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.