Mind games

Chapter 1- cry blood, bleed tears

My name is Kestrel Yamazaki, I am 15 years old, I am a hunter, I am a survivor. This is what I must tell myself to maintain my sanity.

All those years ago, man came to our land, we where ready to take charge, leap into action, create a world of peace, hope and success in which we would flourish in. Then destroy it. We fought between ourselves, killed our people and our home. We painted the wall red with the blood of our enemies. Fast forward a few brutal years, and the last of humanities sane lives like loyal dog in a kennel. The confinement we call home is named Mesperyian and we carry out structured lives filled to the brim with rules and timetables and rigid shit like that. We are born because there are not enough of us, we are taught so that we are prepared, then we are put in the mind games by 14 years old. Then we die. Well some of us do. It's up to the mind games really, we go about our structured live until six o'clock when all 14 and over are called for by the screaming of the warning sirens. We all have our floor depending on what year you became 14. For me it was 3013 so I'm floor 2/15. You move up floors as more generations (what we call each group) of 14 year olds are admitted. That's 15 generations all together, 15 years of training. But what I don't understand is two big things that have always been a bit foggy to all of us. Why are we still training and not been sent out yet? What happens to people who disappear during the mind games? You see, when we enter our floors we go to the our pods where we're plugged in and this kind our helmet with a blue tinted glass face shield. Your eyes close but your mind opens. Our main objective is to kill everything. No, really whether it's a fluffy bunny, innocent squirrel or spotty deer with big Disney eyes. Even a person. But it's easier to swipe the life out from under their feat when they come blundering towards you screaming like a knife or machete wielding lunatic (which is what they are). And once you get out it out of you mind, it's as easy as writing, or easier looking at how I'm crap at anything non-hunting related. And anyway, they aren't real people but programmed ones. But there real enough, (to be continued)