I remember my Grandpa's words very distinctly. I was about five when he told me the story of a different age. "Back in my time, the elders had no scars.", he said, "But around the time my parents were born, it started spreading like a disease. And now, look around. They are everywhere. Not that I mind them... but I'm happy that you don't have any just yet." It always fascinated me how he thought about these scars. How they could be a "disease" that he still doesn't mind.
I'm twenty-three now and if you were to examine my skin, you still wouldn't find anything other than a few birthmarks. But if you were to peel off just the first layer, you'd see all the scars covering my whole body, more densely than anyone else's. And you would see one scar that's greater than any other. It gets bigger and bigger every day. The pain is unbearable, but I need to be strong. I'm in the Commando. The same Commando that killed my mother. The same Commando that makes me suffer.
The Commando was founded no more than four years ago, but they now control the whole of Britain, and they are ever expanding. They are headquartered in Oxford, the same city where Michael Smith, who is now known as the General, announced the creation of a "special unit whose primary purpose is to eradicate the disease". In human words, this meant that he would kill anyone prone to being scarred. When I first heard him, it all felt like some twisted, disgusting manipulation of my Grandpa's words. But it became very real.
In just about a year, the Commando shot everyone in my family except for myself. Most of my friends are also gone. There were only three people who would understand me... who I could talk to.
The first was Dr. Blackwater, the doctor who officially diagnosed my skin disorder back when I was a child. The other two were Anna and Jamie. I haven't seen them in years, but they all had one thing in common. All three of them were like me. So I had to talk to them, no matter what. It wasn't only a matter of revenge, it was also very practical - the pain caused by the loss grew more and more intense. So this little group of four organised our own meeting in our own headquarters. Because of the ancient rivalry, we decided that our headquarters would be in Cambridge.
Dr. Blackwater already had his plans ready. He identified about a dozen other people with the same condition who would be ready to come and offer their services to the Commando. It was already quite common that scarless people offered their services to them, so this was the best way to infiltrate their ranks.
Three years passed since. Out of the hundred and thirty-two Colonels, ten are from us. Jamie and I are one of the five Generals. The pain has become insufferable even with the painkillers Dr. Blackwater gives us whenever we go to Cambridge. And we've all become murderers. My death count just reached three hundred a week ago. Every single one of those hurt. Every single one of those adds a new scar. Yet, we are still not ready to strike. We are weak, and the Commando is strong.