1 Chapter 1: Shadows of the Wasteland

In the heart of Metro Island, where shadows dance in the flickering light of burning trash fires, I tread carefully, mindful of the dangers lurking in every alleyway and darkened corner. For as long as I can remember, this lawless wasteland has been my prison, its tenacious grip holding me captive in a cycle of violence and despair. I am on my way once again to school, if you can call it that; there is just one teacher for a group of us students. It's early morning around 6:00 am, pretty dangerous to be walking Metro Island without an adult at this time. This walk to the old building with very little lighting was always like a warzone. You never know when someone was going to jump out at you.

Metro Island is a small Island that was founded off the coast of Japan by Americans after World War II. It was first used for military bases, but eventually, they decided to start shipping over criminals to live on the Island. They had intended for this Island to be like an experiment to see if the criminals could reshape themselves into a functioning society. In the early 2000s, America officially abandoned the territory; it would seem that experiment had ended in failure. No other country wanted to take over after that; eventually, Metro Island became a blight on the world. In the modern age of 2032, this place is a shell of its former self.

Comparing it to other 3rd world countries it is by far at the bottom of the list; this place is a hellhole floating in the Pacific Ocean. Nobody can leave due to every other country invoking a block on travel to this place; nobody can come in, and nobody can get out. This island a few 100 miles east from mainland Japan couldn't be any worse off. Gangs rule this place; there is no government, each gang rules a different territory. The Island is separated into ten zones; each of these zones has a different gang at the center. I live in Metro Zone 7; I have spent 18 years suffering through the harsh conditions here. Like a bird in a cage, I have been trapped here my entire life with only an older brother to look over me. 

Our parents were killed when I was very young; I never even saw their face, although my brother Kai says he can still remember them. He has been something of a father to me; he is seven years older so he provides for our small family. He has bought me all the books I have asked for when he can, but it's never enough; this stupid Island can only provide me so much. I need more... I want to learn all I can, and escape this hellhole once and for all. Just as I think that, a skinny man with a white t-shirt walks up to me. He has blonde hair like mine but smelled like rotten fish and appeared to be missing teeth. He puts a disgusting hand on my shoulder and begins to speak. The man in his rat-like voice squeaks, "Hey little bro whatcha doing walking in such a hurry. Why don't you stay and chat awhile with me little man. I got a job for you."

The man was likely affiliated with one of the upstart gangs around here; the main gang that runs zone 7 wouldn't be this upfront with its dealings. Instead of answering, I place my hand on his carotid sinus, "Let go." I have studied a lot of medical anatomy I am not skilled in combat, but I can at least defend myself. The man, looking surprised, backed away, "Woah woah I was just trying to help you out kid... I get the hint..." He backed away and left me alone. Scumbags like him are always trying to find their next victim to do their dirty work. I had no tolerance for bottom feeders plus I have to get to school. The teacher might not have much to teach me at my age now, but he has a lot of books. The more I absorb about the world the better my shot of getting out of here one day.

No more threats come up on my way over, and I reach the small building where classes are held; it was a run-down to all hell. I approached the small, dilapidated building, the fading daylight cast long shadows across its weather-beaten facade. Its once-vibrant paint had peeled away, leaving behind patches of bare, weathered wood. The roof sagged under the weight of years of neglect, and the windows were streaked with grime, obscuring any glimpse of the world outside. Despite its rundown appearance, the building exuded a certain charm, a testament to the resilience of those who continued to gather within its walls in pursuit of knowledge. As I pushed open the creaking door, the musty scent of old books and dust filled my nostrils, mingling with the faint echoes of voices from within.

Inside, the classroom was dimly lit by flickering fluorescent bulbs, their harsh glare illuminating rows of worn desks and chairs. The walls were adorned with faded posters and maps, relics of a bygone era, while shelves groaned under the weight of dog-eared textbooks and tattered notebooks. Despite its humble surroundings, the classroom was a sanctuary of sorts; street scum stayed away from this place. At the very least, most gangs, and other riff-raff understood that children at the very least should be left alone to learn here. Plus, I heard this place is protected by the main gang of Metro Zone 7. I take my seat in the back of the class; the teacher takes roll-call to make sure that everyone made it alright to school mostly.

The teacher is a man in his early 40s; he is scruffy, had a tired look on his face, and his black hair flowed down his back in a messy way. He had a wild side to his outfit; it was torn in places, and he was wearing long black jeans. No doubt he didn't even make a cent teaching us, but I heard he receives donations from parents and the main gang to keep this place open. There are rumors he used to belong to the Laughing Reapers when they were first started 20 years ago. Nowadays that's hard to imagine him being apart of the gang that controls all of Metro Zone 7. He smiles when he sees me; his knock-off punk look with his black ripped shirt look gave him an impression of a dad trying to stay hip, "Leo King?" I respond bored, "Present."

He gives me a nod, "Enthusiastic as always Leo?" There are only about 15 or so kids in the class, so our teacher Mr. Elm knows every student well given he is the only teacher. I mock, "You better have some new books in." Mr. Elm laughed, "New shipment just came in Leo; Tony hooked you up this time so thank him. Not that I know why you are so fascinated with business books, kids your age should be reading adventure books." I ignored his little comment, "I will thank Tony later, he got them from the mainland?" Mr. Elm nodded, "Seems at the very least money is good no matter where you go on Earth." He moved on to the next student after our exchange; I was excited these new books would bring me a step closer to my goal. I wanted to start my own business and make enough money to leave this shithole. Mr. Elm called one final name out, "Ray Zen?" Nobody responded.

Students started muttering, "Late again?" Another much younger girl muttered, "It seems like every day nowadays." The gaps in ages were apparent; that is why older students like myself that were on their way out had to mostly self-study. The student in question that is late is none other than Ray Zen; he is a student around my age, not that we've ever really talked. Most students call him "Raisin" for short more than likely because he isn't exactly a good student. He is like a fruit that has long since lost its moisture growing withered; he walks around our class like a husk. Just as I am thinking that the person in question walks in covered in bruises; it seems like he has a welt on his face.

He wears a white muscle shirt, with long grey cargo pants; he has red eyes like my own, but messy black hair instead of my golden blonde hair. He always has a scowl on his face like he ate something sour hence the nickname I suppose. He doesn't say a word as he takes a spot at the back of the class. There have been rumors of him joining some small-time gang, but it none of my concern really. As far as I am concerned, the guy is nothing but trouble not someone I really find myself compelled to speak to. Rather than concern myself with Ray, I decided it was time to catch up on reading. Once roll-call was done I grabbed the promised book from the teacher. I thanked him and sat down to read on my own.

Just like that the hours flew by with Ray mostly keeping his head down; it didn't seem like he really cared what was going on at school. I honestly wondered why he even bothered showing up. I read about half of the book before school ended at around 2:00 pm. I would pay a visit to Tony on my way back home, but I would have to take a small detour away from the residential area to do that. Tony is a barkeep who manages a small bar closer to the center of town he is a nice older man. He apparently has connections in the mainland that's how he can procure booze to open a bar. His connections let him get other stuff which he graciously shares with us students. One day I would find the means to pay him back for all that he has helped us with over the years, but all I can offer today is my thanks.

I walk behind Ray who apparently lives on this side of town I am not really paying attention as I read a bit of my new book as I walk. Which is why I am caught by surprise when I run into Ray's back. The guy is at least six feet tall, and I am only 5'8", so running into him almost knocks me over. I am about to bark out a complaint, but quickly realize why he stopped in his tracks. Surrounding us are a gang of thugs; they are locking eyes with Ray, and I dangerously. One of the bigger men with a burly figure begins yelling at Ray. The man yells out, "Hold on a bit you little shit. You sure did a number on us earlier today, but your luck ends here." He looks at me behind Ray, "Oh and who do we got here? Friend of yours? You may have caught us off guard before, but not this time. You and your buddy here are in for a rough ride." He brings out a metal bat his smile turning sadistic as he glares at both of us ready to jump us at a moment's notice.