FSE

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Before things went south, everything was peaceful.

_ The year was 2024 when it all happened. World War III had ended years prior, leaving many countries in a long state of technological advancements. Cars had become more fuel efficient, the economies in many third-world countries had boosted, and famine had reached a new low percentile. The world leaders of the world created a pact--to call an end to all wars to allow society to advance in many places of the world just in case anything bad was to happen. Reparations for the war were made by many of the world leaders and their countries. The pact held the world together for many years which allowed countries to progress without much dispute between any two who saw things differently._

_ However, it didn't stay this way though._

_ Eventually, many of the world leaders grew tired of the peace and sought out more power, money, and authority. Freedoms were stripped, sides were placed, and a new type of group rose from the outbreak. By the year 2029, they were called the Task Masters--a group that believed in absolute control over an individual and their rights and freedoms. They thought themselves above the law, the authority, and the rules, making themselves absolute rulers over their own countries and the countries they took control over. They eventually stripped the countries' people of their freedoms and made them their slaves, forcing them to work tirelessly without reason._

_ The un-corrupted world leaders saw the threat and pursued to eradicate them, trying to return the world into its peaceful state once more. And so, World War IV happened all over the globe--countries who were once friends were now enemies, allies were now forced to pick sides, and deciding who to trust became more difficult as time went on. The Task Masters and their power, however, had great power and proceeded to destroy the allies that fought against them, crushing them until they forced them to surrender and fall under their own rule. Country after country fell, governments turned into strict monarchies, and the people were turned into hard-working slaves. Only two countries stood between the Task Masters and utter global rule: Great Britain and North America._

_ North America had progressed much since the past years, lowering their obesity rate, growing their technology up more notches, then fixing their economy to the point where the poverty and unemployment rates when down significantly. New laws had been passed, granting the people more freedoms and rights while also boosting the economy with their close allies the British. They were smart as well, building up their infantry units, navy, air force, and weaponry. With the English help, both of the massive armies--who came together during WWII to defeat Hitler--thought that they were in a perfect position to make a comeback against the Task Masters._

_ They thought wrong though._

_ The full grown army, combined with the armies of the French, Spanish, Japanese, Russian, Chinese, and German Armies, in turn crushed the American-British forces until both countries were forced to surrender. On July 17th, 2032, the Task Masters won the fourth world war and established complete dominance over the entire globe, successfully claiming their rule over the entire planet after so long. As a final choice, the Task Masters decided to elect one person to rule over the entire planet alongside them--making them Overlord of Earth. That one person had absolute rule over the planet, able to veto or pass a law one of the Task Masters proposed._

_ The first Overlord was called Overlord Damien Thesper V and made his first rule: take away all the freedoms all of the independent countries and make everyone who was under the age of thirty a slave to the Task Masters and their followers--the Keepers. Anyone who was thirty and above was not did not count, nor were their children, but couples and families under the age of thirty were forced into slave labor and anyone who came into the family was as well. He abolished all of the governments of every country and made them all into monarchies, no matter how big or small they were. Keepers and Task Masters were allowed to do whatever they pleased to their slaves. Torture, beatings, rape, murder, slaughter._

_ This didn't come without retribution though. As the years went by, the people grew tired of the Keepers, the Task Masters, and the Overlord's rule. A new group rose from the rule of the new world leaders, and they were called the Revolution--a people dedicated to restoring order and peace to the world, granting the people back their freedoms they had been deprived of after so many years. At first, they started as a collection of people that started raids, drop-ins, and attacks against groups of Keepers and Task Masters, yet somehow making a name and presence of themselves in the process. The people of the world eventually saw them as they last hope of the planet, the only hope to put an end to the Overlord and his followers. So, more people eventually joined the cause, raising the numbers of the Revolution significantly in just a few short years. Yet they work underground, planning new strategies against the Overlord and his followers._

_ "The hope of the world" the people called it. They were the only thing standing between absolute rule and freedom. The Revolution worked in many different countries around the globe such as Great Britain, America, Brazil, France, Spain, Russia, Japan, and Australia. Though they were spread thin, they used this to their advantage to work silently in small numbers, raiding drop-ins, killing Keepers and liberating small parts of the country, and recruiting more people to their cause._

_ The last hope..._

_ But, this isn't where the story starts, or maybe it is, or it isn't. You decide on that. We go to a farm in America--Georgia to be precise. September 21st, 2048. On this farm live a family of three, a husband, wife, and small child. Living as far as they can from the madness of the world, and the rule of the Keepers and Task Masters, they try to live quiet lives as best they can without interaction with the outside world._

This is where we meet our protagonist or our hero if you want to call him. You'll see that he has a charming aspect despite being only twelve-years-old, almost thirteen. Life for this poor boy will never be the same in the coming days to his thirteenth birthday, which is only a day away, and the change will be more bitter than sweet.

He's a very charming boy that goes by the name of Arthur, and this is where the story--his story and others--begin.

The poor fox continued to read the thick book, wondering what secrets were held within the piece of literature. Barely a teenager, he knew much for his age. He knew about the ongoing war between the Revolution and the Overlord but didn't understand what it was about though, each time he asked his parents, they always said it was for another time when he was older.

He wondered if being thirteen was old enough.

Arthur sighed and put the book down near his nightstand, placing his arms behind his head. He looked out the window just to see what time it was. The vibrant red color of the rising sun broke through the horizon, telling the well-awake fox that it was only an hour until it was time to get to work. He had to tend to the field with his father today while his mother took stock of the crops and animals, making sure that they had enough stock to last through the winter season that was getting closer. Working the farm wasn't hard when you followed a tight schedule and knew the work by heart rather than being told by a piece of paper. Arthur had been raised like this since he could walk, learning what his father did then mimicked him while also taking note of the things his mother did just in case he needed to do her work if the time ever came.

He laid in his thin sheets wearing just some worn brown trousers and a cotton white T-shirt. Shoes weren't a need since he, along with everyone else on the planet, was anatomically correct which meant they had five fingers but with the paw-pads underneath, along with feral-like feet. The clothes where thin enough that they didn't let him burn up in the mornings or afternoons and were easy to walk around in, compared to his winter clothes.

Sighing once more, he got up from his bed and sat on the edge, rubbing the back of his neck. Seconds later did he realize what he had done. The fox gasped and looked at his hand. This wasn't good. He knew that when he rubbed the back of his neck bad things usually happened. It happened last year before spring when a tornado destroyed the seeds they had just planted and also when bandits stole some of their livestock, almost killing them two years ago. He hadn't done it before when he worked, nor when he slept or got major itches. His neck never itched unless it was something bad.

On his birthday though? What could happen before or after or on the day of his birthday? Nothing had happened like this before, so maybe it was just his nerves of becoming a teenager like most others his age. Yeah, that had to be it. Maybe it was just the nerves and nothing else.

He really hoped he was right.

The young fox lay back down until the sun came up to illuminate the once dark sky. Arthur was on his feet getting ready for the long day ahead, heading out the back door of the house towards the field. His father was prepping for the day ahead, grabbing his working gloves and his straw hat for the sun. The older fox wore a pair of jeans with a green button-up with his sleeves rolled up. He was in his late twenties along with his wife, who was heading for the farm house.

Arthur walked up to his father's work bench and grabbed his own straw hat and gloves, smiling towards his father, who smiled back warmly, patting the boy's head into a chuckle, before heading out for the field. Arthur followed closely behind him, grabbing a metal hoe off of the rack before reaching the field with his father. Not a word was spoken while they worked just grunts or soreness and long breaths with each stroke of the land. What crops they pulled in were immediately taken into the house to be stored for later use when the need came.

For hours, they tilled the land dry of all crops that had sprouted to their standards. Eventually, his father, who was named Henry, sent young Arthur into the barn to feed the animals and clean the pens. Without hesitation, he went inside to do his job as best as he could. He placed the lunch portion of the feed inside each pen, scrubbed the stalls of any mildew, and then proceeded to brush any of the non-anthro animals' coats of fur to keep them as clean as possible. For the next couple of hours, he stayed in the barn just picking up any trash, sweeping away any hay or droppings, and scrubbing the animals clean.

This was the routine he lived each and every day.

Nothing much changed really. Very rarely were there any changes his father or mother made that were unnecessary or very necessary. He reeked of sweat every day and took about a half hour shower to wipe clean of any grime and dirt that had gotten into his fur during the day. He grew to love the hard work though. Many others would hate his line of work but he didn't care. He never got paid nor was given an allowance and that was perfect to him so long as he got to stay with his mom and dad.

Hours passed by in the blink of an eye, changing the light of the day into a dark night. His father, Henry, finished plucking the ground of any remaining vegetables that looked ripe for cooking, placing the ones that were going to be cooked into one basket then placing another batch into a second basket Arthur had no idea about.

"Dad?" Arthur asked innocently. "Where does this basket go, huh?" He continued to ask, tilting his head as he held the basket of food.

Henry looked his son's way, holding the other basket in his arms. The adult vulpine grunted as he walked with his son towards the house. "Well...there are some people in this world that need food more than we need it. I'm just sending these to sum, um...well..." He looked like he was hiding something but Arthur couldn't tell.

"Friends?" the young fox asked, taking the steps up to the house into the kitchen. He set the basket down on the floor next to the door just as his father came inside the home.

Henry nodded. "Yeah...yeah, some friends. You could call them that." He answered before planting a kiss on his wife's cheek using the strength his had to carry the woven basket to the front door.

"Why do they need them, dad?" Arthur continued to ask, wondering what his father was hiding.

"Hmm...well, they're just some special people that, well, need it more than we do," he grunted placing the basket at the front door before walking back into the kitchen. "In other words, they're good people who need it to survive."

"Oh," the fox understood, turning to his mother to help her out as well.

His mother named Clara smiled and patted her son away. "Go on and rest, okay, hon?" She asked, giving the young fox a gentle pat on the head. "Dinner will be ready in about an hour, so you just go and wash up before I'm finished, okay?" She asked, still keeping her gentle yet warm smile on the kid.

He nodded, letting his mother give him a gentle kiss on the nose before heading upstairs towards the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and his night clothes before jumping into the warm yet cold water at night. The feeling of the water sent pleasant shivers up his spine, making the shower enjoyable unlike other times where it was just too hot or way too cold. Maybe that feeling he got in the morning was a false alarm. Nothing had happened all day and he was growing ever so closer towards his birthday, making him just a tad more excited.

After quickly washing himself up, he dressed himself in his night clothes then made his way back downstairs towards the kitchen. His mother and father had already set the table and placed the food as well, letting young Arthur finish the preparations by getting the silverware and plates. Once that was finished and his parents finished cleaning the kitchen, they all sat down at the table and began to eat. Turkey, bread, carrots, mashed potatoes, water, and berries fresh off the vine. It all tasted amazing to Arthur who grew up eating fresh food his entire life. His parents seemed to enjoy the meal as well, smiling towards each other and then at their son, cleaning their plates in no time at all.

Half an hour passed before they finished the food on the table. Both Henry and Clara cleaned the dishes and the table while their son swept up the floor, making sure not to leave any dirt or dust as part of his job. The table had been wiped down, the dishes had been put away, and the floor was clean enough, but it wasn't the end of the day just yet for this family.

"Arthur, would you mind sitting down for a moment?" asked his mother, Clara, just as she tidied up the counters.

The young fox puzzlingly looked at her then at his dad, who just nodded the fox's way. Arthur just shrugged and nodded, taking his seat back at the table, waiting for his parents to join him. Whatever they wanted him for had to have been important since bed time was only twenty minutes away according to his clock.

Both Clara and Henry took their own seats at the table as well. They both had a warm smile upon their faces, showing the fox that they weren't mad. Even if they had been, what would it have been for? He thought about this for some time before his parents spoke after a minute of silence.

"Son," Henry said kindly. "We know what day tomorrow is, and I have to say this: I'm very proud of you." The older fox chuckled lightly, showing all the warmth with his eyes and his touch.

Clara nodded, smiling. "You're going to be a big boy soon and... it feels almost as if yesterday that I held you in my arms...and cupped your face for the very first time." She wiped a forming tear in her eye, making young Arthur almost cry along with her. She was always very emotional but yet also strong whenever she felt threatened.

Arthur smiled. "Thank you, thank you both." He sincerely spoke.

His father smiled back. "Well, that's not all we wanted to do actually." He said, getting up from his seat before heading to the lower sink cabinets. He rumbled through the cleaning supplies and such, grunting to himself just before finding what he was looking for. He came back to the table and placed a box wrapped in golden wrapping right in front of the teenager-to-be. It was golden wrapped with white intricate patterns running along the sides and corners. And around the box itself was a white, silk bow tied so loose yet very elegantly that it fit the shape and made the gift that much more pretty and sweet.

Arthur looked at the box with curiosity, tilting his head left and right to make out every single detail of it. It was about half a foot long and half a foot wide yet it didn't feel that much heavy. His father had to have done the wrapping since there wasn't much tape on it, save for the bottom side. His mother had to have done the bow since it was loose yet very pretty looking. Both of them probably chose the wrapper though, making them equal contributors.

He looked at both of them, wondering if he could take it and open it. They both smiled and nodded to him, beckoning him to go on and open the package up. He smiled then took the both, thanking both of his parents before he turned it over and pulled the tape off, making sure not to rip the wrapping in the process. The wrapping was the best part next to the bow, and he was going to keep both. The bow and paper were presents themselves and getting them, he thought, was probably no easy feat to buy them and bring them home.

After taking about a minute to take the bow and paper off delicately, he finally ripped the tape off of the box and opened it. What was inside made the fox gasp.

It was a plane.

Well, a model plane. It was one of those old-style propeller planes with the propeller spinning at the nose of the flying machine. On the sides were two fitted wings placed on the top and on the bottom. Two landing wheels had been placed on both sides of the plane and were fully functional, spinning as if the hinges had been oiled close to perfection. The wooden model was painted by a very bright silver that gleamed in the dim oil light that illuminated the room around the family.

Young Arthur looked at the work of art, in his mind he called it art. This wasn't some store bought, pre-made, wooden construct that had little value. It had been made from scratch all the way from the sanded wood--he let his fingers glide along the painted surface--to the painted surface that made the whole object look like the best work of art in the entire world, next to the Mona Lisa of course. Even though he hadn't seen much art in his life until he saw works from visible art from DaVinci, musical art from Mozart, and performance art from Shakespeare that was still reenacted to this day, he still found any type of craft in any form a work of art.

But he was young, he had no clue what art was, let alone could he understand it on an adults' level.

He picked the plane up from its box prison and let it shine in the low light. It looked just like those pictures from planes from World War II, or possibly from before since it had two wings on the top and bottom connected by a cable. He wasn't complaining though. A gift from his parents was worth more than he could ever want. Sure, he didn't get much for his birthday but he was never disappointed in the least. Even if it was made, he cherished it and preserved it to the fullest.

After smiling, showing his teeth in the process, he stood up from his chair and made his way towards his parents. The fox embraced his mother, said a very heartwarming 'thank you' then did the exact same with his father, who most likely crafted the entire aircraft himself in his spare time. Clearly the fox had to have been working on this for a couple of days--possibly a week?--since young Arthur had no idea of the gift hence before.

"Thank you both," he gratefully thanked his parents, putting one arm around his mother then the other around his father. Tears formed in his eyes as he sniffled, trying to contain his gratitude for the gift. "It's beautiful."

His father, Henry, chuckled, patting his son's back. "You're quite welcome, my boy. I know you like those planes that pass by our home all the time, so I decided to go back to a time where my great-grandfather in his involvement in the Second World War." He looked up and sighed, smiling at the oiled lantern that hung overhead. "He used to be a pilot, you see, and he used to be one of the bombers that helped bomb Germany during our attempt to capture the country and force Adolf to surrender."

Clara nodded. "Mmm-hmm. You told me that he was nearly shot down but managed to land his plane in a wheat field. He helped pave the way for other troops to invade the country and take it by storm, even my great-grandfather fought but as infantry instead of flying." She chuckled, cupping her mouth. "I was told he was always afraid of heights, but it seems you take after your father's side instead of mine though."

Henry chuckled. "He has your persistence though, and the drive to work more than his body wants to."

"True, all too true," she chuckled again, stroking her son's long, shaggy dark brown hair. "You're going to be a strong young man when you get older, promise?"

Arthur nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

"Even after we're gone?" his father asked.

He nodded. "Yes, sir. I'm gonna be just as strong as you one day! I'm gonna do my part for this world even if it's one carrot at a time!" The fox spoke with such spirit that only could be rivaled by a man twice his age, the spark of strength finally burning within his eyes that made both of the older foxes smile with glee.

Henry patted his son's head, ruffling his head-fur-hair while he was at his, getting a groan from the younger fox who tried to brush it back with his stubby claws. He could see that spark, as could Clara, and that was all the father fox needed to know about his son's passion. He only wished that more boys his age had that same spark instead of focusing more on games, girls, and popularity. The only reason living on the farm and working a farmer's life...just to protect the young fox from the outside world and its mysteries and tragedies, like the war. He looked away. The war was both a good and bad thing. One side was fighting for the freedom and stability the world once had a very long time ago, and the other was fighting to keep things as they are with the slaves, no freedoms, and restraints that felt like chains all the time. That was the good and bad, next to the death toll that had be taken into account. Both sides were losing lots of men and women just to achieve different goals that neither of them agreed on.

"Is something wrong, dad?" Arthur asked, looking at his father while finding that he was in deep thought. He always knew just when his father was thinking long and hard about something and, most of the time, he would just claim that it was nothing.

Henry turned back to his son. "Hmm? Oh, it's nothing to worry about, son."

And this would be one of those times obviously.

Clara patted her son's head. "Go on to bed, sweetie. Your father and I will be up there to tuck you in shortly, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, getting up from his seat before heading up the stairs.

He opened the door to his small room then shut it, turning on the oiled candle-light before sitting on the edge of his bed. He looked at himself in the mirror before lying down, taking notice of the way he looked. He looked like an ordinary fox: orange-red fur, brown glove-like hands and forearms and feet, and a white inner chin and belly. His teal-colored night clothes covered his body though, yet he knew exactly what he looked like. He could see the violet color in his eyes very distinctly, also being able to make out the light build he had, and shaggy, messy hair that he got just from working all day in a field. He must've inherited his hair from his dad since his mother usually had silky hair. It wasn't fully a mess but it was very shaggy and did look like a mess at times but it did fit well on his head.

Arthur held the plane in his hands, brushing his fingers along the smooth coat of paint that lay across the smooth wood structure. He took back what he said earlier. His father must've did the crafting while his mother did the final touches with the painting. He had also failed to notice the number thirteen painted in white atop the left wing while two more white stripes were painted around the other wing. It was definitely his mother's work since the lines looked steady and straight, just nearly flawless by the way he looked at it.

Young Arthur looked at the pilot's seat on the plane, finding not even a small figuring sitting there. He tilted his head in curiosity. As he got curious, he thought of himself in that seat, flying the aircraft through the air with full freedom without anyone to tell him to stop. The fox sighed, just thinking about being as high as the clouds were, just feeling the moisture that they gave off for the very first time. It was a dream he had, being at cloud level without any restraints placed on him at all, leaving him completely free to do whatever he pleased.

Then, he returned to reality.

He was back on his bed, in his room, holding the wooden plane his father had made for him. Sighing, he looked at the clock on his night stand. It was ten, which told him that it was lights out. Though he was excited for tomorrow, actually living his birthday, he couldn't help but look back at his plane. The item made him smile with glee, as if there was something inside of him that told him that things were going to be fine, and that nothing was wrong.

Arthur wasn't sure whether or not his parents would be up in time before he went to bed, so he set the plane down on his night stand, making sure it was safe in case he tried to make a move during the night or something. The model was probably very fragile as well, so better to handle it with care than to be a spoiled brat and handle it recklessly. And it did come from his mother and father, so it had sentimental and heartfelt value as well, making Arthur take even better care of it.

Satisfied with the placement, he lied down on his bed and pulled the covers over his body then turned himself on his side. He closed his eyes and let out a long relieving sigh. It was his birthday tomorrow. There was nothing to worry about. It was all in his imagination.

And so, he scratched the back of his neck and went to bed.