Tags Writing Novels & Stories

“Now, we need to set you up with your own tag.” My brows lifted. “My own tag?” “Yeah.” With a nod, he widened his hands apart as if displaying an imaginary banner. “Your identifier. Your mark. Normally, we’d practice you off on paper for a couple of years first, but tonight, we’re just going to roll with it. Are you into bubbly letters or do you want something grittier and edgier that’s blocky? Or, you know, you don’t have to outline at all.” “I…”

That scared the shit out of me. Master Sean has four Life Tags that served as a warning to those who opposed him. First was the Yellow Tag. It’s a solo free pass to hell for one year. Then the Orange Tag, a family joyride to hell for ten years. The third was the Red Tag, a family treat for permanent residency in hell. Aka, the living death. Lastly, the Black Tag. It meant you will die soon. They forcibly marked that woman on the wrist. She was beyond surprised and scared shit while Master Sean left with a Cheshire smile.

These are the transfer records for every single tag! "These are the design schematics for enlarged tags, made so passersby could see them clearly!" The evidence was undeniable, ironclad. The wind of the live stream shifted. The IDs that had been hurling abuse just moments ago froze, as if slapped across the face. [Oh my God… what did I just say?] [I deserve a slap in the face! I actually called her a freebie fiend!] [That isn't a price tag—it's a lifeline!] [I'm so sorry! I'll delete my comments immediately.]

Attached is a tag with three engraved words: FOR SUBJECT ZERO

Aiden said and we all look at Tagan. Waiting for his reaction. "What do you think then?" Aiden asked her. "That's a great idea dude," Tove said and agreed with what Aiden said. Tagan glanced at us and me like he was challenging me so I was swallowed up by Twitter. His side lips rose and “Yeah why not, can you make hundred pieces for my birthday I want to share it to my fans” sarcasm is all over his world I can say. A Hundred pieces? Can I, do it?