Sector 13

Discussion in 'Fan Art/Fan Fiction' started by Millim, Apr 12, 2019.

  1. Millim

    Millim The Big Straight Orderite

    Oct 13, 2010
    Well, this is my long awaited spiritual successor to "No Mutant's Sky", that weird porno I wrote a few years ago that went into weird directions.
    Anyway, this is a completely original thing that I plan to keep up with for a few years. It's more of what you'd expect. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this first chapter of what I hope is many.

    Sector 13
    Chapter One- How to Stop Worrying and Just Love Life

    My name is Harry Wilsham III, I was born in Sector 13. If you don’t know, Sector 13 is one of the 15 Sectors in the City, it sounds more threatening than it is. I mean, it’s not a great place to live, but once you get used to the Smell, it’s not so bad.
    Well, that was a lie, the local Police force will just bash your brains in if you look at them funny, poverty is increasing at an alarming rate and the bell rings at 7.00 for everyone to wake the fuck up. But it does have one thing going for it, and that’s I owe my entire existence to it. You see, my fellow reader, I am well aware that this is a fictional story and that I only exist for as long as this story keeps going. That’s why I have to try and stop and whatever resistance groups from rising and taking down this awful Government. The World may be shit, but without it, I don’t exist, and is existing is the only thing I got, without it, I’m nothing.
    That’s how I learned to stop worrying and just love life, hey that’s a pretty good name for a Chapter title.
    Anyway, so I may as well give a little bit of information about myself while I’m here.

    As stated before, my name is Harry, my father and grandfather before me were also named Harry, it’s kind of a family tradition, but I’ll most likely be the first to break it. It’s now even lasted 100 years so it’s not exactly a good tradition now is it?
    I was born 26 years ago next June, a fact that when I turn 26, I’ll most likely celebrate by getting pissed and fucking a local girl or something. Maybe I can dedicate an entire chapter to fill the space until the ending. Ah yes, the ending, I know the ending will come. Eventually I will be forced to join one of the said resistance groups and eventually be a hero and take down the Government, that fact is known after all, the main character of a Dystopian story is kind of the Hero. Unless we’re talking about Atlas Shrugged in which case, the main character is just an asswhole.
    As for my appearance, well, I’m a tall black haired fella with brown eyes and an admiration for suits. Of course, suits are expensive as fuck in this place, which is why I have a pretty well-paying job.
    I’m a banker, more accurately, I manage a branch in the okay district of Sector 13. I wake up everyday at 7, eat at 7.15, leave and be on my way at 8.00 and get to work at 8.45 to open up for 9.00. I would spend my time there, turning down starved People for their need to survive and then leave work at 6.00. The old Manager, whose name was Derek, was a massive asshole. He used to want me to stay over work hours. Eventually the fucker died of a heart attack for working too hard. That led to my first arrest where I got drunk and pissed on his grave. I mean, I was 21 at the time. Anyway, I’ve only been a manager for about a year, the board of directors ( a real shady lot, the room is even filled with shadows and the head is a thing man who hides his face in those shadows) must have forgot all about me pissing on Derek so here I am.

    My life is mundane, I am mundane. I’m a boring Person with nothing to show the World, I do my job and I come back. I put on a little music, maybe some jazz and relax. I have no friends, no wife, no children anyone that I’m close to.
    In fact, you probably know more about than anyone. And I get it, it’s weird, I’m a fictional Person who is restrained by what my Writer makes of me. In fact, I’m telling you this story to make myself the writer of this story, but I’m not, someone is putting words into my head and that someone is the real writer.

    I guess what I’m trying to say is, no matter what, my life has a complete lack on control. It’s formulaic and pressed down from someone else, but I don’t have any control over it.
    So that’s what this story is about. This story is about how I try to retake control of my mediocre life, with the knowledge that once I do, I’ll stop existing.
    Anyway, that’s enough for this Chapter. I’m pretty sure Chapter 2 will be more interesting and not just a bunch of exposition to get you caught up on who I am and what the World is like.

    Maybe Chapter 2 can feature some kind of story.

    Next: Chapter Two (it features a Story)
  2. Millim

    Millim The Big Straight Orderite

    Oct 13, 2010
    Sector 13
    Chapter Two- The Second Chapter

    By now I will be on my usual Train, reading the Morning’s paper about how much the cooperate news outlet likes to jerk itself off. That’s all what they are there for, how they did a bloody good job telling us about how they settled such injustice. Maybe a campaign on the war on drugs earned a journalist some kind of recognition for their damage on the community. But today is not that day, for you see I somehow managed to get a Holiday for the week.
    It’s this week where things will turn for me.

    Anyway, I’m alone with a bottle of gin, plundering how I will spend my week. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door. I answer it to see this tall blonde Woman in a white dress with tears in her eyes.
    “Can I help you?” I ask without a care in the World.
    “Yes, I need a place to stay for the night” she cried.
    I looked over her shoulder and shrugged.
    “Yes sure, but don’t expect me to feed you” I replied as I stepped aside to let her in.
    She looked around my Apartment. Empty gin bottles littered the glass table, cigarette butts lay dead on the floor and a pile of hardcore porn magazines sat next to the sofa.
    “You can sleep here, make yourself comfortable” I said as down the rest of the bottle.
    At this point, I’m thinking all sorts of things. Why is she crying.
    So I ask her “Why are you crying?” and she looks at me, with tears in her eyes.
    “I was caught out.”
    “By who?” I loudly think to myself, not aware that my most basic instincts just blurted that question out.
    “By the secret Police.”
    The Secret Police? Shit. That’s never a good sign.
    You see the Secret Police was set up in the early 70’s, this was before the War of five classes had even really begun. They were set up to go undercover against gangs and such. But eventually, they came to be known to break resistance groups. Of course, they tried to work strictly under the radar, the very fact that People know about the Secret Police just tells you how good they are at their job really.
    “Well, if I let you stay here, will I get caught?” I ask very nervously.
    “I made sure I wasn’t followed” the Woman replied, there was a hint of uncertainty in her voice. But that’s just nerves.

    Oh so I thought.

    The door came crushing down, and a number of armoured Police ran into my Apartment.
    “You there, you’re under arrest” one of them shouted as they had their guns aimed at me.
    Well shit, I thought I was gonna die, which is why it makes a pretty nifty cliff-hanger.

    Next: A Cliff-Hanger Resolved?! Filler comes to Town
  3. R.Graves

    R.Graves Confirmed Retard

    Apr 21, 2016
    I read this as section 31 and thought we were gonna talk about that star trek show.