Crossrevert

God I must look ridiculous. I really don't remember how all this started but I know that it was about a year ago now. Pulling my armor-padded gloves up over my wrists I look over the city taking in the smell of exhaust fumes and fast-food. Leaping down onto the fire escape I make my way down into the alleyway and off into the night. Off to the side I can hear the screams of a woman, great, time to work. Checking my mask I run in the direction the screams are echoing from. I find two men with knives cornering a young woman, probably in her 20s. It's almost poetic in how stereotypical this situation is. Slowly I break into a run and grab hold

You know what I think? I think things would be a whole lot simpler if the world didn't have any sentimental crap. Oh, I suppose I should introduce myself. My name is Ted Brand and I’m a bartender from New York City. This is my story. I woke up sometime in the middle of the day, my alarm didn’t go off again, and I sat up and took a look at my apartment. It’s not much, just a run-of-the-mill crappy apartment. Everything the same dull gray color as everything else in the world. Well, not everything. The hat my dad gave me six years ago was still its dull dirty orange color, but in a world where everything’s gray it might as

Five years ago all color was lost from this world. Scientists believed it was an outbreak of a virus that caused color-blindness in humans but this was disproved when items were discovered to still have all their pigment. Nothing important, an action figure, a hat, a scarf, but the price of these objects sky rocketed and now only a select few are seen with any color with them at all, everyone else is stuck with a dull gray world. Suicide rates have gone up and peacocks have gone extinct. Now, you may be wondering who I am and why I'm telling you all this, and if not then nuts to you and stop reading. My name is Gordon Smith, I am a detective

"Oh god my head hurts. Wait, what's a head? Actually what are these... words? Thoughts? Is that what these are called? Well, I'm gonna have to organize these thoughts of mine because they're giving me a headache. First off, who am I? Ball? Is that my name? Yes, that's right, I'm Ball. Ok, what am I? I'm pretty sure that I wasn't this before, in fact I'm fairly certain I've never thought before. I don't have time to be thinking of stuff like this. Or do I? ...What's time? God my head hurts, I'm just gonna wake up now... whatever that means." Ball thrashed about on the ground for a moment before his eyes shot open and he found himself clutchin

A flash of light. The sound of metal clashing. The sight of blood. The fight was over. “Winner, the blue flame!” The announcer shouted into the microphone over the roaring audience. In this city, those who are sentenced to the death punishment are put on display, like animals or circus freaks. Pathetic. I walk back to my side of the arena, a hatch swings open and I walk in, taking a seat on the cold metal booth inside. The hatch swings shut, clicks, and the walls begin sliding up as I sink lower beneath the city. They’d finally allowed citizens to enter the arena and I needed the money. The thought of killing people was unsett

“I think he’s dead, just leave him.” “I don’t know… he doesn’t look dead to me.” A moan, some scuffling, and a rising body. “You okay dude?” “Yeah I’m fine.” Morgan rubbed his head and looked around with one eye. It was dark, very dark, and he wasn’t really sure where he was. “What happened?” “You were all like going down this rail up here and then you kinda fell off and smacked your head on the concrete.” Holding his hand in front of his face Morgan could see blood, lots of it, and it felt like the entire left side of his face was covered in the