Are there any crystals for special mentions?

Chapter 2 Him My neck aches as I slowly gain consciousness. My vision is blurry, due to the gucky crust in my eyes. But I can still make out a white, sterile room. There is someone standing over me, in a police officer's uniform. I try to rub the guck out of my eyes but I seem to be restrained by handcuffs. The police officer notices my stirring, and bustles over. He looks vaguely familiar, but I can't quite place him. 'Stefan Lefkowitz, you are charged with the first-degree murder of Juniper Carey, Liam Holt and Maximus Lieu, as well as one charge of armed assault regarding Hunter Kahu.' He begins reading my rights and I don't listen. I block him out. However, I try to identify him. And I can. It's the guy I shot. Hunter Kahu. My bomb brother. Before U.N.I.T.E.D. came My other brothers will come find me. The ones that weren't captured by U.N.I.T.E.D. My brothers from Blood Tys. We were born in the Blood Tys hospital. Educated in Blood Tys School. Trained to kill by the best. Jackson Kahu. But when U.N.I.T.E.D., the organisation tasked with bringing down Blood Tys came, it was all destroyed. Hunter surrendered, the only one, while his father waskilled. My brothers and I, The Rest, separated around the world, integrating ourselves into society. We targeted important people. And killed them. Juniper was head of a Multi-million dollar metal production plant. I tune back in. He is asking if I have questions. 'You really don't remember me, do you?' I ask. 'No' But this time, his voice wobbles, and I can see through his facade of amnesia. He does know. He must pay. My brothers are coming, they all knew of my mission to kill Juniper, and will be storming in any minute. 'You are going to die soon.' I calmly tell him, feeling no remorse for the surrendering coward. 'But, you see, you are the one caught, and soon to be imprisoned.' He retorts, although looking more worried by the moment. 'There are more of us.' 'Wha-' is the scumbag's last noise as a machine gun rips him in half, and my brothers, my true brothers, are here. WC. 383

you have to copy+paste link

file:///home/chronos/u-395afdddee89b2a4713493cd4d15ea720a385530/Downloads/Screenshot%202016-05-12%20at%208.08.57%20AM.png Titan on the flag: Sharing is caring! Viking drugger: But I don't care!

Hell's Angels "All stand for the new graduates from training!" An unseen voice booms . The audience stands, in unison, shouting the chant that they have heard since the day they were born. "Heil the Whyte Hand! Heil the Whyte Hand!" "These elite recruits, the best of the best, were hand-picked at 15 years of age and subsequently trained for five years, learning everything they need to survive in the Overworld. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeaaase welcome, the new squad, WH-ELI-1657!" The crowd roars as the new agents step out onto the polished, ebony, stage. They all did the well-known and feared Whyte Hand salute, one hand parallel to their chest, the other clutching the wrist of the vertical hand. The new agents are in their sterilised, white barracks, pulling on their night-clothes when the elected leader of their squad, Christian Aldenkamp, struck up a conversation. "Who do you think our first retrieval mission is going to be for?" "Hopefully a famous singer or actor, the 'media' up in the Overworld will be going spastic." Augustijn Schultheiss, the seldom speaking pretty-boy of the group interjected. "Or maybe let's get the president of the U.S.A.!" drawled Rikard Wedekind, as sarcastic as usual. "Shut up, all of you!" Second-in-command, Hilda Nuremberg, complained, as she dived back under her duvet. The male members of the squad looked at each other. Christian murmured, as not to incur Hilda's wrath, "Well, she does have a point, I'm friggin exhausted after those celebration parties. Lights out." "Guys, guys, wake up, we have our first retrieval!" Rikard Wedekind bellowed. There was an instant scramble for the agent's RETpacks and excited murmurs as they tried to guess who the target of their retrieval was. "Nah jokes. There's no mission. But it is Christdeath today! Presents!" The were groans at Rikard's 'joke' but they ended as they saw the bulging sack in Rikard's hand. They all peered inside the sack, and then the world exploded in flashes of colour. As the trainees rubbed their eyes and regained their feet, Third Lieutenant Hans Petrescu marched into the barracks. "What is the third rule in training!?" "Never assume that anything is safe." The agents duly replied. "Right. And just cause someone says it's a holiday with presents, does it mean it is saf-" The world then again explodes, except this time, the explosion is real.