text: Creator Notes: Please maximize the window to fully enjoy. I made this to tell a story while allowing you to see first-hand what the characters feel, think, and what they've been through. I wanted to make something enjoyable and worthwhile, so here it is.
  
  Disclaimer: All pictures are not mine - they are from google. Where the heck else will I, a 14-year-old, get  angel pictures? However, all characters and such are mine.
  
                                                                                                                                                                                                   
   We throw out our bodies on the fire and we die,
  Settle into ashes as the flames keep piling high
  We tossed and spread the kerosene and alcohol,
  The ethylene ignited cardboard homes.
  The second in a hundred and again as many years
  Street signs, skyscrapers and names.
  State Street, what a great street
  When the places and the people stayed the same.
  
  Winter beats the summer on the worst ones
  I fall in love again on the first ones
  Carbon vapor lines burn as a grid
  Like the burning summer evenings like my fingertips did ...
  
  This town is choking on our filth
  Obstinate displays of wealth
  Clog our Lincoln, Wicker, Rogers parks.
  Here's to your health Chicago.
  Fiddle as we burn.
  Nevermore, nevertheless
  Build it up and tear it down and never learn .....
  
  -- The Lawrence Arms  
  
                                                                                                                                                                                                
  
   
   
  
  PROLOGUE:
  
   BURNING CHICAGO
  
   
  > start the game.
  ' 
  There's a strange soft ringing in my ears, but I cannot open my eyes. Cinders of gray and red have blinded me, my movement halted by something large crushing into my back, my ribs. In an instant, I remember everything. A sound of gunfire and a thick, hearty smell of fuel makes me naseous.
  
  "Yuzo! Aki!" I can't even recognize my voice, it's so torn and raggerd.
  
  The apartment is no longer an apartment, but a pile of rubble and belongings - some of them I would know as my own. Swollen and burning with tears, my eyes try to pry open and see, and I'm made frantic by the sound of perpetual ringing and crumbling.
  
  My leg is mingled under the thick layers of debris and rock, and I fear it will only mangle worse with struggles.
  > try to pry away.
  When I finally decide to try to pry myself out from under the rubble, I brace my abused hands down and pull out with as much vigor as I had to muster. I had to tell myself, no matter the strain placed on my leg, that staying would not save me. I have to escape, and I have to find Aki and Yuzo. I can't simply abandon my childhood friends.
  
  There was a loud pop that came after my leg was released from the painful hold, and I screamed. Oh, how I wish to see. I could feel hot ash brush under my face, in my hair. I tried so horribly to leep them away; I must've been pathetic.
  > go find Aki and Yuzo.
  Slowly, I have gotten through much of the debris, though troubling. At the moment, my mind was set upon my two friends. If I was in such a wretched state, what was of them?
  
  "Y-Yuzo! Can you hear me! Please answer me!"
  
  They could've been buried in debris...
  > go find help.
  I decide to find someone to help, someone who has better eyes and can see more than me. Someone who could tell me whether my friends have made it through; I would not make it without it.
  
  "Is anybody out there?! Anyone?! Please, answer me!" 
  
  For a long time, there is no response, and suddenly a "Who's there?". It was a deep voice, like one's father would have. Then, a hand touching my shoulder. "My god, boy! You shouldn't be walking! You have a deep laceration in your side! And your eyes..."
  
   
  > say "Please, we need to find my friends."
  He was silent as a grave, looking at me with sad eyes. "Kid, you're a miracle to be alive yourself. Your friends have a ghost of a chance. A ghost of a chance, I'm telling you."
  > say "No, you're wrong! Dammit, you're wrong!"
  My face scrunches with anger, my aching eyes glaring. "Damn it, they are fine! They could be alive! You need to save all of the people alive right?! No matter the stakes! No matter anything!"
  
  "Kid, calm down. You'll only hurt yourself."
  
  "How can I be calm when...!"
  
  The man was right - I think I'd fainted in the prime of my cursing and ranting. '
  
   
  
  ...This is where it will truly begin.
  > end of Prolouge
   
  In 1954, Zempaphs were introduced into life; these newborns had contracted Schizophrenia Morphi, a specific type that allows into the baby a new part of the brain to use - almost like a locked door being opened up with a new key. Most are born insane, it's said, but out of every ten, there is a good three that have no symptoms of brain defunctions. Of course, only an estimated three hundred are recorded to date.
  
  Of this small group through billions of the Earth's people, they are gifted with unusual abilities. Normally, telepathic abilities and telekenesis -- even more than those as well. They are normally instantly noticed at birth because they are born feeble; and the Umbilical cord detaches around five hours before birth. We speculate that that is because the brains oxygen lowers, except the part of the brain that can perform the Zempaph abilities that then 'vacuum' stronger brain cells - the many accelerated during the fetus phase - and use it to boost its power in the last moments.
  
  Most births have proven fine to the mother - no miscarriages or mothers dying have yet to be seen. Now, the whole Zempaph debate (on whether to take more special... 'precautions'...) is in 1983, when one in certain, a young boy, had murdered his fellow classmates in Gates Elementary School. It spawned the Zempaph Hazard and Confinement Law, which would immediately put any one of the specimen into special classes to undergo brain alterations. In this way, they would not be as unstable, and the chance of murder is cut in half. When they brake laws, they are confined to special rooms.
  
  Some people thought it wrong, but it had more support than protest.
  
  The next incident... one of the most horrific incidents ever recorded in human history... would be The Devil's Act. In this, one Zempaph in specific had went on a rampage and destroyed cities near Canada... Chicago being a major one. Thousands or thousands had died from one: Julian Moore. He was around twenty-seven when the whole thing occured in 1989, using a manipulation of fire to destroy everything in sight. We still don't know if he is a 'Fire Manipulator' or a 'Fire Starter'. Fire Manipulators can bend an already lit fire, while a Starter can make it from components in the air.   
  
  Moore was taken down by the local police, but he was never found nor known to be dead. In fact, we think he is very well alive, surfing the State of the Union. We don't know if he's still dangerous, or if the insanity that drove him is gone.
  
  --Doctor Elaine J. Rechell
  
  Chapter One: Bana-Jxo
  > chapter One.
  Chapter One: Bana - Jxo
  
  Er wartet auf den Mittagswind
  die Welle kommt und legt sich matt
  mit einem Fächer jeden Tag
  der Alte macht das Wasser glatt
  
  Ich werf den Stein zu meinem Spaß
  das Wasser sich im Kreis bewegt
  der Alte sieht mich traurig an
  und hat es wieder glatt gefegt
  
  Im weißen Sand der alte Mann
  zitternd seine Pfeife raucht
  nur das Wasser und ich wissen
  wozu er diesen Fächer braucht
  
  Die Ahnung schläft wie ein Vulkan
  zögernd hab ich dann gefragt
  den Kopf geneigt es schien er schläft
  hat er bevor er starb gesagt
  
  Das Wasser soll dein Spiegel sein
  erst wenn es glatt ist, wirst du sehen
  wieviel Märchen dir noch bleibt
  und um Erlösung wirst du flehen
  
  Den Fächer an den Leib gepresst
  im Todeskrampf erstarrt die Hand
  die Finger mussten sie ihm brechen
  der Fächer bleibt zurueck im Sand
  
  Den Alten ruf ich jeden Tag
  er möchte mich doch hier erlösen
  ich bleib zurück im Mittagswind
  und in dem Fächer kann ich lesen
  
  Das Wasser soll dein Spiegel sein
  erst wenn es glatt ist, wirst du sehen
  wieviel Märchen dir noch bleibt
  und um Erlösung wirst du flehen.
  
                      --Rammstein
  > begin.
  Toronto
  
  4.14. 1994
  
  A lanky figure had spread itself out on the park bench of Toronto, a newspaper masking away his face, only showing a mass of red hair popping out from the top. His foot tapped a perpetual beat of three clicks, his eyes reading the words covering his face.
  
  "Oh wow... another speculation about Julian Moore. I've become quite famous ever since that little squabble." he said in a soft, almost sweet voice. He lifted his hand, and twirled it slightly to create a splinter of fire in his palm. "Curses." he laughed, "It's funny, actually."
  
  In truth, he felt a little bored.
  
  Health:   100
  
  Money: 5
  
  Level:  1