Welcome to Gaia! ::

This is a project I began December of 2010. The initial idea was in 09', but I only really began to work on it in 10'.
Anyhow, I'll post the beginning and I'd like some good, hard critique on what I should change, add or remove.
Genesis really isn't a decided character. I need to do a lot more work on him. I know at certain points, the story refers to him as a 'she', so please tell me if that is the case...

Please do NOT steal my ideas. I've spent a long time to make this, and also if I find out, it is within my legal rights to make a claim on it.

Chapter I 1/7 of the first chapter at the least
Day dreamer


The sun hung deep in the red sky, to the southwest of the town, casting long shadows. Tall, crumbling buildings sat alongside a sidewalk-less, gutter-less, single car lane. The concrete surface was black and cracked, and a single old, rusted out truck was parked in a lot with a barbed wire fence around it.
Heat waves shimmered up from the road, and about three hundred meters from where a young male stood, the road faded away into the sandy desert. Behind him about ten miles away were a range of dead, sandy desert mountains, a formation on a dead landscape. This single road ran through the center of the city, though there were many linked roads along there.
This city was run by gamblers and gangsters, often wars broke out between the bitter rivals. The government of the City had never had a change to form and was thrust into corruption, and the finished city was overrun by rebels. The reason for it all was simple; they had built on a vast, sandy desert where no neighboring cities could help out in an emergency; the nearest city was three hundred miles away, on the outskirts of the desert.
The wars were very violent; Gangsters came mostly from small towns with ammo and guns and more money and drugs then imaginable. Hundreds lurked and lived in abandon apartments and such, but another thing was that everyone was for himself, if not, he was in a gang. Even gangs turned against each other and usually someone wound up dead.
Gunshots rang out overhead as someone was thrown out a window and landed with a grunt in the road, getting up and running, leaping over the fence. Something blew up somewhere as a white flash momentarily blinded anyone looking toward the south and then vanished.
There was a scream of a woman and tires screeching. A power line fell into the road. Sparks scattered from a flung torch, startling a drunken group of people. They began to let out drunken yells of gibberish, one throwing a half finished beer bottle at another group, and the other group began yelling at the offenders in no particular real language.
There were the Terrors, the gangs who spent most of their time plotting ways to start wars against other gangs. Then the airheads, whose sole purpose in life was to drink, boink, and party. They only spent their time finding ways to try and improve their bloated egos and popularity among their kind.
And finally, the gangs of punks, the younger less respected future-terrors. Some were as young as thirteen, and the older ones were seventeen. Most of these did not drink, but were capable of murder, some mingled in with the airheads.
Most of these fools were male, but a few women got thrown into the mix. Knowing their fates was terrible, knowing that once someone from a gang realized how bad the heavy drinking and partying and all the other crap was, it was always too late and they wound up dead from either liver cancer or the attack of another gang.
Genesis Van Olden was certain he never would belong to people like these. For one, he didn’t consider himself stuck up, to a degree he respected himself and those around him most of the time, unless they were undeserving of his respect. He loathed drinking and murder; he was unable to fathom the close contact of the gangs.
Genesis was a loner; a guy with no gang, and was proud to be a loner, proud to have common sense, and his self pride made her seem arrogant to those he once knew.
And now you, the reader, must be wondering how a good kid like him got mixed up into this city of hell with all these rats. Well, he ran there. He came from a nice city with a democracy, came after a friend who had run there to see what it was like to live in hell.
He had traversed miles of desert; sand, with no plants, no life, just sand scattered all over with deadly sandstorms. And he had reached the City in only three months, four days, two hours, eighteen minutes, and seven seconds from the start of May according to the watch he’d lost shortly after his arrival. He had been there for only god-knows-how-long, almost giving into the gangs, but decided he was not going to give in; and he fought and fought the urge to fit in until he naturally didn’t want to join them any more.
The truth of the matter was, he understood how the city ruined your brain, making you want to stay. And it was always the downfall of people, so he’d witnessed. Perhaps they knew what their fate would be, perhaps they were ignorant; either way, he was still lost as to their motives.
Gen stood up and looked at the sky. The sun was almost gone, stars in the black backdrop to the eastern sky, and a blue fade where the light began to fade into nothing. Once more, the evening partying began, fireworks flying to the air, people yelling, cheering, and screaming.
Genesis was hit with a bout of nostalgia, seeing the red and gold sparks in the air, remembering when he was a young boy, with his aunt, uncle, cousin and sister watching the fireworks at the fourth of July Celebration.
He looked away, and a car came bouncing down the road. He dodged into a side alley, going through a tear in the chain link fence. The car was heading out to the desert, probably a Terror Groupie going to get supplies.
He waited until it was gone and walked into the main road, heading toward the partiers, keepping his eyes peeled for landmines. He didn’t see any landmines today though, assuring him that someone or something had already detonated them. A terror always left a few replacements out as a way to remind the people of the wars that had ravaged the land so many years ago. A bonfire was lit in an old crater from a war in the past, people dancing around it.
Genesis leaned up against a chain link fence that was surrounding an empty lot, staying out of the vision of the partiers, but near enough to still see the bonfire. He felt like a ghost, detached from the world, coming to watch the living.
A large gust of wind blew in, bringing a lot of sand. People stopped talking in silence, but began again, laughing and shooting fireworks. An empty beer bottle went flying past Genesis and crashed against the fence, shattering on the ground.
Someone turned a radio in a car on, and loud booming music started ricocheting of the walls of the empty buildings then back at the partiers. The rest of the sun finally slipped away and left the sky completely dark. Stars were only the faintest dots of color, and the moon had yet to appear. After a while, a full moon appeared far above, casting its light down. He slipped away into a building, in fear of being seen and shot. Here, time was an illusion; an hour could slip by in a second and a minute could last a year.
The building was musty and stale, and abandon. No furniture remained and half of it was burned out. Genesis climbed a rope to a higher floor and got to the third floor. Nobody would find him up there, and he untied the rope and pulled it up with him so he could get down the next morning.
It was hard to find somewhere to stay each night with the increasing Terror attacks. Genesis was sure he would die in this forsaken town by himself by a gang attack. It was a depressing thought and wasn’t something he liked to think about if he didn’t have to.
Gunshots rang out outside as Genesis lay on the floor trying to fall asleep. Something blew up outside, rattling the building. The empty window frames had no glass, not even shards left. No curtains hung over the windows, nothing.
Tires screeched to a stop outside on the road and screams erupted from the partiers, and gunshots. There came the nightly shooting of partiers from the Terror groupies that hated to see drunken partiers.
The Terrors would shoot people, splattering the roads with blood, and then force the dumb punks to clean up the bodies and cover the blood in sand. Most of them did this, but some would leave the bodies in plain sight to warn the other city beings not to be foolish enough to get caught.
Genesis fell asleep before long and slept fretfully until dawn of the next day when the Terror groupies awoke the city by shooting all their guns into the air and setting off the remaining unlit fireworks from the night before party. Most everyone slept during the day, waking up in the afternoons, all except the Terror groupies, who made sure to shoot all the day walker partiers they saw. The only people the Terror groupies rarely killed were other Terror Groupies unless they were insulted, felt insulted, implied someone had insulted them, or heard an insulting rumor, always something of the like.
He quickly ate some bread he had stolen from a terror groupies Jeep and saved the rest for lunch, putting it in the bag. The only food and water he got was from breaking into Terror Jeeps and Headquarters when there was nobody around, and stealing.
Genesis stood up and re-tied the rope to the loop, jumping down to the bottom floor and preparing for the long day ahead of trying to survive the City of the Damned, the City of Hell, and the Nameless City. There was an uncountable amount of names people had for this city, the real name long forgotten.
Cities had sent armies to remove the city from the face of the earth, but the few armies that survived the desert were killed by Terrors- so in a way, everyone in the city had the Terrors to thank for being alive.
A gunshot rang out and a fence collapsed as a car ran through it, pursued by an open top jeep painted a sandy color with two men standing up in the back, two keeping guard and watching from the back as the other two shot at the car. The driver was flooring it and smashed into the back of the car it was chasing. Gen had no pity the one being attacked. As harsh as it seemed, they were likely being chased under good or semi good reason.
However if the terror knew that Genesis watched, they would without doubt shoot him where he stood. He was not welcome, not as a partier, a punk, or a terror.

Ah thanks. I understand that one was a bit wonky, but I've never really figured out a better wording that includes in the data though. I'll try that.
Initially my writing style was complete and utter chaos. I admit I've tried to hone down the writing itself, but the words still seem in utter nonsense. I'll see what I can try to work on.