StarCraft 1. A Strange, Literaly Empathy

StarCraft: Evacuation

Chapter 1: A Strange, Literal Empathy

A home, shattered. A family, disseminated, both emotionally, and physically. A memory that shall forever last in my waking memory, consuming my thoughts of trauma, abuse, fear, and strife. This is not a biography. Nor is this a recounting of the past events, traumas, and atrocities that I have had the primary experience of. This is just a look at how I actually survived the travesty that was Terat, a tragedy of an event that took place for me, more than 20 years ago.

Terat was, is, and will always be my home, even if it is overrun with the scum of the entire fucking galaxy. And no, I don't mean the Zerg; they can't help it, even though this does not change the fact that they have killed billions, if not, trillions of my race. No, who, _no_, _what_ I'm referring to, are the invaders that took my home, my education, my food, and every other thing that I have ever loved and cherished, **away** from me, as well as my "relatives," and "friends." I am referring to the notorious, endangered, and explicitly dangerous Protoss. Yes, I mean every word of what I've said, and I mean it in that way because they indeed _**did**_ take my home away from me. Most know how the story goes: the _picosecond_ that Zerg life is found on a planet, you can bet every credit you have that the Protoss will be on the planet's doorstep within a matter of minutes, with an entire armada (ironic that people believe that they're endangered) ready to incinerate and eviscerate any and all life on the planet, for fear that the "Zerg Virus" may have infected them.

I completely understand the ramifications of being infected by the Zerg virus; I am not ignorant of its effects, in fact, I lost a loved one to the illustrious bug. However, I still cannot wrap my head around how _any_ being of this or any other universe could ever possibly, insuperably feel justified in the complete genocide of an entire species. The Protoss call it "cleansing," I call it the "Zergacaust." Yes, I did allude to the horrors of WWII, which took place 600 years prior; I'm not ignorant, like I said. I am completely aware of the emotions tied to that allusion, but when I do allude to it, I do not think of people feeling empathy towards the genocide of the Zerg; I feel that people will think about something that happened more than half a millennium ago. Don't get me wrong, both events were, are, and will always be terrible, but the fact that people choose to lose their shit over something that happened a long time ago, rather than what's happening now, is honestly audacious to me.

I am also aware of the fact that my own race has destroyed faith in itself with the numerous "inhumane" (humans are already terrible, and you're calling it "inhumane?") experiments that _it_ has conducted upon the helpless, hive-minded Zerg. Believe me, I feel just as much contempt for my own race as I do for the Protoss. Well, perhaps the reason as to _why_ I feel this way about both races is because I am no longer a part of one of these races, only in short increments. Yes, I am infested, but part of my humanity, through my infamous psionic abilities (even better than that of Sarah Kerrigan and Nova Terra combined), have allowed me to keep a connection with a shadow of my former human conscience. To the Zerg, and to the other two races, I am known as the King of Blades, "husband" to the long-deceased Queen of Blades, who I had never had the esteemed pleasure of meeting (I'm about 50 years her junior). Before my infestation, I was commonly known Victor Gordon, the son of an escaped UED soldier, evidently settling on the edge of Dominion Space, on a planet called Terat. There, my story obviously begins.


	2. Hazy Memories

Chapter 2: Hazy Memories

I was born on Friday, June 15th, 2525, at Valerian Mengsk Memorial Hospital, in Fantasia, Terat. For those that are unaware, the city is named Fantasia because of the fact that she is Valerian Mengsk's daughter. The current ruler at the time of my birth was Valerian Mengsk, a beloved ruler and friend of James Raynor, of whom I'm unsure if he was a terrorist or liberator.

During the time at which I was growing up, due to the new laws passed by Mengsk's administration, I was not taken away to any training camp because of my vast psionic abilities. As a child, I was able to not only read minds, but extract, plant, augment, and fabricate information. I also possessed adept telekinetic abilities, rivaling, if not trumping those of Sarah Kerrigan and Nova Terra. I thank the Dark Voice every day that I was not taken away to those hell-holes that the Dominion used to use, merely tossing away mental abilities like that like they were trifles. My third and final ability was the fact that I had, and still have, an extremely high IQ, an IQ of 1,000 points. At the time, and most likely currently, I have held the highest IQ ever attained by a human (the Protoss deem this IQ "low"); the next highest IQ score being held by Killian Richards, a citizen of Earth (I was able to access his mind, apparently, through my psionic abilities).

I have a family of five, including myself, my father (Tanner Gordon), my mother (Beatra Sing), my younger sister (Valencia Sing), and my twin (Allen Gordon). I have been the oldest in my family and, therefore, have taken all the responsibilities around the house as a child. Due to my high IQ and hidden psionic tendencies, I was placed in higher education, college-level learning that was an achievement for the most pristine learner. Throughout my education, I attended one school, and one school alone: Raynor College. This, unbeknownst to most who do not live on the edge of Dominion Space, is the most prestigious center for higher education that any person in general could ever hope to attend, even surpassing the then-vast knowledge of Earth's Stanford University (Mengsk's administration had reconnected with the UED and signed a formal treaty, ending the involvement of the UED in the Second Great War). Due to my age, I was frequently bullied; due to this, I was ubiquitously forced to use my psionic powers in secret to gain comeuppance for the bullies' crimes. Thankfully, no one had ever suspected that their spray-on shirt had been used up, or that the information needed to pass a test had simply vanished, due to my tampering.

My life had been great, and still is, but that singular part of my life still troubles me: the Protoss Invasion of Terat. This attack only added flames to the Second Great War, nearly costing all humans and Protoss that were involved, their lives. This occurred because of the Dominion Charter issued to the Protoss, stating that all Zerg infections stemming from Dominion Space were subject to the Terrans' immediate and swift destruction; needless to say, the Protoss violated the terms of this treaty monumentally quickly, setting off a chain of events, as said before, that led to the genocide of nearly half the human and Protoss population residing at least a 100 trillion miles from the original Terran haven, Earth.

Although the invasion is hazy to me, fragments of the attack are returning to me, haunting my dreams (yes, some Zerg organisms sleep). Strangely enough, I remember the exact date upon which the Protoss attacked: my 15th birthday, Wednesday, June 15th, 2540. The Protoss style did not dissipate from the attack either: the menace had brought 100,000 carriers, all loaded with interceptors, to completely envelope the planet in ash and destruction. It almost seems funny to me: the Protoss were actually attempting to justify their attack on the planet (it took about a day for Dominion battlecruisers to mobilize), saying that they had found that the planet was 99.3% infected, which was obviously a lie. Eccentrically, Zerg DNA had been found on the planet a day before the invasion, but honestly, if the Protoss had found _that_ much Zerg DNA on the planet, I would have noticed, and they would have attacked a _long_, _long_ time ago.


	3. I-Origins

Chapter 3: I-Origins

I-Day is the common slang or term for the day that the Protoss invaded Terat; now, I _probably _know what you're thinking: "**Plenty** of Dominion planets have been attacked by the Protoss, countless times too; why would people have a term for this _one_ attack?" Well, to answer your question, this invasion is characterized as important because it was the first attack on a Dominion world by the Protoss since the beginning of the Second Great War; at the time of the attack, it had been close to 35 years since the war actually started, making this attack, _extremely_, _**explicitly**_ important. It's also infamous for the chain of events that it set in motion: as mentioned before, the entire genocide of half the Protoss and Terrans at the hands of each other (the two races were actually dim-witted enough to have their own little war while the larger war was taking place). Need_ful_ to say, the Protoss and Terrans eventually won the Second Great War, defeating the Dark Voice, and bringing "peace" to the galaxy, and universe.

Some people, especially me, believe that I-Day had been in the works for years, possibly even decades before the actual attack. Others, naïve in my opinion, believe that I-Day was for the simple "fact" that Terat had indeed come down with an epidemic of the Zerg Virus. Allow me to explain my point of view (yes, I'm that pompous; get fucking used to it): if I-Day had been authorized even a week in advance, I find it extremely odd that the Protoss, even with their light-speed technology, could reach the edge of Dominion space (Terat is located on the opposite side of Dominion Space, meaning that the Protoss would have to go around or through Terran territory to access the planet) within that time limit. Also, it's no new jig that planets get infected by the Zerg; this literally happens every month. Because of the charter issued by the Dominion, they had the full and insuperable right and obligation to, again, "cleanse" the planet of the "bug." This cleansing had gone on for more than 30 years, ever since Valerian Mengsk took office. Why would the Protoss so aimlessly travel into Terran territory and completely wipe out the planet when other planets were obviously worse than the case of my home?

Now, you may rebut that the Protoss must have had _some_ idea of what would transpire after the surprise attack, although I don't believe that the Protoss necessarily thought that mass genocide of their already small population would occur. You may say that the Protoss were willing and ready to take on the Terrans, possibly because of the notion that the Protoss believed that the humans were no different compared to the Zerg. The humans, in the eyes of the Protoss, were a cancer of the universe: they never adapted to their surroundings; they adapted their surroundings to them. This was contrary to the plight of the Protoss, which high and mightily believed that it was to be the sole savior of the entire universe, cleansing space of not only one epidemic of detrimental life forms, but two. This, like the Zergacaust, would be genocide. Although on a much smaller scale compared to the Zerg, it would not change the fact that it would be cold, desolate _**genocide**_.

I will now describe the invasion in tremendous detail, since I find that my "fragmented" memory is rearing its ugly and geriatric head yet again. The invasion began at exactly 12:00 A.M., Terat Fantasian Time, on Wednesday, June 15th, 2540. The incineration took all but one month (it would've taken two weeks, had the Dominion battlecruisers not come to the "rescue"), giving myself, _not_ my family, enough time to evacuate the planet and continue a "normal" life. The second the carriers had graced the atmosphere, my parents were up and about, getting us out of our beds, and telling us to "get your **fucking **asses out of the house and get in the speeder." This came as quite a surprise to both of my siblings, while I had been patiently waiting for this, planning and biding my time: there would be no way I could factor my "loving" family into my escape plan. Yeah, I'm a dick, but I'm a smart dick. As we dressed in the closest and easiest-to-get-into clothes we could find (some grey shirts and black pants), we rushed out into the darkness, jumping into the speeder like it was a game. We were young: my twin was 15, and my sister was 10. As we slowly absorbed the situation, as well as the soon-to-be carnage that was residing around us, we felt as if we were going on an adventure, or at least, _they_ felt like they were going on an adventure. My hair was a mess, but my brain was working at a trillion miles a minute. I quickly adapted my escape route to the environment at hand, telling myself that I **had** to find a way to leave the speeder and acquire my father's old gauss rifle.

To escape from the car, I informed my parents of the food and supplies that we would be needing for our trip; being the "intelligent" people that they were, and enjoying the trust of their traitor-son, I left the speeder, waiting for them to leave. They eventually had to leave the area; zerglings were un-burrowing from the ground and rallying to a specific drone, where they would begin their occupation to neutralize the Protoss. I don't blame them for leaving; it's better that 80% of the family survive than none at all, or so they thought. Thinking quickly, I entered my father's study, entered the code to open his bottom drawer (the code is 32280), and stole the gauss rifle, along with a few rounds and belts of ammo. Using my psionic abilities, I was able to hijack a zergling and successfully maneuver it away from its kin, riding it back to the house to prepare for my departure. In all, it took me all of a month to escape from the planet, due to the fact that there were some complications along the way. Capturing the zergling, I nestled him in the basement of the house, making sure to keep a strong domination over his weak, semi-sentient mind.

Now, I had to wait: the only way to escape the planet would be to best the Zerg and stow away on a Protoss ship; however, I wouldn't be able to do that. There's too small of a chance that any Protoss ship would be able to leave Terat airspace once the Dominion arrived. In order to complete this escape mission, I would either have to depart before or after the counterattack by the Dominion. If I were to interject an escape plan during the counterattack, I would probably have a 0.1% chance of escaping the atmosphere, due to the fact that the Dominion wouldn't let any potentially infected citizen spread the virus across its many territories. I will now wait to escape the planet, looking for the smallest window from which I will depart. I _will_ get through this, even if I have to get infested to do so.


	4. Anarchy

Chapter 4: Anarchy

As most of you realists might of and will have probably guessed, just hours after the surprise attack, the world's government entered a state of anarchy, a state in which all socialized and federal services were suspended, except for evacuation services. The services were based off of a first-come, first-serve basis (yes, you didn't have to pay; there are five socialized services on Terat: food, shelter, water, healthcare, and transportation). Of course, I couldn't, or wouldn't be able to attend any nearby evacuation-stations; the chance of escaping the atmosphere (they were guaranteeing a 12-hour period between the departure of the surface and the escape of the atmosphere) with the magnitude of the invasion described would be much too insubstantial to take a chance. Because of this, I was forced to find another means of escape: the zergling that I had hijacked was just the beginning.

As I was exploring my decaying environment, I sensed my classmates and colleagues not too far away. Naturally, they had adapted to their surroundings, and were now looking for "unsuspecting" civilians to help in the resistance against the attack, as well as possibly garner a chance off of their decomposing landscape. They were partially aware of my psionic abilities (I may be smart, but even I'm ignorant as to when to stop using them before I get in over my enormously large ego and head), and took their chance to use me. To subdue me, they used a gauss rifle that they had gleaned, shooting my zergling five times. Inherently, I fell off the zergling onto my head, and "unconsciously" waited for my captors to take hold of me. A few minutes later, they jolted me with a slight shock to make me stir; once this was done, they began ordering me around; I knew I had to find a way to utilize the situation to my advantage. The head of their group at the time was a senior at my college, by the name of Allen Worthing. Because of his likability and "openness," it would seem obvious that he'd be the prime candidate to lead their little cabbage patch.

Allen was aware of how intelligent I was, and was intent on using that to his, _not_ his group's advantage (yes, I'm a hypocrite; what are you going to do about it?). This intuitive information would be useful for phase one of my escape plan: I was going to inform every one of his true intentions. "So, Allen-," I said. "That's Mr. Worthing to you, freshfuck," he retorted. "Sorry, _Mr. Worthing_, if I may ask, what is your plan to help everyone escape this planet?" He was thinking quickly; from that one statement, he had been informed of my true intentions; he wasn't as ignorant as I thought... "Well, for starters, you should follow my orders. I'm obviously the most well-to-do and able person here, yes, even more so than you; why are you questioning me?" "Just curious, just curious," I calmly interjected. It was going to take **much **more than that to arouse the group to his "plans." To arouse suspicion, I began talking to my classmates, broaching the thought of his betrayal to the large populous; they listened to me because of the fact that I was a freshman in college at the age of 15.

For those that are unaware, a child usually graduates from high school on Terat at the age of 22, because a citizen of Terat is required to be able to speak at least 3 languages, as well as pass the courses of Calculus AB, BC, and CD. He or she is also required to accomplish a slew of other things, of which I will not continue to elaborate on.

Over the next few nights, I slowly aroused suspicion, by projecting fake thoughts into other people's minds while they slept, thoughts including those that forced people to wonder about Allen's true colors. Gradually, but surely, I single-handedly started a mini-rebellion against his leadership; soon, I would control the crowd, and lead them to the same fate, but in a more discrete fashion. To continue lobbying dissension and opposition towards him, I began forcing people to create fake memories of the times that he had been disingenuous and, overall, detrimental to certain, integral causes in their lives. I also made people hallucinate him committing vile acts against their colleagues (they're all too scared to say anything). Finally, while they were dreaming, I forced them into a state of fake reality, making it feel as though Allen were giving a speech, detailing his true plans of escape. This was the final straw, and the group had decided to take him out to the garage of the house we were all staying at (there were about 50 of us, it was a large house). At this garage, we castrated him by gauss rifle, water-boarded him, and made him go completely insane (courtesy of my psionic powers). Finally, we slit his wrists and neck, and shot him in the head; we also broke his neck for good measure. Everyone was forced to watch by me; my reason was to view the punishment of those who defect from the group.

Everyone was thoroughly frightened into submission by our methods of draconian torture; before and while we were committing the torture, Allen was begging for mercy, as well as cursing us out. We enjoyed watching him die and then eating his remains. And, with that, I had become the leader of the group; in the period of just one week, I had single-handedly surmounted the leadership of the group, and was in a prime position to take it straight to hell. So, I did. However, I'm going to have to be much quicker than one week in order to escape this planet; only three left to go...


	5. A Team of Fits

Chapter 5: A Team of Fits

It's very interesting how at the end of their lives, people show you who they actually were, are, and were going to be. Allen is obviously a prime example of this thesis. At the end of his life, this is what we surmised of him: instead of being an open, caring, and forthcoming individual, Allen was a misfit who was just in it for himself, and had been hiding many secrets, of which we (well, at least my colleagues), would never uncover. Now, it was my time to take charge: step one was to establish that I, and only I could be the leader. If anyone else made a claim to the dictatorship I now held, I would have to kill them, without clemency. As the second week of my plan progressed, I began ordering subordinates to go out during the day and kill innocent people (I justified this with our own survival; the only problem was, I had to keep the death toll under 50 people, to make it seem as though the majority had power over the minority), hijacking their vehicles. I was well aware of the fact that the final federal evacuation ship was going to be leaving at the end of the week, and that those left on the planet were going to die, unless they had a plan themselves.

With each murder, my team became more wary of their survival: they had never killed before, thankfully. Because of this, I knew that I could trust them; they were all pussies. What scared me though, was the fact that they started having monstrous nightmares; so, starting on the Monday of that week (June 20th), I began to work with their minds, not only keeping them from having such nightmares, but also imbuing them with propaganda suited towards keeping my power. It amazes me as to how weak the human mind actually is, compared to the "human spirit." That is why I see them as all the same; I keep their uniqueness in mind in order to achieve the greater goal, but after this type of exposure to my colleagues, I realize that they are very similar to each other in every possible fashion. People like to surround themselves with the notion that they are all individuals, each capable in different fields; in reality, that idea couldn't be further from the truth. No one is free; all professions are decided at birth, subconsciously. It's pathetic, really, how the human mind works, and yet, sweet at the same time.

The second way in which I was going to drive them into the ground was by malnourishing them, both physically and mentally. As part of the dream-propaganda, I destroyed their sense of self-esteem, essentially making dependent on my approval. The way in which I damaged them physically was by hurting them for every _single_ mistake they made: If they didn't kill someone fully, they wouldn't get dinner for that night. If they forgot to pay their homage to me, they wouldn't be able to sleep. Slowly, but surely, I took away their sanity, making them weaker over the course of the week. I wouldn't be surprised if some of them began plotting to kill me viciously; I was in control of their dreams, so I had viewed their growing hatred towards me. To stem it just long enough (I was going to use their anger against themselves), I blocked those ideas from their conscious minds. By the end of the week, they were practically ready to kill themselves. I know I have a sadistic mind, but I suppose that's what happens when you've never had any friends.


	6. Fantasia's Reckoning

Chapter 6: Fantasia's Reckoning

On my last day as the team leader, just for the "fun" of it, I read everyone's minds. Most, if not all, had hostile feelings not only towards me, but towards _everyone_. Due to my subconscious tampering, people seemed to formulate arguments in their own minds as to why other people were causing their physical and emotional pain. Despite their anger towards each other, I found it inherent that they would have hatred towards me; they obviously did. However, I noticed something else too, about their gumptions towards me: they _loved_ **and** hated me, at the same time. They looked to me as a leader, a farmer who would tend to his sheep, and tell them that everything would be "okay," at least for the farmer. They thought to themselves that as long as they did everything I told them to do (10 people died under my reign, and people still listened to me like the sheep they were, are, and will always be), they would find solace and comfort in the notion of escape and survival. It's simply audacious to me how the human mind would rather believe a blatant and fatal lie that is beautiful, rather than the subtle yet obvious truth that would be ugly but, at the same time, save its life.

As my last set of orders during the day of my departure, I told everyone that I wanted to check on the project (I wanted to keep it as a surprise for you) that they had all been working on: assembling 10 Vikings for us all to escape in (since there were 40 of us left, and no one had actually checked the capacity of a Viking before, this was the perfect plan). Of course, I couldn't let anyone escape: they would eventually catch on as to what my _real_ plan was: the deaths of anyone I encountered. The reason behind that involved my deep distrust for everyone I met; this was complementary to the circumstances. As the leader of the group, I planned for myself to depart first; the second step of this plan was to act as if I was scouting for any Zerg creatures. Of course, this was a ruse, a ruse that I'm glad that no one got caught on. What was actually going to take place was the rallying of Zerg troops in order to raid the household, as well as kill any team members that might still be alive. In order to keep them in the house, I would send them telepathic signals saying that they should wait until I eradicate any Zerg I encounter. Once the plan was executed, it couldn't have gone more swimmingly. Most, if not all of my colleagues were dead, and I was piloting a Viking to a possible escape route. What happened next further complicated my plans...

In the first week of the invasion, the Protoss had finally reached the surface of the planet, and were now orchestrating numerous ground assaults against not only the Zerg infestation, but the citizens of the planet as well. Now, I may have been a cold-hearted bastard to have killed my whole brigade to save my own skin, but I was, and still am a nostalgic lover of my home planet, as anyone would be. The sight of the devastation of innocent people that I could **tell **were not infested deeply infuriated me. I may have an IQ of 1,000, but that doesn't mean that my emotions don't get the best of me sometimes; I just show no emotion in the face of saving myself. Or, perhaps, this was just a lie I was telling myself: maybe this was just a sentimental reason, covering up the fact that I knew that if the Protoss were already presenting a problem just miles from me, I was going to eventually have to deal with them. Hell, I hate being lied to, even if it _is _to protect my damaged psyche.

As I was approaching the Protoss' position, they noticed my aircraft straightaway, and dispatched Phoenixes to destroy it. I also saw this as an opportunity to further my escape plan: I would be able to hide in the base and wait for Dominion troops to arrive. In order to stop them killing me for the chance of me being infested, I would control their minds and force them to take me to a nearby Medivac, where I would be carted off into space and, away from this madness. Honestly, even if I am currently the most intelligent human in the universe, it baffles me as to how traumatizing it is to me to watch people be split down the middle by a Zealot's psi blade. The depressing part about it is, it was happening all too often during the occupation of my home planet.


End file.

StarCraft, Angst, Sci-Fi