Who has posted? | | View a Printable Version

TehPilot · 09-29-2016, 05:50 AM

There's a place they don't want me to know about. A place they don't want you to know about.

There's a man-made island somewhere off the coast of North Carolina. The government constructed it in secret roughly fifty years ago. You won't find it through satellite images or in any textbook. Out of sight, out of mind, just out of reach of the law sitting in those balmy international waters. It looks just like any untouched tropical paradise from the outside, but you'd be dead before you even got close enough to get a good look.

For years, I stood alongside my brothers and sisters in protest. I endured the shouts, the tear gas and rubber bullets, watched as those around me were beaten unconscious and carried off on stretchers. Protest gave away to conflict, activism faded and sabotage took its place. Rubber bullets turned to real bullets as we took back laboratories by force. The purist movement was never popular with the general public - and I certainly can't blame them. If I didn't let them spoon-feed me lies about longevity and miracle cures, I would be content to stay at home letting it all blow over for a better future. They don't want to talk about those tossed aside and mercilessly churned in the cogs of a society who now has a new benchmark of perfection to leverage war with. Nobody wants to address the downsides of embracing new advances, even if it's costing money and lives to get there.

I have come too far to turn back. The Project was said to have been shut down years ago, but my last raid turned up some documents discussing a secretive laboratory on this secluded island. Beneath the sandbar, nestled between the bedrock and surrounded by water, their dreadful research continues. I refuse to let these operations continue; I refuse to let years of fighting be all for naught.

I pull the lead-lined blanket off of myself and look up at the blood-red sunset above. The Geiger counter now slowly ticks time away. Not very long ago, our associates may have detonated a nuclear warhead somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean's vast expanse. If the math's correct, the EMP should have knocked any security systems offline out here, and I can get on this island alive.

I'm alive and approaching the sandy shore. Nothing's shot me yet. I have about three hours until fallout levels become lethal. I'm going to get to the bottom of this.

A dedicated activist for the Human Purity movement approaches the shores of the clandestine tropical island. It is covered in dense foliage, with a slight wind dancing through the trees. The blackened clouds from the blast are drifting ominously in the distance. Equipped with a pistol, eight bullets, a Geiger counter, and some iodine pills, the activist anchors his boat to a nearby rock and gets on land. Not far now.

But who is our intrepid hero?

>_

Show Content