The Forgotten

This faction represents the last stronghold of humanity. The only pure mortals alive, and the human race's last hope. The forgotten first get introduced in chapter three of the main storyline. They are the third and last faction of The Fracture universe. They are the humans that refused to join the Bridged, and thus spend most of their time hiding from the other two factions.

The first introduction to the Forgotten faction artwork, is through "The Forgotten Noir: Master Editions (see below). In which it is stated that 4 Forgottten Characters will be introduced. Two to be auctioned on Exchange.art, and one to be auction in the project's native currency, called $GOD on the Raffle platform. Another one will be airdropped to all Solgod Holders.

## Vic

Vic is the first Forgotten character 1/1 master edition that was auctioned off on Exchange.art. It ended up getting sold for 55.33 SOL, which equated to $1,648 at the time of the sale. The artwork of Vic can be seen below.

The Vic 1/1 Art piece was accompanied by a backstory to Vic posted on the Fracture's Medium page:

> “I’m not afraid of what’s out there. I know nothing but survival.”
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### **Bio**

Found as a newborn that was left for dead in an apocalyptic world, Vic grew up knowing nothing but survival. By sixteen she could grow vegetables from water, create a weapon out of scrap metal, and disarm an opponent in less than three strikes. Trouble was, she never got to put it to practice, because her overprotective “parents” would not let her leave their bunker.

The dangers of the outside world did not faze her, but stagnation did. She was achingly lonely. Responsible by nature, she diligently prepared to leave home for the adventure of a lifetime. And she did not look back.

### **The Story**

Vic was found as a tiny bundle at the edge of a lake. Her infant body was lifeless when the gas-masked strangers lifted her, but at their touch she gave a great shuddering breath, and wailed. The couple took her to their bunker home, and named her Victory for the simple act of living in a ruined world. Raised by an astrophysicist father and botanist mother, Vic grew up with an education rooted in resourcefulness and survival. Morning combat drills were followed by afternoons tinkering with weapons by her father’s side, and evenings working at her mother’s hydrogarden.

Vic lives a cozy life by all dystopian standards, but all is not well. She is prone to severe seizures, a result of the toxic air that she breathed for those critical hours leading up to her rescue. Recovering from these seizures is painfully slow; affecting her mind and body, they leave her confused, exhausted, and entropic for days. As she grew into a young adult, the seizures became less frequent, but more severe. As much as she loves the comfort of home, she feels trapped in an endless cycle with no hope for change. And if she is honest with herself, she is lonely. With only her parents for company, Vic has never known the joy of friendship with someone her age.

She has listened to countless lectures on the flaws of the Bridged and their philosophy. Her parents proudly moralize their decision to not Bridge so that they could “die with dignity as a human.” They do not trust other Forgotten tribes, citing violent governance among the larger communities of survivors.

Their overprotection only fuels Vic’s curiosity about a life outside of her bunker, a life possibly laced with Omnium. There might be a cure for her within that advanced technology. And maybe she’ll meet someone her own age along the way. Diligent by nature, Vic plots a path to Utopion, the city of the Bridged. Knowing that her parents would never let her go, she leaves under the cloak of darkness. And she does not look back.

## Cain

Cain is the second Forgotten character 1/1 master edition that was auctioned off on Exchange.art. It ended up getting sold for SOL, which equated to $ at the time of the sale. The artwork of Cain can be seen below:

The Cain 1/1 Art piece was accompanied by a backstory to Vic posted on the Fracture's Medium page:

> “Any problem can be solved with a sharp blade.”
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### **Bio**

Cain spent the first few years of his life in a crowded camper van in “The Hook,” a growing slum on the outskirts of the Utopion named for its curved sprawl and the way it roped people in on the promise of Bridging. His parents moved him and his siblings when he was a baby, hoping to be let in to the technological paradise. Their application was denied every time. Too poor, too trashy.

Cain was seven when the Gods appeared, and was the only member of his family to survive the chaos and war that followed. His subsequent adolescence was marked by sleepless nights and alley fights, usually against Utopion citizens making trouble after looking for fun in the slum. Cain blames the death of his family on the Bridged. He terrorises them with suicidal indifference, and his gutter-earned fight skills and calm demeanour leave him victorious every time.

### **The Story**

Cain spent the first few years of his life in a crowded camper van in “The Hook,” a growing slum on the outskirts of the Utopion named for its curved sprawl and the way it roped people in on the promise of Bridging. His parents moved him and his siblings when he was a baby, hoping to be let in to the technological paradise. Their application was denied every time. Too poor, too trashy.

Cain was seven when the Gods appeared, and was the only member of his family to survive the chaos and war that followed. His subsequent adolescence was marked by sleepless nights and alley fights, usually against Utopion citizens making trouble after looking for fun in the slum. For the next fourteen years, Cain hacked it in the slum, living with the lonely few that survived the Gods’ attack. Cain witnessed the rebirth of the slum as it filled out with more survivors, some looking for any place to call home, others holding on to the hope that they could enter Utopion. Sadly for them, the Bridged were not accepting new arrivals.

The slum grew in brutality and mistrust; quack doctors promised Bridging surgeries, leaving a trail of disfigured bodies in their wake. People tried to self-bridge and only self-mutilated. The escalating madness was suffocating — Cain had to get out, had to take action against those responsible for the Gods’ descent, the death of his family, and the downfall of the only home he knew. Living in the slum tested him but he never gave in to cruelty. Cain is salty, but not egotistical. He has a dark sense of humour that cuts through the weight of his circumstances. He is lithe but strong, sinew over steel bone. Cain could rip out your jugular with three fingers. You cannot break his guard. He is especially skilled with knives.

At 20, Cain witnessed a horrific attack at the hands of a Utopion citizen against a child of the slum. This event re-ignited his calcified rage. He left The Hook for once and for all with cold, clean intent to attack and destroy omnium outposts. He knows that the omnium supply has been compromised since the Gods’ attack; he knows that they have weaknesses that he can exploit. He terrorises with suicidal indifference, and his gutter-earned fight skills and calm demeanour leave him victorious every time.

### Lore scenes revolving around Cain

Mary’s voice faded as Cain scrambled down irregular steps, hurrying to get ahead of the chase he knew was coming.

He knows.

His feet hit level ground with a squelch, slipping over sludge. Whiskey churned in his empty stomach and he pitched forward, catching himself on the cold stone wall. Shaking his head he ran, biting down on the corner of his mouth to a cut that wouldn’t heal, containing fear in a sting. He was blind. He had matches, but did not want to use them, not when escape to the Outside threatened his immediate future. He dragged his palm along the right side of the tunnel, feeling for the fourth opening that would lead him to his alley.

One…two…three…clammy sweat beaded at his hairline as pressure closed against his lungs; there was little oxygen in the bowels of the slum. He collapsed into the fourth opening, a pathway so narrow that his shoulders bumped the walls as he stumbled through. Finally, head aching, stomach churning, he passed under a stripe of yellow light. A small voice peeled above the grate.

“Ricky’s ciggys! I roll it, you smoke it!”

“Ricky!” Cain rasped. “Cayne? That you?” Ricky’s high-pitched twang sang through the night. Ricky was his neighbor, a straw haired child that arrived at The Hook out of the blue with nothing but a carton of cigarettes to trade for food. He was an instant target, so Cain took him in and set him up on the other side of the single wall that divided his shack. That carton provided them with a year’s worth of food. Having established his business, Ricky started to sell smokes of his own invention. As long as they weren’t lethal, Cain did not see the harm. People would trade most anything for a smoke, even if it was just mugwort and sawdust.

Now his worn rubber soles stood over Cain’s head. “Down here, Ricky.” Wide eyes peered between the iron bars. “The fuck you doin’ down there?”. “Get me out and I’ll tell you.” Ten minutes later, Cain was cramming a bundle of rat jerky into an overstuffed backpack. He clipped a dagger to his calf sheath and tucked his whipclaw under his right sleeve. A handy weapon of his design, the whipclaw was a flail for short distance combat. The retractable chain, anchored to a base at the user’s wrist, connected to a weighted sphere studded with three steel talons. It enabled the user to hook an enemy by the back of their neck while facing front.

Like Achilles, the Bridged had one vulnerability: the Omnium bind, an inch-long link that connected the synthetic Omnium vein to the brainstem. To Cain’s knowledge, severing this bind was the only way to kill a Bridged. It was the weapon responsible for the skull trophy that Cain kept as a reminder that even the Bridged were mortal. A skull that belonged to Ajax’s friend.

“CAIN!” A gravelly voice bellowed outside.

Ruminate on the enemy, meet the enemy… Cain readied the whipclaw, confident– “He’s not here!” piped Ricky from his street corner. “Noo Ricky,” Cain groaned, tearing through the door. Ricky stood with his arms crossed, eye level with Ajax’s stomach. “Shut up, worm.” A sickening smack, a yelp of pain. Ricky slumped against the wall, head lolling. Blood trickled over his freckles. “Feels good to beat on a kid?”

Yellow eyes glared. Unlike Mary, whose headware blended with the contours of her face, Ajax look mangled. Shreds of titanium winked at odd angles along his hairline, and a glowing cyst the size of a chicken’s egg swelled under his cheek. “Must suck to be a monster after all that begging, huh Greg?” Bridging was about reinvention and people styled fancy names for themselves once on the other side. Ajax used to be Greg, a slimy veteran that promised mercenary skills for entrance into Utopion.

At Cain’s insult he charged, blinded by rage. Holding his ground, Cain flicked a toggle on the base of the whipclaw and jerked his wrist in a sharp circle, whipping the chain forward. The weight whooshed as it passed Ajax’s ear and Cain gave another jerk, retracting the ballistic talons smack into Ajax’s neck with a crunch. Cain wrenched the chain, throwing Ajax head first to the ground. Cain knelt by the stunned body and wrestled the talons out of the ripped muscle. “Your vitals will start to power down after five minutes. This is how it ended for your rapist buddy too, but I’ll leave your ugly head alone,” he snarled.

Ajax’s mouth twitched to a grim smile. Cain saw, with horror, his own face sneering back at him in Ajax’s retinas. The Network. The 30 percentwere not supposed to have access to the Network. His image would be all over Utopion. Well. Good thing I’m leaving. Cain scooped Ricky and brought him inside, laying him on the nest of blankets that was his bed. Ricky’s blue eyes squinted, buried beneath swollen cheeks. “C’n…ev’rythn hurrs.” “I know. Listen.” Panic prickled under Cain’s ears. What did he have to say to Ricky? What good would he be once gone? “Listen…just–lay low for a while, okay? If someone asks for me, tell them everything. Don’t be brave. Protect yourself. Go to Mary if you have any trouble. Just–stay alive. That’s all you gotta do.”

“Th’fuck you goin’?”

Guilt curdled Cain’s stomach. “The house is yours.” “Ca-ayne…” Cain lowered his eyes, pushing through his door for the last time. His stomach flipped. Ajax stood there, waiting. “Rat.” Charred skin blistered across Ajax’s chest. A thin tube ran from the back of his neck to a bag that he squeezed, pumping a vile orange liquid that sizzled under his skin. Cain swallowed. Omnium is blue... Ajax’s yellow eyes were filmy and glimmering, darting wildly. He looked manic.

The fuck is he on? Cain held his hands above his head and stepped backwards, feigning fear. Ajax advanced like a bottled storm. Come on… Finally, concrete gave way to a metal bar. In a flash Cain threw the grate to the side. Ajax roared, charging like a rabid buffalo, but Cain was quicker. He jumped into the small hole, too narrow for Ajax to fit. The monster clawed air as Cain fell to his slimy rescue. This time he did not slip as he ran into the dark.

## Forgotten Lore & Artwork snippets from Tweets

"The Bridged left their vulnerabilities out in the open. Action will be taken. Our revenge will be brutal".

> *power goes out* “ugh !! Again ?! Fuckin’ Bridgers man.. The fuck y’all powerin’ up in there anyway huh? ya robot lookin’ muthafuckers? Y’all ain’t sleep? Haven't got to recharge no batteries? Just go go go all da time, and ain’t gotta stop or nuthin’ huh? Y’all think we got time for that down here? Huh? Ain’t no dome round’ here to protect nobody... Ain’t no fuckin’ endless power source down here or whatever-the-hell y’all got in your stupid ass metal golf ball.. *audio starts to fade* Shit.. I tell you what, wouldn’t be putting up with none that immoral nonsense round’ here..”
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