Kaizen woke up to the muffled sounds of his parents arguing in the living room, a daily ritual that marked the beginning of another miserable day. The sharp, angry tones of his mother’s voice cut through the thin walls, and he could already feel the tension seeping into his bones.
His mother’s voice, shrill and venomous, accused his father of everything under the sun—of not bringing in enough money, of being a worthless drunk, of ruining her life. Kaizen’s father, Juan, was no better. He responded with curses and threats, his words slurred from the early morning whiskey he drank to numb the pain of existence. Kaizen had long since learned to tune them out, but the words still clung to him like the stench of the cheap booze his father reeked of.
He slipped out of bed and dressed quickly, pulling on a hoodie to shield himself from the morning chill and, more importantly, to hide from the world. He grabbed his backpack, heavy with the weight of his textbooks and the even heavier burden of being a misfit in a society that didn’t want him. As he made his way to the door, he heard his mother shout something about him not doing enough around the house. He ignored it, as he always did, and stepped outside into the bleak streets of Sacramento.
Kaizen walked through the desolate car centric streets, the weight of his thoughts heavy on his shoulders. The city, once a place of promise and opportunity, had decayed into a husk of its former self. Crumbling buildings stood as monuments to a society that had long lost its way. The air was thick with the stench of despair, and the sound of distant sirens echoed through the night, a constant reminder of the violence that lurked around every corner.
Home was no refuge. Kaizen reflected om his family—if it could even be called that—what a twisted parody of what family should be. His father, a man hardened by years of disappointment and failed dreams, took out his frustrations on those closest to him. Every night, the same slurred insults and angry outbursts, the same threats that Kaizen had long since learned to ignore. But the wounds they left behind were deep, festering in the corners of his mind.
His mother, on the other hand, was a master of manipulation. Her words were knives, cutting into his self-worth with precision. "You're worthless," she'd say, her voice dripping with venom. "You think you're special? You're just like your father—a failure." She had no respect for his boundaries, no understanding of the turmoil that raged inside him. To her, he was nothing more than a burden, a constant reminder of the life she wished she could have had.
School was no better. The underfunded, decaying institution was a breeding ground for misery. Kaizen was an outcast, the quiet kid in the back of the class who everyone avoided. They didn’t understand him, and they didn’t want to. He was too different, too strange. The few friends he had made in elementary school had long since drifted away, leaving him isolated in a sea of hostile faces.
But Kaizen found solace in the one place that didn’t judge him—the internet. He would spend hours scrolling through forums and watching videos, seeking answers, seeking meaning. The world outside his bedroom was falling apart, and he needed something—anything—to make sense of it all. That’s when he stumbled upon the political echo chambers, the dark corners of the internet where rage and hate festered. They told him what he wanted to hear, what he needed to hear: that it wasn’t his fault, that the world was against him, that he was a victim of a system that sought to crush him. The propaganda was like a drug, numbing the pain, giving him a sense of belonging that he had never felt before.
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After all, It was on the internet that Kaizen found a community, though he didn’t realize at first how toxic it was. He stumbled upon forums and YouTube channels that catered to disillusioned young men like him—places where they raged against everything except for the real culprits of their worsening life. After all, The Empire made sure its citizens would stay distracted fighting amongst eachother rather than fighting its ruling class. The content online was a twisted mix of conspiracy theories, pseudo-science, antifeminist gets owned videos and just outright hate, but it resonated with the anger festering inside him. He started watching video after video, each one feeding into his growing sense of alienation and despair.
One night, after yet another argument with his parents, Kaizen decided he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to clear his head, to escape the suffocating walls of his house. He walked through the empty streets, the cold air biting at his skin. The city was quiet, eerily so, as if holding its breath, waiting for something terrible to happen.
And then, it did.
That night, his parents had another one of their screaming matches. His mother accused his father of cheating, his father responded with threats of violence, and Kaizen just couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to get out, to escape the toxic environment, if only for a little while. He grabbed his hoodie and left the house, not caring where he went as long as it was away from them.
He walked aimlessly through the streets of Sacramento, his mind racing with the thoughts planted by hours of online propaganda. He thought about the broken system, the crumbling society, the lies he’d been fed his whole life. As the sun set, he found himself standing on the edge of a park, watching as the city lights flickered on, casting a sickly yellow glow over the decaying landscape.
As Kaizen rounded the corner to his street, he saw the flames. His house—his prison—was engulfed in fire, the bright orange glow lighting up the night sky. Panic surged through him as he broke into a run, his heart pounding in his chest. But when he got closer, he saw them—the police, decked out in riot gear, wielding flamethrowers with a cold, detached efficiency. They didn’t care who they were killing, what lives they were destroying. To them, his family was just another target, another statistic in a city gone mad.
Kaizen’s legs buckled, and he stumbled to a stop, watching in horror as the roof collapsed, burying whatever was left of his family beneath the burning rubble. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. The heat from the flames scorched his skin, but he didn’t feel it. All he felt was emptiness, a gaping void where his heart used to be.
He didn’t know how long he stood there, staring at the remains of his life. Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter. When he finally turned away, his body was on autopilot, carrying him far away from the scene of destruction. He didn’t know where he was going—he just knew he couldn’t stay. The city that had taken everything from him was no longer his home. He had no home.
Kaizen wandered the streets, a ghost in a world that had forgotten him. Homeless, alone, he was forced to confront the harsh reality of the world he had been born into. The same system that had chewed up and spit out his parents was now coming for him. But as he sat in the cold, empty streets of Sacramento, he began to cry all alone to himself thar night.
Something inside him began to change. The despair that had once consumed him was replaced by a burning anger, a rage that demanded to be unleashed.
This was not the life he was meant to live. He had been fed lies, delusions of hatred, and manipulated into believing he was powerless...
But a new joy was found in harming others... For the first time in his life, Kaizen felt true control over his environment. Killing those in the streets he deemed to be unworthy, degenerates or delenquites brought him a kind of sadistic satisfaction like hed never felt before.
He became fascinated, almost joyful at the mere comcept of harming others, or killing those he deemed to be responsible for the decline of western civilization.
Thus, he became the byproduct of his new surroundings, no longer the innocent, bright eyed and joyful child of his youth, but rather now, a murderous cunning villain set on sadism itself. A delusional freak who beleived himelf to be a hero in a world of crazy people. He desired to make the world a better place, however under severe delusions of grandeur, as he saw himself being a messanger of god, distorting the original messages of his holybook for chaos.