Dawn's Morning Star, Part I

-Sir, all units have advanced within striking distance of the target zone. We can lay down support fire when necessary. Your orders?
-Reform on me. Create a defensive perimeter around the target zone, and do not be seen. Enough has happened already, and yesterday was too close.
-Understood. Are you sure you can handle the current situation? If your dossier is correct, you've been on leave for a year.
-You underestimate your commander. Everything will go according to plan. Now mobilize! I can't have all of you around during school hours!

It was before dawn, when the sun had not yet stretched its arms into the veil of night. Eriko woke up to find an empty house as always. Her parents had not returned and would not do so for some time, so she was alone. However, the house was not quiet, as her music blared through the speakers in her room, filling the entire space with song. After taking a quick shower and getting dressed into a red tee-shirt and jeans, she ran downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast. It was a light breakfast, toast with eggs and milk, that would last her until lunch. By the time Em had turned off everything, locked the doors, and left the front gate, it had not been an hour. She sprinted to the Northeast Station, vowing to be early for the train starting today.

Among the other female students at the station, she took notice of a girl of small stature leaning against a concrete pole, absorbed in a small book held in her left hand. She was wearing a white shirt, a rumpled blue skirt running past her knees, an attache case-like bookbag, and no-rim glasses balancing delicately on her nose. Her shiny, jet black hair swayed past her skirt, and her nonchalant gaze tempted the words on the pages to life.

"Rie!" Eriko yelled a tad too loud. The girl by the post, recognizing Eriko's voice, let her left arm swing down and pushed off the pole with her right.
"Ahh geez! You're too loud in the mornings," responded the girl in a biting voice.
"But shouldn't best friends be happy to see each other?"
"Since when did I become your best friend?"
"You're cold!" But Eriko was right. Tied together by the School Reporting Club, they were drawn to one another in the search of important stories and groundbreaking news. In this manner did they continue to wait for the train.

When it did arrive, it was so quiet that they almost did not notice it. Only when the warning messages played did they pay attention. The magnetically levitated train glided silently into the station, hovering inches off of the tracks. As they and the other passengers boarded, it wobbled slightly then righted itself. After the second wave of messages, the pneumatic doors slid shut, and the train took off south to Siren Academy.

The two girls scanned their surroundings, looking for anything out of the ordinary. It was their nature. However, as hard as they searched, they could not find anything worth seeing. Just other girls on this section and those next to it. Just girls and one boy... One boy! What?
Both spotting him in the car in front, Rie and Eriko both pressed against the small window of the door that led to the forward areas.

Indeed there was a boy, but he was different. For one, he was wearing all black. Black, saggy supposedly-formal wear pants and a shirt of the same type. And his expression was a slight scowel, if anything. He was tampering with a headset-like device attached to the right side of his head, only barely nodding and gazing out of the window on his right. But the most distinguishing factor was the emptiness surrounding him. There was no one standing next to him, and no one acknowledged his presence. It was like there was a dead spot around him. He did not exist.

However, Eriko recognized him. Sort of. His name was Mot Eredar. Last she saw him, he had black-brown hair and thick glasses, and he was skinnier and shorter than the one before her now. This one was taller but just as skinny, had no glasses, and his hair color changed between black and a light grey. His face had not changed, though. He was expressionless as always, even during his last hours two years ago.

Rumor had it he withdrew from Siren at the end of the semester two years ago. Eriko would know, she had attempted to cover his story because no reason was given for his withdrawal. His name could not even be found in the school archives after that. Now Mot is riding a train full of girls who have not seen him for over a year towards a school he mysteriously disappeared from, and no one has noted his existence. Too many things were wrong with this situation. She glanced back at Rie, who also turned to Eriko. Surely she would have heard of him, Eriko thought. Rie had heard of him, but only in the article about his transfer out. Without a word, they agreed to get a closer look.

When they returned to the window, though, Mot was gone and all the girls in the cart he was in had moved to take back the empty space. Where could he have gone? This is a moving bullet train barreling down the tracks at at least 500kph, thought Eriko. She searched the outside of the cars from the side windows, but there was only the sound of howling air. People just don't vanish like that. Not twice.

Soon after the train slowed its approached and slid delicately into the school's front station. While the other passengers were disembarking, the duo searched the nearby cars frantically for even a trace of Mot. They found nothing. Disappointed, they abandoned the search and got off before the train continued on its circuit. From there, they boarded an old-style electric-powered train and took it to the dock on Siren's second floor. On the way, they admired the vast campus that they once again returned to. Bleach-white and brick-brown buildings, ubiquitous and magnificent structures, and greenery decorated the landscape. It was unfathomable how anyone could dedicate this much open space to an educational facility. As the train pulled in, Eriko and Rie were lost in thought, caught in the awe Siren Academy always gave them.

Zero Degrees, by Rie

Earth died. The world that once was, one of growth, peace, and prosperity, vanished into darkness, and a new "thing" appeared to replace it. This place is no longer a world, it is a madhouse.

The year as of two minutes ago is 2590. It is a new year, and everyone says that things will get better. Yet nothing has changed. The streets are filled with the homeless, the poor, and the forsaken, with their brethren's bodies laid at their feet. Red water runs throughout the cracks in the pavement. Ash shades the sky an ominous grey. The world recently entered its 6th official World War, with the actual total being 9, so far. The enemy is known to all as Zephania, a country built by religion alone over the shattered remains of WUN, and infamous for its attempts to consolidate and expand.

Cities lay in ruins. Not just in the American continents, but all around the world. Since the beginning of the Zephanist expansion, lovingly dubbed "Terror Wave," several major population centers across the map were targeted. Europe, Asia, Australia, the Americas, Africa, and even the Antarctic settlement were subject to a sudden awakening of sleeper cells and underground organizations, all under Zephanist influence.

In response, both the strong and the weak huddled together to combat the fierce new threats, both internal and external. ZION, the Asian Alliances, Disk, and all the others are examples of such. And everyone managed to succeed. Except the Americas. Already weakened from the last global conflict (World War V) and broken into the loose city-states of WUN, most of the area fell quickly to the Zephanist incursion. Only a few small coastal areas staved off the enemy offensive with heavy support from all allied organizations, and several reclamation attempts have begun over the past decades. None have succeeded yet.

Terrified and awed, some ran in panic, for there was nothing left for them in this world. Others stood perfectly still, for their bodies would not move. And others died. Many others. The innocent, the guilty, the soldiers, the civilians, the men, the women, the boys, the girls, and everyone else. The ruins of their lives now engulfed in flames dye the sky red, and the blood of all those sacrificed tint it red.

But they were not the only ones who suffered. They are not the only ones who are suffering. Funds from all vital institutions in the new world were drained in order to sustain and prevent the violence. People lost their houses, their belongings, their livelihoods, and their lives in the sake of global peace.

And yet, some people do not know of this at all and continue to live richly, abusing the luxury and privilage they take for granted. As far as I am aware, I am one of the only girls aware of the actual affects of this war within the school other than some adults. Not like the others. They do not know nor care to know where all their boyfriends went, where there money goes, why the shops closed, and what they really should care about. And I'm not sure if even the 150 that remain do not know of what they will soon be joining! It's...simply unforgivable how they do not act.

Nevertheless, I wouldn't blame them for their ignorance. They pay attention to the celebrities, the latest fads, the newest gear, and the hottest items that are plastered all over the media. The newspapers, magazines, television, radio, the networks, not one of them mentions the atrocities throughout the world. Not at first. Only when they are pushed and shoved and strained does the media speak of the war, and just barely. The lines are threadbare, and the only reporter to have ever ventured an in-depth examination vanished off the radar five years ago. That man was the pioneer in search of a story no one would touch.

In the name of that man, I became a junior reporter in his stead and set out on the road that he walked. I have pushed buttons and pulled strings to find out what exactly happened. Robert Trymal and his scoop would not be lost to the sands of time. Not if I can help it. He is my father, you know.

Dry Summer Sauce, Part II

As Eriko approached the east gate, she took notice of the various noises coming from the area. Loud clashes of metal against metal, with low but long lines of staccatos of more metal, pounding of tools on wood. But most of all, yelling. And lots of it, too. It sounded like construction, heavy work. What could be going on here? she thought. I'm pretty sure the school didn't need to renovate anything except the science labs, which are nowhere near here. Besides, like there's anyone to do the work anyways. Everyone could is already up north, probably dead. However, when Eriko reached the gate, she slid to a stop. She had seen something that shouldn't be here. Something that hasn't been here for years.

Men. Supposedly they had all left to fight in a war years ago. The heads at Sector 0 and (Sector 4) would take anyone. Volunteers were welcome, but not enough. In its place, a mass draft enlisted anyone who could hold a gun. Even children. And those who had just finished college were shipped off straight to the front lines the moment the graduated, no questions asked. And they never returned.

It was decided that not everyone could be drafted, so a code was emplaced that allowed a maximum of 150 young males under 24 be exempt from the draft. Starting from the youngest up, they picked out every boy under the limits and took the rest away. And all those 150 attended Siren Academy, the last stronghold of the north that hadn't fallen. Eriko would know, for she herself was evacuated moments before the fall of Derych 5 years ago, which was followed by a flurry of refugees fleeing the oncoming "Terror Wave."

But what she had seen there paled in comparison to the scene that unveiled before her eyes. She was right, it was construction work, but there were at least 300-400 strong, healthy males working the machinery. Impossible, they're not supposed to be here. I'm just seeing things. Nevertheless, she could not convince herself to believe what she was experiencing was nothing less than reality.

Something is wrong here. No one else has noticed it, but there is definitely something wrong here. It's my job as a reporter to find out what the hell is going on. Eriko ran inside the gate, slightly skidding on the path as she did so. The rain was falling even harder, as if the school was the center of the storm. Luckily, not one of the workers noticed her as she made her way down the path, until she brought herself to a short, frail-looking man standing on a slightly raised platform. He was getting orders from a strange handheld device and then barking them at the workers. A foreman, apparently. It doesn't look like he could do any of the work he guided.

"What is going on here!?" Eriko screamed to the foreman.
"What the? Who let you in here? No one's supposed to be here!" yelled the foreman.
"You are," she answered. Frustrated, the man awkwardly made his way down the platform and went directly to Eriko. At that moment, she was happy. He was noticeably shorter than her, and she barely cleared 5-foot 3.
"Listen here, miss. I'm in the middle of something extremely important right now. It'd be a great help if you would just waltz yourself right back out that gate and forget everything you saw today."
"Like hell I would! Do you think I would pass this story up? I want to know what exactly is going on, and you're going to tell me." As Eriko said this, she lifted the man by his collar and raised her fist threateningly.
"Wha- wait, hold on. I can't hear anything you're saying." The man was speaking into his little handheld, and glancing pleadingly to the school's highest rooftop, 6 floors above him and 500m away. There was someone there, and he was looking right at her.
"Oh, so there's where your boss is, then? I guess I'll go have a little chat with him, then." Eriko dropped the man, who crumpled onto the wet concrete. She began running towards the school entrance, planning to shoot straight up the stairs and pulling the veil off this mystery. I WILL have this story.

However, a strong force flew in at that moment and swept her off her feet. Slipping and falling on the soaked path, Eriko landed on her back. Hard. The impact made her head jerk backward, slamming it on the concrete. She blacked out for a moment, and was only slightly aware of her surroundings as she regained consciousness. Only her head would move, and she knew that she would black out again soon, so Eriko took a moment to study her environment. From what she could feel, it was still raining, but there was no wind. What was that force then? She angled her head towards the roof and saw that the figure was gone. She was about to search elsewhere until a shadow loomed over her paralyzed body.

Eriko couldn't make out much of the presence before her. Whatever it was, it stood only slightly taller than her and it looked human. The only clear things she could see were two eyes. They were grey. They cast a glare on her, and she could feel it. It was not cold, but suprisingly warm.
As she lost grasp and began to slip back into unconsciousness, she weakly spoke her thoughts.
Who are you?
The figure answered back gently. She could not hear it, but the voice was warm.
Then everything went black.

Eriko shot up. She was at her house, in her bedroom. She was on her bed and in her nightgown, with her soaking white dress and other clothes hanging contently on a line outside her window. The storm had ended. As she tried to remember what had just occurred, she found that she could not. Eriko made her way to the window ahd took down her clothes. They were dry, meaning that the storm had ended some time ago, and she had arrived home anytime after but long enough to dry her things. She gazed out onto the streets, which were also dry but still dark under the cover of the clouds but slowly being pierced by the sunset. Before Eriko went back to bed, she wondered what tomorrow would be like.

Will it rain again?