It’s been a hard few years since the Second Calamity in Rayvale. The city—once a gleaming symbol of progress—now lies in ruins. Skyscrapers that used to pierce the clouds stand as hollowed-out husks, their shattered glass and twisted metal a grim reminder of what we lost. Innocent lives were snuffed out that day, and even more fell in the chaos that followed.
And us? The Gifted—those born or woke up with powers we never asked for? Of course, we were blamed. Fear is a powerful thing, and when people are scared, they look for someone to blame. In the pandemonium, we did what we could. We got some of our people out, scattering them into the shadows, hiding them where the government couldn’t find them. But it cost us.
Fractured and hunted, we splintered into small groups just to survive. Tactical teams formed to scavenge food, steal supplies, and—when we could—free those who’d been collared. What’s a collared? Government tech designed to suppress powers, to turn us into nothing more than ghosts of who we are and servants to their will. Even our small victories felt hollow.
The government isn’t resting. They’ve reorganized, rebuilt their armies, and equipped them with new technology specifically designed to capture us. Worse still, they’ve learned how to turn us against each other. Our people—our brothers and sisters—brainwashed into weapons for their regime. Some of them are made into sleepers, hiding among us, waiting for orders to strike.
Trust has become a fragile, dangerous thing. Paranoia runs deep in the shadows where we live.
But hiding? That’s no way to live. Scraping by on scraps, clinging to hope like a frayed rope—it’s not enough. It was never enough. If we’re going to survive, we have to do more than just endure.
We have to fight back.
That’s why we formed this new cell. A team of tactical specialists, united by purpose. Named Beacon’s Edge. We’re determined to bring the Gifted back together, to stand against the government’s oppression, and to reclaim the future they tried to steal from us.
And we’re hoping you’re ready to join us.
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If you are, we’ll need some information. Yeah, yeah, I know. Formalities. But it’s important.
First: What’s your name? Full government name, if you don’t mind. Don’t worry—we’ll use your fancy nickname for everything else.
Second: How old are you? We don’t take kids. It’s a hard rule.
Third: Are you a normie or one of us? If you’re Gifted, what’s your power?
Fourth: Why are you fighting? Are you a strategist, infiltrator, or the muscle?
And finally: Are you ready to risk it all to build a better future?
This isn’t an easy life. But if you’re still listening to this, something tells me you’re ready to fight for what’s right. We need you.
What do you say?
And us? The Gifted—those born or woke up with powers we never asked for? Of course, we were blamed. Fear is a powerful thing, and when people are scared, they look for someone to blame. In the pandemonium, we did what we could. We got some of our people out, scattering them into the shadows, hiding them where the government couldn’t find them. But it cost us.
Fractured and hunted, we splintered into small groups just to survive. Tactical teams formed to scavenge food, steal supplies, and—when we could—free those who’d been collared. What’s a collared? Government tech designed to suppress powers, to turn us into nothing more than ghosts of who we are and servants to their will. Even our small victories felt hollow.
The government isn’t resting. They’ve reorganized, rebuilt their armies, and equipped them with new technology specifically designed to capture us. Worse still, they’ve learned how to turn us against each other. Our people—our brothers and sisters—brainwashed into weapons for their regime. Some of them are made into sleepers, hiding among us, waiting for orders to strike.
Trust has become a fragile, dangerous thing. Paranoia runs deep in the shadows where we live.
But hiding? That’s no way to live. Scraping by on scraps, clinging to hope like a frayed rope—it’s not enough. It was never enough. If we’re going to survive, we have to do more than just endure.
We have to fight back.
That’s why we formed this new cell. A team of tactical specialists, united by purpose. Named Beacon’s Edge. We’re determined to bring the Gifted back together, to stand against the government’s oppression, and to reclaim the future they tried to steal from us.
And we’re hoping you’re ready to join us.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you are, we’ll need some information. Yeah, yeah, I know. Formalities. But it’s important.
First: What’s your name? Full government name, if you don’t mind. Don’t worry—we’ll use your fancy nickname for everything else.
Second: How old are you? We don’t take kids. It’s a hard rule.
Third: Are you a normie or one of us? If you’re Gifted, what’s your power?
Fourth: Why are you fighting? Are you a strategist, infiltrator, or the muscle?
And finally: Are you ready to risk it all to build a better future?
This isn’t an easy life. But if you’re still listening to this, something tells me you’re ready to fight for what’s right. We need you.
What do you say?