Terminal

The year is 2102 AD. Fifty years ago malignant cancers and other terminal diseases were rampant. Most of mankind had experienced at least one form of these diseases in their lives either firsthand or through people they'd known. Because of this everything the world had grown accustomed to changed. Laws were set into motion preventing food manufacturers from adding preservatives and other unnatural additives to their products. Smoking was deemed illegal as was alcohol consumption. Bars became a black market commodity, and cigarettes became common contraband sold in the shadows.

The world began to examine its fuel and energy efficiencies. Cleaner energy sources soon were utilized, and the oil industry became nonexistent. Plastics were replaced by a new biodegradable material called Seed. This compound was reactive to the enzymes in soil promoting vibrant plant growth. Aside from stone, wood, and the purest of metals, Seed became an architectural building block for most societies.

Oil tycoons reinvested and expanded the farming community and reimagined the energy market. Gasoline was replaced with Biofuel, a methane-based fuel which converted methane into gaseous water, steam. Cars, trucks, planes, all known basic vehicles were replaced with Cloud Runners, Biofuel efficient vehicles capable of all common forms of transportation. Cloud Runners came in many shapes and sizes from the more sporty AeroCirrus to the massive, mega-transport Cumulonimbus. Traffic control went from merely being on the city streets and highways to occupying the skies and floating above the waters.

Due to an increase in steam production, the air was cleaner but much denser with humidity causing substantial increases in precipitation. Dams had to be extended and reinforced. Existing reservoirs were expanded, and new ones were installed. Sewer and overflow substructures were reimagined and broadened, as cities learned to cope with daily rains. It was a strange time, a time when the heavens never seemed to cease weeping.

In 2062 AD governments decided to consolidate all important monetary items and personal information slips. Identification cards, licenses, credit and debit cards, insurance verifications were done away with to save Seed for larger projects, as supplies began to grow scarce. All cards were replaced with one single piece of technology, the Identichip.

The Identichip wasn't just the world's connection to an individual, but it was also an individual's access to the world. It resembled the likeness of an early century data stick or thumb drive, and did in fact fit into most standard USB slots. However inside of this tech laid millions of nanites, microcomputers both organic and machine and capable of being programmed and reprogrammed. With a single push of a button on the Identichip, a tip would inject these nanites into the bloodstream of their recipients through sixty-four rapidly vibrating needles. After this procedure a person could be scanned for personal identification, criminal records, even their health records. Money could be transferred with a simple handshake. No one ever had to fill out a resume again. Everything a company, organization, or government body needed to know about their employees was just beneath the skin. Eventually Identichipping became a commonly practiced procedure during child delivery.

However, with all the safeguards, laws and regulations put into place, cancer and terminal sickness still continued to thrive. Thus financing became an increased need for scientific discovery toward a cure. Enter BlackHelix Industries. Initially federally funded this company diligently strived for a cure. As if systematically and strategically planned, BlackHelix Industries made themselves publicly known as mankind grew desperate for a savior.

BlackHelix invented new painkillers as well as other disease treating narcotics. One of their more famous drugs was Vapoden, a vaporous drug administered through a small handheld vaporizer resembling a 21st century electronic cigarette. This drug, when inhaled, slowed the growth and reproduction process of cancer cells. Its downside, however, was how extremely addictive the drug was, but the world didn't care.

BlackHelix introduced Helixtherapy, a nearly pain free alternative to chemotherapy. It was less intrusive by utilizing the nanites in their patients' bloodstreams and commanding them to break down and absorb the cells with a 75% success rate to cause remission. However, it had a 90% guarantee to wipe their Identichip clean and force recipients to go through the tedious process of Proof of Identity which more times than not would never be proven. Patients would eventually wind up on the streets, one out of four dying of cancer in a gutter, but again the world didn't care. They were desperate. It was upon this desperation, upon the backs of the sick, upon the cries of the helpless, upon a disease stricken populous BlackHelix went from federal to private, fully capable of financially sustaining itself. Their influence had increased, and eventually they climbed to the top surpassing most governments in power, a megacorporation towering over a dying world, commanding every country from a throne of pharmaceutical heirarchy.

On August 10, 2088 AD, The United Nations, in opposition to BlackHelix, dispersed what they believed to be a cure into the atmosphere from several locations around the world. This cure didn't get rid of cancer cells but rather put the cells in a state of stasis, so they'd no longer grow or reproduce or cause any harmful side effects to their hosts. Rejoicing and celebration was said to have been heard around the entire globe, as all believed this would be the end of BlackHelix. They believed wrong.

Violence broke out world-wide as BlackHelix subdued, arrested, and executed mobs of protestors and civilians. Countries fought to regain control of their land. Patients fought to regain control of their health. People fought to regain control of their lives. It appeared like the world was on the verge of upheaval, but then something occurred, something unexpected, something that caused those on the verge of taking everything back again to fear.

Exactly one week after the cure, in the midst of a World War, a young boy burst into flames, not because of a chemical weapon, not due to spontaneous combustion, but because he simply chose to. A girl hovered above the ground and caused Cloud Runners to explode with the snap of her fingers. All around the globe people started displaying powers and abilities, all of them recipients of the cure, all of them formerly terminally ill.

Nations once again were in panic, and BlackHelix regained the upper hand as they shifted focus from the nations to these people who were later labeled as Terminals. The U.N. was dissolved due to the blame of their cure turned epidemic while BlackHelix swiftly organized special units with the help of military groups from every cooperating nation to sweep and seize Terminals.

During this time BlackHelix made a discovery pertaining to the cure. It was unstable. The cancer cells of Terminals were only in stasis when powers and abilities weren't activated. Upon activation, the malignancies grew, cancer cells multiplied, and the diseases spread. Terminals were given powers, but the powers would eventually kill them.

Soon after, the information of the recent discoveries leaked to the public. Some Terminals, realizing their time was limited, started using their powers for personal gain. Others used their powers to protect the innocent or to rebel against BlackHelix's oppression. Some, however, decided to cease using their powers upon discovering the side effects, and that was when the world learned another terrible truth. Terminals that didn't use their powers and abilities would eventually go violently insane, losing access to their powers but becoming extremely difficult to kill. This unused energy would also draw other psychotics together like a pheromone. Complete cities were wiped out in months, many burned to the ground, and thus the name "Burners" was given to the psychotic Terminals. The remaining government bodies eventually crumbled from the losses, and in the midst of the ashes of devastation stood BlackHelix.

The year is 2102 AD. BlackHelix reigns supreme, and their top agent, their best hound is Ayden Krauss. He is a thirty-year-old loner with a death wish not to mention lung cancer to boot. His jagged black hair is the only physical attribute darker than his respiratory system. His five-o-clock shadow, a rough memento that he woke up to face another day, and his black jacketed, sleek suited sense of style is just another expensive reminder that his confidence is a front for a Vapoden and cigarette addiction. Even with all that he has going for him, in the end Ayden Krauss believes that, despite his greatest attempts to revive it, the world is an overmedicated corpse facedown in an open grave, and he is standing remorselessly on a mound of dirt and ash with chest pains and a shovel.