Caesar Tin-U
Ms. Cox
English Per. 5
3 February 2007
Generation XX (Pronounced “X-2”)
Acid Snake sighed, and took a deep breath of the trite air, quickly spatting it back out as he inhaled it. The air was supposedly “freshly recycled,” but after so many years of breathing the same recycled air, it eventually lost the freshness nature had given it.
=Flashback=
The year is 2000 and 50.3145968. Women have taken over the world and forced all male, or nearly male, beings to live underground. But this was before the Great Plague #2, when the a certain trait in all males were to be targeted and destroyed by a single virus.
Female superiority has drastically increased due to one (stupid) politician fighting against the supreme court for women's rights... and won. Well, that is what the history books say at lest. But that was not the only factor behind the rise of female superiority. Some (female) scientist, after successfully cloning and fully mapping the human “hidden” genome, decided to create a viral infection that will only target and kill the most derivative function of the male species... the dominant male, banal gene.
Though trivial at first, the elimination of the banal gene gave the female species something they had always wanted. It eliminated the potato couch husbands, practically killed off all of the vapid celebrity actors, and made men shopping with other women a prosaic commonplace. In fact it became so sickening to see males shopping with other females, malls had to be reformatted so that certain clothing stores, beauty salons, and specialty stores were restricted to only females.
Then, the males started “dying”. Only two years after being infected by the Banal Virus, males started showing the final side-effects of the infection. To keep it simple, males' psychology became female, and the women of the Earth took this opportunity and seized the ever-dominant male role.
Just the slight thought of that drastic event sent a shiver down Acid Snake's spine.
=Flashback=
It is now the year 2000 and 67.730275. This was a time of bliss, gaiety, and very little platitude. Males everywhere were essentially playing the female role, and the female playing the male role. What used to be “behind every successful man is a woman”, is now “behind every successful woman is a man.”
Those men who were lucky enough to have the resistant strand of DNA that was unaffected by the Banal Virus were all forced to live underground by the militant amazonian females. Also, those men who “survived” and are now living underground were either incredibly manly, or just simply gay.
What insipid chaos is this!?
Acid Snake was on the helicopter 2300 feet up in the air. Reading the in-flight briefing pamphlet, Acid Snake, and a few other “able men,” are supposed to infiltrate the city's headquarters, take the (female) president hostage, and finally show the now arrogant women, “Who's your Daddy?!” all before the chopper returns to ex-fill the survivors.
Snake shook his head at the poorly written briefing document and muttered under his breath, “Man, I hate these gay clichés.” A few of the surrounding squad members chuckled at the remark. “Maybe it was one of them gays that wrote it.” What a platitude remark thought Snake, while some more chuckling came from the cramped compartment. At 23:00 o'clock, the whole room was as dark as a purgatory, illuminated only by the dull, vapid red emergency lights.
“1 minute” blared the announcement in each of the squad member's headset. They were all equipped with the most scrapped-together equipment that was available from the 19th century. “If it was not for the females, I wouldn't have to be staring down at this ancient ballistic rifle.” Said Snake. The whole squad grunted in unison. Snake yet again checked his “Maverick .40 caliber” rifle, otherwise known as “M4.” It was a pretty solid piece, painted a lackluster black. Just holding the frame alone can make one understand how it survived those many years of ware and tear.
The headset blared as the crew chief yelled, “Touchdown, Go, go, go!” Special kinetic dampeners helped to cushion the fall. The entire squad charged forward the moment their feet reached “home”. They met little resistance, save for an automated wall turret that began firing at the drop ship as it slowly pulled out of harm's way.
Snake thought for sure that the alarm had been tripped, and very soon the enemy would be pouring out of rat holes all along the upper portions of the facility.
The squad charged forward throughout the facility carefully maneuvering through the maze of interlocks and hallways. Such a mundane part of the job that always had to be done, thought Snake. Just before the main airlock the squad came to a bio-electronic secure door. “Wolf, get that door open.” barked Snake over the headset. And a few moments later, Wolf came trotting forward from his rear end position, started the ripping apart the control panel to the cyber-lock interface, and hooked up his microcomputer implanted directly into his brain. A quick hack was all that was needed, and the squad entered the room cautiously.
“Its quiet... too quiet...” said one of the squad members. What a overused, hackneyed phrase that is constantly being used during base raids. Snake thought, its typical that the target point is going to be “quiet” and that the enemy is lying in wait, just ready to pounce on top of you and your squad the moment you have your backs turned.
“Shh~.” Snake motioned for the two hackers Wolf and Fox to secure the control terminal. Immediately, both of them turned on their light-distortion cloaking suits and silently vanished into thin air – the control terminal's panel being the only object strangely flying through the air, displaying numbers, letters, and illegible symbols.
Gunfire immediately erupted from a distance, Snake turned to meet the threat, but just the gunfire stopped just as fast as it had started. Checking the squad's bio-readings on screen he realized that half the Squad had disappeared. He wasn't sure if the commotion was accidental fire, or something else that might have caught the other half of the squad by surprise. Thinking that it was the ancient ballistic weapon's fault for accidentally exploding in your face sent a cold shiver down the spine.
Snake hand-motioned to continue, and the rest of the squad nodded in unison. Each of the men hit the walls for cover and two men started flanking the left corner. The main objective was to secure the president, and it was no matter if only half the squad remained. More gunfire erupted, from the left flank and the distinct sound of the Women's United Army energy weapons.
“Stop and stealth.” Snake motioned. Each of the men suddenly vanished into then air, activating the light-distortion suits. Snake took this opportunity to jump up to the ceiling, and climb right above the entrance door ready to pounce upon the first woman to walk though the door. The fight was at hand, and more than half of the squad was missing or unaccounted for.
Wolf's voice crackled over the radio. “Commander, looks like you're in a pinch.” Snake laughed sarcastically. “Yea, I am. We sacrificed half the squad and two more for your sake, now show me what you can do from your nice little video game.” Fox laughed playfully across the radio. “Just you watch.”
Suddenly, red alarm lights blared throughout the halls, and emergency fire doors slammed into place. A eerie hissing sound started sounding from the room next door, and the feminine yells of pain and anguish emanated from the air vents above. “Music to my ears,” sang Snake. The remaining squad cheered at the feat.
Fox chimed in again over the radio.
“Hey Snake, I think I got all of 'em. Well, at least I got all of 'em chicken fighters.”
“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”
“Cliché commander, cliché...~”
“Well you better cliché my ass before all hell breaks loose.”
“Fine, fine...”
A display prompt showing the map of the facility and the location of the president popped up on screen in Snake's heads up display.
“For Pete's sake boys, let head out and fetch us la presidente chica!”
To be continued...
==========
In essay chat:
zaw~ hey can you see this?
yes
me: hehehe so you have any ideas on how to end it?
me: exactily what are you typing?
i dunno
crap
i'm writing sutff
this sucks
me: lol, so far, it doesnt make sense to me :P
i hate writing
i stink at it
me:... i can see... ;x
shut up
me: lol, so seriously ... any ideas? i still have to do my other clinical writups ans spanish stff... >.<
i'm doing spanish right now
me: wow...that is great... only if i can do spanish now and finish the essay up... *sighs *
==========
Extra ideas:
As you can see, the whole format of language had practically a “total make-over” due to the new female majority.
Not only did this sudden, unforeseen psychological mishap delight females even more, (due to the deep hidden psychology of the female mind, to have practically every male friend become a girl so that she can experience all the “feelings” that males can never experience.)
-from .002 seconds to .0002 seconds.
-
END: “Man, I hate cliches ...”
---Banal
---cliché
---derivative
---hackneyed
---insipid
---lackluster
---mundane
---platitude
---prosaic
---trite
---vapid