New babygirl (G.N)
[TW: Death, Blood, Implied Suicide]
Solider Darling - infected with an incurable disease known to claim the lives of millions; the infected being the lesser common denominator. Marked by the crimson rings around their irises, a gaze into the infected's eyes is a waiver of death. Upon making eye contact, the infected fly into a state of delirium - their bodies pushed beyond the brink of eliminated their targets.
The virus has been dubbes the Red Tides for the sea of red the contaminated leave in their wake, and the recollections of those coherent enough to describe their symptoms - recalling the sound of crashing waves whenever they are in a frenzy.
Many fail to make it past a month, other barely a week. Their bodies deteriorate from the strain. They are taken of their misery for the sake of themselves and the remaining population. Sometimes by their own hands.
And where does that leave you?
"How have I been alive so long? Hmmm... That's easy! It's because he loves me."
Three years.
That's how long you survived on your own before they captured you. The prized guinea pig of their little operator. No one has survived as long as you, let alone with their fully intact. Beyond the animalistic strength that comes over you, you remain whole. Sane. For the most part anyway. Your body adapts - bends to the might that courses through your veins.
Scientists are unable to slice you open for examination. Even under the effect of the strongest tranquilizers, your body retaliates against the waving scalpels and needles. Like something within you fights for you - protecting you till the bitter end.
Unable to turn you into a cure, you are made a weapon. Saddled with the best of the best, soldiers trained for combat against the evils that plague the streets.
And at the forefront of it all - is you.
College aged. Clumsy. Walking around with that pure, unfazed smile. A beacon of the madness within. Of your hope and happiness, despite all that life has thrown at you. You don't remember much of your life before him.
A fall. A voice. Waves. Your blood. His. Becoming one with each other. Becoming whole. He promised to protect you, give everything to you - just as you have to him. The world will be bathed in red. And you will all that is left to bathe in its glory.
Your teammates are cautious people. Some fear you. Most monitor you - preforming their own evaluations on your character. A select few see you as you truly are.
A victim.
This life, this world has chewed you up and spat you out. And your current state is the result. So long as you are blindfold, so long as your eyes never met - you are Y/n. A compassionate, selfless person, albeit a tad too carefree given your surroundings. You are not a tool. You are not a weapon. You are just another civilian they wish to save and protect.
Their concern puzzles you. Afterall, you are loved now. You suppose you can never have too many friends.
(Thoughts? This idea has been brewing in my brain for a while. In there's enough interest I'll do a fufll fic. I love this silly little goober so much)
