Post by Twisted on Oct 15, 2014 13:54:15 GMT -5
Destiny
By Twisted
"We all start somewhere, whether in a womb or in a machine, sometimes somewhere in between"
"I am Destiny Cross, that may or may not be my identity but for now let's go with it. I was once human, just like everyone else. I was born on a holiday my father would always say, a holiday because a special girl was born that day. I can remember my father, he was a wonderful man, he loved my mother, me and my little brother. I was two when that little ball of energy came into the world, I was a little brat most of the time, fun loving and mischievous, I caused several pranks even at such a young age. At five years old my mother got sick with the coughing virus that no one knew how to heal. She died less than a year later. We were all heartbroken but we couldn't afford to stop life because someone died. So my father moved to the city of the colony, so that we could have a nanny to care for us while he was on duty. He was in the military, even now I couldn't tell you which division it was. He'd leave on the big space ships with the rest of them, and he'd come home a long while later with open arms for me and Christopher. So our years passed in this way. I was almost seven years old when a trooper came home, not Father. And he handed me a letter, and that letter held the words that I hated with all my might. "Erik Cross has gone missing in action. Our deepest condolences" Of course there was more in the letter, but I could only remember that part of it, although I could barely pronounce the word "condolences" anyway. But I remember being so sad I couldn't even cry. For my father was more than any memory I had of my mother, he was my support, my role model that had been snatched away. Soon after my father's death both I and Christopher were relocated to an orphanage, a horrible stinking place that held a group of hellish children. We were separated into our respective gender wards. We still got to see each other but it just wasn't the same. As we lived there our lives became increasingly worse. Apparently the shaping sickness had had an outbreak and was beginning to spread across the colonies and gaining sentience to assault the rest of our race and other races even. While in the orphanage it was becoming obvious that I had a gift with technology. I was growing adept to using it, Not creating precisely, but once created, it was like I could understand every aspect about it. Not completely, but I was growing along with my knowledge of the tech. I was a very curious girl, sneaking off to discover some new project every day.
It was a long time in coming, but when I was twelve years old I had made my own collection of radios and communicative devices, I had learned how to tap into the military communications. Now this might have simply have been a childish tinkering, but to the military this was a HUGE breach of security. Next thing I knew the entire city was on lockdown and they were searching each building. When they came for the orphanage I naturally hid my gear in the usual hiding place in the ceiling where I had displaced one of the large tiles several years before. I had naturally underestimated them, they found it right away and questioned the headmaster about it. I was taken up with my roommate to the Admiral Hanson who looked at us two girls, both of us twelve years old and demanded to know where the person who had put us up to hiding the tech was. I shyly had stepped forward and timidly confessed my guilt to having built it. The shock on the admiral's face would have been humorous had it not seemed like I was in trouble. The man handed the tech to his lower ranked accompaniment and knelt in front of me. I can still remember what he asked me in such a hushed tone. "You child, did you build this? Or are you lying to me?" And I had slowly nodded my head and said that I had. He had taken my hand then and led me out of the room. No question, no protest from the headmaster; just... silence. I, with my oversized shirt and my messy hair was led out with a personal escort of armed guards, having no idea what had just happened to me. I hadn't even thought to ask about my brother until we were boarding the battleship. But I was told I couldn't ever see my brother again. That was my only regret about leaving that rotting prison of mine. But I eventually gave it no more thought. I was heading into a new world with a bright future ahead! ....or so I had thought at the time.
If I had thought that orphanage was hell, I was incredibly wrong. Hell hadn't even happened yet. At twelve years old I was put into a special academy, or so I was told. A girl who could barely read or write was being taught how to design high class armaments and weapons, not to mention encryptions. Apparently I was some kind of genius, pitied by the women aboard the hidden cruiser, Gladiator in which my education was taking place. No time hardly to rest I would either adapt or be forcefully adapted. I grew hard, this was my job, this was my contribution to the work my father had done, this was my way of protecting my little brother so many star systems away. I would not fail. And I did not. It seems I had surprised several people with my ingenuity. My work was put on the front lines and had begun to change the way of warfare. I seemed to have some form of disability in my brain that caused me to see things other people would not. I could correct flaws and now I could make my own creations thanks to my private tutoring. Little did I know I was hated by the insurrectionists who were being thwarted by this newly developed tech. I had no idea that my newly made encryption codes were being used to protect my existence from becoming public knowledge. I was fourteen when I made my own missiles that rivaled that which had taken researchers years to do. I had become a key card in the game that is war. I got a nickname Mors from the people who had begun to hate me for my work. I had no idea, but the people were beginning to figure out one person was behind the sudden developments. Mors was a hated figurehead of tyranny. I had no idea how much I was effecting the world. If anything I thought I was insignificant, useless. From the way the military around me treated me I didn't know why they still had me. I didn't realize it then, they feared me. But I had begun to grow frustrated. I had no idea what was happening to my projects, I couldn't even keep a diary without them reading it. I didn't dare hack into any computer systems to learn because they had threatened the life of my brother the last time I had done so.
When I finally got enough gumption to actually hack into the systems I developed I began to realize what I was doing. I was faced with the facts of the events I had caused by developing new weapons. I realized that I was a wild card, too valuable to be given away or released by the invisible chains that held me back. If I left, I would cause my brother's death, but if I stayed, how many more would die because of me? What was the best way to continue my life? Or... if I ended it, who would help develop the necessary weapons needed for defending against those who would attack us. I didn't know what to do. I was at a crossroads. I was fifteen at the time, I didn't dare tell anyone what I knew, after all, what would they do if they knew? If they knew I was sure I'd lose some of the very few freedoms I already had. Instead I began to thoroughly analyze what had resulted because of my work. Because of me, a new armor was developed to protect our soldiers, because of me planets had been subjugated under the rule of the military. What was to be done? The shaping sickness was spreading even worse than before the more it ate the more it killed. So I began to change my focus to weapons to fight it. I wanted something to fight other than my own race. Why my weapons had turned toward them I didn't know. If anything I felt somewhat betrayed for a time but remembered none of it had been a thing that could be betrayed. I had never accepted friendships, never accepted kindnesses, I didn't want them nor need them. I was as alone as I had begun with. My only solace was the technology I developed which was usually taken away before I could even have any time to take pride in each individual work. By the time my sixteenth birthday rolled around the state of warfare had gotten far worse. Gladiator had been carefully hidden all this time, only docking once or twice, and when it did they put me in the brig to make sure I didn't try to leave. I grew less afraid and timid as the memories of my brother were buried under that of the knowledge of my work. My work was my only world. I helped develop serums and cures, I helped in almost anything because of my ability to see the patterns of the numbers, the flaws and the way to correct each flaw. There were many times where I hated the people around me. All in all I was a confused girl.
But my life full of work was disrupted shortly after my twentieth birthday. Gladiator was boarded by insurrectionists, I was hidden with a petty officer until they left. When we emerged I got a picture of what hell looked like first hand rather than from the videos I had watched. The petty officer with me had gone to check the escape pods while I looked at the remnants of most of my life. I was alone again. I was lost, still a child even after all these years. I had no idea what to do without any instruction. I had only made what I was told to make. I hadn't created just to create since the orphanage. But then the shaking of the hull woke me from my reverie of thought. They intended to destroy Gladiator just to make sure Mors did not survive it since they had finally pinpointed Mors to Gladiator. I stood frozen, with no idea what to do. But then my A.I., a creation of my hands insisted that I headed down to the cryogenics bay. There I injected myself with the suspension fluid, not even thinking of the soldier as I climbed into the pod and left Reflection to move the inner shields around me and the parts of the ship she could save. I watched part of the room blast inward from my sealed pod as my vision started fading. Closing my eyes I fell into the deep frozen sleep. Kinda cliché and stupid in my opinion. But that leaves me here, still floating around inside the ravaged Avalon sleeping until the back up power of the cruiser and the slipspace drive should run out and I just die here. Reflection is still in the console dealing with the details of the cruiser while I slumber. I have no idea how long it's been or even where I am.
"Left in Limbo"
Notes:
Here is my story, this is a roleplay character's background based heavily off of a video game known as Halo. Classic prodigy story.