I stand before a corpse, me, your narrator. Admittedly a fit of rage succumbed me, taking the life of this innocent boy. The thought of him possibly being of use to me was less consuming than the threat of him too betraying me. Maybe I just wanted to get my hands dirty. He was scrawny, and his glasses sat on the floor, cracked and broken. The smell of charred skin- cooked from my electric chair- burned my nostrils. He didn't have the stomach for this world and getting rid of him wouldn't keep me up at night. I wondered what his name was or if he had a mother at home waiting for a son that wasn't coming home. My brain is somewhere else. Instead of productivity I wasted good flesh and blood. What a terrible first impression this author is putting me in. Maybe if I was real I would feel something about this situation except I recently realized I am not in control over my own life as I had previously thought. All the names I've been called, all the lives that I've taken- none of it was real. I am not real. So before we go down this road, dear readers, I ask you what makes someone human? Where and how do you draw the line of what is good and what is bad? Is it the mere thought or intentions or is it your actions? Do you simply get to choose who is irredeemable? Is that within your own jurisdiction to decide? I ask you this because this is a story about finding yourself and those who blur the line. Does who you root for make you just as bad? Is it hypocritical to want the power I give but hate the creator? Are you desperate enough to have your mundane life mean something that you'd sell yourself to me? Do you want to be remembered? Don't you want to feel special? In the present day I bury an old friend, the bridge between the undead world and the Insurgence world, and the insider that kept the humans from starting a war they cannot win. I don't have many opinions on the subject, just a consistent pounding in my brain in place of real emotion. I learned today that his position as sheriff was to be replaced by Reece Gordon, a cowardly man and traitor. Reece wasn't a man of authority he's the two-legged pet of his she-demon wife Amanda. I suppose it would be easy to control someone as spineless as he is but having the Gordon's back in my life made me tingly considering our history. 'The underbelly of Maine's Insurgence: started by a high school senior and his friends that betrayed him.' What a story that would be- perhaps you would be able to see that I'm not a monster like this story will make me out to be, but I suppose that's why I'm not meant to have my own story. The fact of the matter is a few recognize real genius and James Colson's way of making up for his treasonous choice was letting me take whoever I wanted without a peep from the police. This of course drove the state crazy when their children would go missing without a trace, but I could choose to do more damage if I wanted. My only wish is for dear Reece to refrain from trying to be a hero while his wife keeps him on a leash. He must have no pride, undead's with no pride always interfered with battles too big for them. I could see it now: me putting Reece out of his misery. I bet he'd appreciate getting away from that beast that sleeps beside him since I could relate- I've been there. I can understand the thought process. The story has started and I so rudely have not introduced myself: my name is Martin Gence. One day the name will excite you. I apologize for my thoughts not being in order. You will see all I can offer you but you will not side with me because that would make you evil too, I presume? Do not worry I understand my role within this story and will attempt to not overstep my position even though I feel I've been set up to fail. Do you really believe that someone with the motive of jumpstarting human evolution, and curing all diseases and ailments a villain? I stop emotions that would hold you back and give incredible power to undeads who don't deserve it which makes me a lover of humanity. My case is simply how many times have you craved for something to happen to you in your life? How many times have you focused on an object and wanted it to just move? I could give it all to you. I could cure you. And yet I am burdened with the responsibility to make you all hate me. If you ever did find yourself wishing for that sort of power, look at yourself. And then look at me. I suppose it is my nature, all I am created to do is terrorize. That is a theme throughout these chapters: what could I have been if things weren't the way they are? Sacrifices must be made for greatness, for forging empires and making history. In truth I am being wasted and taken advantage of. I have an insulting rebellion that has no way of taking me down when in a way I always win. They escape in whatever way they can but every step they take they wonder if it is one I allow or the last one they will ever take. They may live freely but only in fear of if I'm watching and what I will do if I catch them. I crawl around the deepest, darkest depths of their brains like a parasite, and that fear will always keep me alive. I haunt their dreams and hide under their bed and they wonder if I'm listening. They can't live peacefully and are stuck restless and paranoid by the thought of me taking it all away. I am the itch they cannot scratch, the the unsettled pit in their stomach, with dominion over what all living things in this world have: the mind. How could you be safe from me? Unless you put yourself out of your own misery, your last moment will be spent thinking of me. It makes me smile. A very long time ago, Reece Gordon stole something from me. I've been waiting a long time to get it back. Welcome to the Insurgence.