexicans have the ability to flee the SIN Virus that continues to spread within Mexico."

"Evangelicals say Judgment Day has arrived; Jesus expected to return soon."

"Republican lawmakers suggest nuking infected cities."

"Australia and New Zealand quarantine their island nations."

"Indian Prime Minister dies from the SIN Virus, while millions of bodies litter New Delhi."

"Millions dead in Poland, as the Polish military struggles to combat the infected."

"Italian President not seen in days, as the Pope flees to the United States under a diplomatic agreement."

After a few seconds of scanning news headlines, my wife interrupts with a text message.

"Have you heard anything yet? Have they done blood work?" my wife asked, via the Spark.

"No, they do vitals and blood work at 0900," I replied, informing my wife.

"There are a lot of people freaking out over the virus. Riots in Kansas City and St Joseph, and buildings burnt to the ground," my wife texted.

"Yes, weak minded people, along with the fear of death will do that," I replied.

"What are they supposed to do? The grocery stores are empty, and everyone is running out of food and water," my wife texted back.

"Sounds like a first-world problem to me," I texted back.

"Quit watching the news, because you'll continue to freak yourself out. We're fine in Red; I mean, we have fucking Guardians," I replied.

"How's the kids?" I texted and asked.

"Fine. Will they still start school next week?" she asked.

"Red will operate like normal," I ensured my wife.

"Okay," she replied.

At that moment, Calix popped into my mind… I wondered how he faired with the surgery, and I still worried about his blood type. Seconds later, FROST invaded my mind, again. His death, and the way we left him, continued to haunt my mind, and I honestly think he would continue to haunt me until I brought his body back to Red, where he belonged.

I still, too, feared the idea of confronting his wife and family, because of the way we executed the mission of not properly cremating the body.

Just then, two male Martians in CBRN [chemical, biological, radiological, nuclear] masks, and coyote-tan CBRN suits came around, handing out clothes. After asking for my sizes, they handed over three pairs of athletic shorts, tank tops, and sandals, along with toothpaste, a disposable tooth brush, deodorant, a few bottles of water, and a floor-fan to help cool us down.

After they left, they zipped up the entrance door, leaving me behind in a nylon prison.

All entrances to the decontamination rooms sealed with a zippered, nylon door; thus, we could not see out of our rooms, and no one could see inside. In addition to that, in order to minimize exposure, Martians only checked on us during chow, and during vitals.

A few seconds later, I hear a Martian shouting over his radio, "10-40; quarantine."

Of course, 10-40 meant "medial emergency."

Seconds later, the sound of Raider engines and tires pierced through the nylon walls, as running boots echoed off the airstrip.

"What the fuck is going on?!" SPADE shouted and asked.

"What the fuck?! They're infected?!" KID shouted through the nylon walls.

If my fears were correct, then the virus attacks the body with incredible speed, pretty much out of nowhere, without any signs of infection.

According to the Intel I received from the CIA agent, "the SIN Virus spreads quickly and easily, and it mutates just as fast, allowing the virus to easily infect and spread. Moreover, a person can carry and transmit the SIN Virus for many weeks before any symptoms show themselves, while also contagious for many months or more before any visible signs of disease become apparent."

"Within three days after infection of the respiratory system, the infected person can infect dozens of people without any significant symptoms or signs of illness for weeks to months on end, which, in return, infecting dozens more, and so on, allowing the SIN Virus to spread and infect very silently and quickly to countless amount of hosts, undetected."

However, the following sentence via the Intel report intrigues the most…

"The SIN Virus seems "extraterrestrial" in nature and "intelligently designed"—designed to kill, and cause species extinction. The virus seems "too perfect" and "well-designed" to originate from nature.

What the hell was she hinting at? Perhaps, this virus originated as a biological weapon, created by a government program?

If it originated as a biological weapon, which makes perfect sense, because of the Great War against China, then what desperate nation unleashed the virus within China?

Right away, after thinking back at what SMOKE said about having a headache and cold sweats, I knew the cause for the emergency.

More than likely, SMOKE and BLACK had fell into a coma from the virus, just the same as Calix's mother back in Athens.

"Stay in your fucking tents!" a Martian screamed.

"Everyone stay the fuck in the tents!" I shouted, and ordered.

"No one leave the fucking tents!" DUKE ordered.

"I need two fucking stretchers!" I heard GUNNER shout, commanding his Martians.

"IDs?!" I heard another Martian scream and ask.

"SMOKE and BLACK," GUNNER informed his Martian.

From this point on, according to decon, the Martians would take SMOKE and BLACK to the city morgue, ensuring they did not become carriers…Sinners.

Within a few minutes, I saw several shadows, including two shadows of stretchers, cross right in front of my nylon, zipped door, informing me of the situation.

"God damn it, man! Two more fucking REAPER!" DUKE shouted to himself, out-loud for everyone to hear.

"Does that mean we're good to go? If we were infected, shouldn't we have been like SMOKE and BLACK?" KID asked.

"What's your blood type?" I asked KID, hesitantly.

"O-positive; why?" KID asked in a confused voice.

"Hold on—let me grab my Spark…" I said.

"Spartacus, take notes!" I shouted to my Spark.

"Ready when you are," Spartacus replied through the Spark.

"Okay, one by one, everyone call out their name and blood type," I ordered the clan.

"Duke; O-positive," DUKE stated.

"Spade; O-positive," SPADE stated.

"KID; O-positive," KID said.

"JOKER; O-positive," JOKER informed.

"HERMES; O-positive," HERMES stated.

"I know SIX's… He's O-Negative," I said.

"List complete," Spartacus said.

"Thanks, killer," I replied to Spartacus.

"What the fuck does all of that mean?" SPADE asked.

"It means that we're good-to-go. We do not have the virus," I informed the clan.

"What makes you so sure?" DUKE asked through the nylon walls.

"Not a single O-person has died from infection. It seems O-blood type cannot die from the virus," I informed DUKE.

"Then we're carriers, right?" KID asked.

"If we were carriers, we'd be Sinners," I informed KID, just right when two Martians entered my room.

"Hello, KRAZED—I need blood from you," the female Martian said, while the second Martian blocked the doorway, standing in the sling-ready position, ensuring I did not attack or try to escape.

"Hey, love—how's it going?" I asked Ella, the Apex Delta Martian.

I personally knew Ella, and talked to her quite often. You see, Ella wanted to leave MARS and come work within the Revelation program as a medical researcher. Of course, I told her she had a job waiting on her after she finished her fifth year in MARS.

Under law, anyone that lived within Red must serve under the Guardian program for at-least two years as a Defender. Freemen also had the option of enlisting as a Martian, signing a four-year contract.

REAPERs, however, were a little different, because in order to qualify for REAPER STRESS [Security Tactics, Resistance, Evacuation, Sabotage, and Survival] school, a Freeman needed to serve four years as a Defender or Martian; and upon successfully completely a year of STRESS school, they then needed to successfully complete six months of RAID [Rapid Assault Infiltration and Defense] school. Upon completing a year and a half of extra training, a REAPER then signed a two year contract.

I, however, passed my two years within REAPER about four years ago.

Upon receiving their discharge papers, every Freeman took home their rifle, Kukri, and Tomahawk, ensuring a highly trained, armed society within Red, Missouri.

Moreover, if a Freeman served five years as a Guardian, all college classes at the Freemen University were free of charge. Thus, Ella ensured she served her five years, in order to become the Nanotechnologist she always wanted to become, working within KRAZED Industries' Revelations program.

Standing at 5-foot, 9-inches, Ella was a 21-year-old sexy brunette British girl from London that joined the Guardian program in order to attend Freemen University, free of charge.

Upon becoming a Martian, after three years of training, every Martian chose their deployment station; thus, Ella chose Red, Missouri, out of reasons I do not know.

"Okay, I guess," Ella replied.

"Long day?" I asked.

"13-hours," Ella replied.

"You guys are 3-hours early for the blood work," I informed Ella.

"Ya, GUNNER gave the order after two of your Bloods comatose. I guess GUNNER wanted to make sure they were the only two," Ella replied from within her CBRN suit and mask, as she cleaned my arm with an alcohol wipe, while holding the needle.

"GUNNER knows his shit, though, and he's on top of things," I ensured Ella.

"Ya, sometimes too much," Ella informed me, as she stuck me with the needle.

"You don't like this job much, do you?" I asked Ella.

"It's okay, but I'd rather be in research, instead," Ella said, as she cleaned and wiped blood from my arm.

"What do you fuckers know about the virus thus far?" I asked Ella, trying to pick her brain of information; something I did quite often, in order to understand a person.

"Today Doctor Delzer ordered an emergency meeting with the quarantine team. Doctor Delzer found a pattern among the infected," Ella said.

"Zero infections among O-type," I said, confidently, cutting Ella off from her sentence.

"No, not quite. More than likely, you are all infected," Ella informed.

"Every single person from the first Hercules were infected; however, after 4-days of infection, those with O-blood were free from infection, while everyone else comatose several days earlier, unable to fight the virus," Ella informed.

"Four days…" I said to myself, talking out loud.

"Yes, 4-days," Ella reassured me.

"That crazy bastard is a genius," I said.

"Who?" asked Ella.

"Doctor Delzer—he is the fucker that suggested 7-days of quarantine," I informed Ella.

"Yes, he is damn good at what he does," Ella suggested.

"Ya, I know—I am the one that hired and brought his ass from Germany, in order to train the Martians," I informed Ella.

Ever since I can remember, I have always had a passion for weapons, war, and helping and rescuing people; thus, I have always had a passion for the military and medical industries. However, I am an adventurous guy that is addicted to adrenaline and risk; therefore, I am always looking for my next fix for a daring adventure, so the thought of sitting through damn near a decade of medical school scared the shit out of me.

Without questioning, I knew I did not have the focus to sit through ten-years of study and book work. However, one day, I said to myself, "why not combine the two industries together?"

I asked myself, "why not create a global team that provides humanitarian and medical relief for refugees in war-torn countries?"

"Why not expand upon that idea and create a team that rescues people from combat and natural disasters," I asked myself.

Thus, I decided to create the Guardian program, but I needed trained medical professionals to train the Martians; therefore, I hired from around the world, seeking medical professionals within numerous fields, especially surgery and combat medicine. Obviously, Doctor Delzer, a blood specialist, was among the first.

Meanwhile, myself and a team of former Marines and military personal trained the Martians in combat tactics. From there, through government contracts, we expanded into a huge operation, creating the Defenders, and then the REAPER.

"How is the first team doing now?" I asked Ella, referring to the other quarantined Guardians and Freemen.

"Free of infection, and ready to leave quarantine," Ella ensured.

At the other end of the airstrip, the first Hercules crew awaited their release from quarantine, as well.

"I tell you what, love—take my Spark and charge it for an hour, and then bring it back, along with a Spark pen so I can draw and doodle, and then I will offer you a job, getting you the fuck out of here, and into research," I ensured Ella.

"I still have a year left, before I can leave," Ella reminded.

"I am creating a new pride, and I am going to need Martians that will help me research and find a cure for the virus; therefore, you will still finish your last year as a Martian, but under my command. After the year is up, you will have a job waiting on you within the Revelations program," I informed Ella.

"And a charged Spark and pen is the only requirement to join the new pride?" Ella asked in confusion.

"Yes… Is that a fucky?" I asked Ella.

"Fucky," Ella replied.

"Kill. I'll see you in an hour with a charged Spark and its pen," I reminded Ella, as I handed her my Spark.

"Roger," Ella said, as she smiled and walked out of my nylon, depressing room.

For the next hour, I tried to kill time, as I did 200 pushups, and daydreamed in front of the floor-fan, as I sat on the hard, uncomfortable medical bed, sweating my ass off in the August summer heat.

Evidently, the heat was too much for the birds as well, because their annoying chirps ceased, and for once, the damn quarantine area was dead-silent, too. Thankfully, the clan decided to either take a nap, or socialize with fuckers via their Sparks.

Once again, the image of FROST's burnt and charred body haunted my mind, and then the Athen's mission replayed through my brain, as I took mental notes of the memories, like an investigator searching through murder clues.

Strikingly, I remember the way the Sinners' muscles flexed and protruded through their skin, as if they were Olympic weight lifters. Their adrenaline…their speed…their strength…incredible… FROST did not stand a fighting chance, either, once those bastards took grip, because they flung him around like a pit-bull attacking a stuffed animal.

Moreover, there was another oddity I particularly noticed during the Athen's mission: Sinner screams are a high-pitched sound—sounding that of a pig in distress—that seemed to alert the hunting pack. Meanwhile, their normal communication and chatter sounded that of a pack of hyenas—barking, grunting, growling, giggling, and the occasional, long-manic, whooping sounds.

"SPADE," I shouted through the nylon wall, trying to get his attention.

"Talk to me, sweet-cheeks," SPADE answered through the nylon wall.

"You looking at gay porn right now?" I asked, making sure I was not interrupting anything.

"No, not yet—looking at KRAZESTER. Bitches on here are tripping out over the virus. I just finished watching a video that someone from France uploaded, showing hundreds of Sinners running through Paris streets during the night," SPADE informed.

"Name something you would have done differently during the Athen's mission," I said.

"You mean besides not accepting the mission to help the CIA agent? Carrying more ammo. I ran out damn near 20-minutes before the Blackhawk arrived at the LZ," SPADE informed.

"What's your suggestion? Carry more magazines?" I asked, trying to get a better understanding.

"That and a handgun," SPADE suggested.

Personally, I hated the idea of carrying a handgun and its ammunition, because it just added unnecessary weight for the simple fact most combat engagements happen at 250-yards and beyond—well beyond the effective range of a handgun.

As Guardians, we trained with the minimal, ensuring we stayed as light and mobile as possible. In fact, during RED [Rescue, Extraction and Defense] training, every Guardian had to survive and complete "Hell," which was a 14-day survival course.

During Hell, Guardians had to survive, as a team, with just a Tomahawk, Kukri, and their assault packs, in the middle of the wilderness. During Hell, Guardians were forced to work as a team and survive while utilizing the Guardian kit that all Guardians carried in their assault pack during missions and operations.

For your knowledge, I have included the list of items every Guardian carried within their assault packs.

Medical kit;

Fire starting kit;

Rifle cleaning kit;

Hygiene kit;

5 Instant cold and heat packs;

3 emergency blankets, folded;

Moon Beam [flashlight];

Pack of double A batteries;

3 MREs [Meals Ready to Eat];

Tomahawk attached to the right side;

Kukri Machete attached to the left side;

550Paracord;

Pack of 12 glow sticks;

Multi-tool;

Blade sharpener;

Bank-line;

2 extra pairs of boot socks;

An extra pair of BDUs;

Anti-diarrhea tablets;

Stainless steel kanteen;

Bug repellent;

Compass;

Duct-Tape;

4 plastic sandwich baggies;

2 condoms [morale and water collecting];

Fishing line and hooks;

Zip-ties;

Spark [for time, and communication];

Baby wipes [for wiping your shitting ass and sweating nuts];

Stainless steel cooking pot and mess tray;

Stainless steel eating utensils;

All-weather hemp universal notebook, tan, 8.5" x 11";

All-weather black bullet pen, black ink;

On the 15th day of Hell, Guardians then hiked 10-miles to extraction.

You see, while modern militaries continued to train and rely heavily on technology and conventional warfare, we Guardians went back to the basics. Instead of fancy, worthless, high-speed tactical gear, and worthless tactical movements that never work in actual combat, we trained in unconventional warfare—trained to stealthily hunt, stalk, hit hard, and then disappear—while using the bare-minimal.

Ideally, we sought to complete missions without fighting long-fought battles, which required the most destruction possible, with minimal effort. Thus, ideally, all attacks relied on the element of surprise, while causing intense violence and fierce shock-force for false appearance of superior strength.

Therefore, we sought to stun the target with an all-out-fury, causing chaos and confusion, and then disappearing like ghosts…

"Honestly, I hate the idea of carrying more weight, but I think you're right," I told SPADE.

"We settling on the nine [9mm]?" SPADE asked through the nylon walls.

"Yes, reluctantly, I'm in favor. It'll be something I'll have to get used to," I informed SPADE.

"You'll be alright, bitch tits. It's better than running out of ammo during a firefight with the cannibals," SPADE reminded.

"Ya, I hear ya," I said.

Personally, if I could get away with it, I'd rather operate in khaki cargo shorts, tennis shoes, a baseball hat, and a plain tee shirt, looking gray [like a normal civilian, in civilian clothing; undercover], because I am in the belief that speed conquerors strength when it comes to warfare.

During World War 2, the Germans understood speed warfare quite well, when they introduced "Blitzkrieg" [lightning war] upon Europe, conquering nations with ease. Conventional forces, such as the French and Polish, did not stand a chance against the new, unconventional war-tactics the Germans unleashed.

Remember, no matter what gear you use, or the tactics and training you utilize, it only takes one bullet to fuck up your day, so the first person to hit their target, claims victory. You see, speed is survival. A fast and nimble target is harder to hit than a fat, heavy, slow target.

If we were to start operating with a sidearm, it was without doubt going to be the KI-Stryke, which chambered and fired the 9mm. When designing the handgun, I chose the 9mm over the 40S&W and 45ACP, because the 9mm was a smaller, lighter bullet versus a slower, heavier bullet, allowing the KI-Stryke to hold a higher capacity of ammunition. Not only that, but the 9mm was also cheaper, and more readily available, and easier to find. You see, the 9mm is probably the most widely used pistol cartridge in the world, compared to all the other pistol ammunition.