Hello.
My name is Reid Russell, nineteen years of age with a sister. Remember that.
I live in a world called Erisen, divided into five big continents very creatively named the North, South, East, West and Central continents, and our world runs on an energy called chronoplasma (Chrona for short).
Chrona is an infinite resource both natural and artificial and powers just about everything you can think of in Erisen - transport, weapons of mass destruction, orbital lasers, mechs, automatons and all the homes in the world.
Ten years ago an alien mothership bigger than the largest city in the world crash-landed in the Southern-continent. The inhabitants were unfortunately not interested in peace talks and turned out to be bloodthirsty beasts, and since the World Church denounced them as 'Unholy Fucking Organisms' (UFOs) we've been at war.
The war killed my parents when I was twelve and I've raised my younger sister Esinara Russell alone since. This year I scraped together enough money to send her to a good boarding school in the next city.
As for me?
I am currently getting chased through the quiet streets of my neighbourhood in the middle of the night by a pack of men dressed in black, wielding weapons of murder and climbing walls like spiders. Usually this bullshit does not happen in my home continent of the North, so please don't get the wrong idea.
And fuckin' hell, someone help me.
***A few moments earlier***
My alarm blares in my head, bouncing around my skull, and I jolt awake, almost falling off my bed in the process.
"Ugh…"
Wrenching my earphones out and tossing them to the ground, I fall heavily back into my pillow, groaning and half awake.
I'm never drinking that much that late again. That was a shit idea, even for the last day of term.
Warm sunlight spills through the screen over the windows of my Pod, bathing my room in a warm glow. Messy information boards covering the walls still blink, and the chronalights on the ceiling are still on.
"Shit!!"
That wakes me up. I fly out of bed, bound to the switch and mash it my fist.
Who's to know how far the bill's gonna rocket up!?!?!?
My Pod is small, but not "I'm fucking broke" small. Cozily small. It's efficient, clean and everything folds into something else if you glare at it hard enough.
The bill still scares me.
I yank open my wardrobe and it politely unfolds like it's showing off. Two shirts hover forward on micro-rails, both tagged with the same stupid green warning sticker:
PROPERTY OF NORTHWARD PUBLIC EDUCATION. DO NOT ALTER.
I alter it anyway. I peel it off and stick it to my mirror. Because why not?
I stumble into the kitchenette, slap my palm on the counter, and the chronaplates beneath it hum awake. A small rises out of the surface like a metal flower and starts heating water with that smug "I'm better than fire" attitude.
My eyes drift to my wall-board next to my stove, still blinking with my unfinished term project.
WAR IN THE SOUTH: ANALYSIS OF UFO BEHAVIOUR AND CHRONAPLASMA UTILIZATION.
DUE: YESTERDAY, 23:59
I squint at it. It squints back. We both know who won.
"Yeah, yeah," I mumble, scratching my hair. "I'll do it. I swear."
The board flashes:
LIE DETECTED.
I give it the one-finger salute.
DOCUMENTED.
I hate smart houses.
The kettle clicks. I drop a tea pouch in a mug and watch it steep like a tiny universe forming. Outside, my neighbourhood is calm. North Continent calm. That special brand of peaceful where the streets are clean enough to eat off and nobody actually eats off them because we're not animals.
My mind wanders and I take an unconscious sip of my tea while leaning against the counter.
Immediate regret.
It's still too hot. It burns. I hiss. I swallow anyway because I'm stubborn and stupid, which is basically the North's official personality, and while I'm still blowing into my mouth my commband vibrates on the counter. I glance at the ID and it says,
CAESAR
I pause with the mug half-raised.
My best friend Caesar's not the "good morning what a good day" type. Caesar is the "where are you and why aren't you already there" type - except he'll be two hours early for no apparent reason.
I answer reluctantly.
His face pops up in a little holo window above my sink, hair a mess, eyes half dead, like he's already fought the day and lost.
"You alive?" he asks.
"Unsure."
"You coming?"
"Where?"
He stares at me like I've personally offended his mother. Which, by the way, no one dares to do because his older sister Alexa Solace happens to be the once-in-a-blue-moon combat genius hailed as a hero in the war.
"Last day of term, Reid. You know. The thing we have every year. The boring assembly where teachers pretend they like us."
"Oh. That." I rub my face wearily "Yeah. I'm coming."
"You sound like you're lying."
"I'm not."
My wall-board flashes:
LIE DETECTED.
Caesar sees it and he smirks at me.
"Your house just called you a liar, ya piece of shit."
"My house is a snitch."
"Snitch house," he repeats, like he's tasting the phrase between his teeth. "Hurry up. If you're late, Coach is making us do laps again."
"Coach can kiss my—"
He hangs up.
I stand there for a second, staring at where his holo was, wishing I he would re-appear so I could punch through his face.
"…Right," I say to nobody. "Laps. Great. Love that."
I down the rest of my tea like it's a potion and throw on my uniform jacket. The fabric adjusts on its own, little chronafibres tightening to fit, smoothing out wrinkles. Fancy, expensive and annoying.
I shove my commband on, grab my bag, and head for the door.
Should I call Nari? Nah, she'll still be asleep at this hour. Her school doesn't break up for another two weeks anyway.
(Nari is my nickname for Esinara, my feisty younger sister.)
I decide not to, and I'll just call her after the assembly.
I freeze.
Because my front door is unlocked. I never leave it unlocked. Not because I'm paranoid but because North Continent is full of bored youngsters who've never seen the war and desperately want their own little drama. Petty theft, pranks, dumb stuff.
My door is always locked.
I stare at the hanging latch and my pulse climbs one stair.
Maybe I forgot.
Maybe I didn't.
I reach out slowly and tap the lock. It flickers red.
LOCK OVERRIDDEN.
My throat tightens.
That shouldn't be possible. My Pod system's old but it's not that old. You don't just override a lock by punching it or something, not without the owner's signature.
Unless you're…
I don't even get to finish the thought because someone is in my fucking house besides me when I live alone.
I whirl.
My kitchenette is empty.
My living space is empty.
My wall-board blinks like it didn't just witness a crime.
And then I see it.
A shadow where there shouldn't be one, tucked into the corner between the wall and the ceiling, like a stain that learned how to breathe.
My spine goes cold.
"Uh," I say, because apparently my brain has chosen idiot as my final personality. "Hey…?"
The shadow slithers to the ground, and then jumps upright.
A person in black, wrapped head to toe, face covered with mask and goggles. Another one peels off the ceiling behind him. Another one is suddenly in my doorway even though my doorway was empty half a second ago.
Three.
No.
Four.
Five.
I take one step back and bump into my counter.
My mug rattles.
That tiny sound is the loudest thing in the room.
"Heyyy," I say weakly. "You guys here for the bill?"
The leader's head tilts like he's curious.
Then he lunges at me like a fucking animal, and instantly I lash, fingers closing around the nearest object, and I hurl the mug at his forehead.
He swats it aside like it's an insult. I swing in a stupid, panicked punch and he catches my wrist.
Pain flashes up my arm as he twists, not even hard, just enough to make my joints scream.
"Okay!" I bark, eyes wide. "Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool."
He yanks me forward and as he does so I bring my knee up and drive it into his ribs.
He actually grunts.
Good.
I twist free and stumble back.
Don't get me wrong, I'm a chronotechnology, biology and engineering student. But I also excel in the odd hand-to-hand combat. Thank Anastasia I do.
Anastasia, the Goddess of Erisen - or so they call her. I don't pray, but now I'm starting to think I should've.
My heart is pounding so hard I can hear it in my teeth.
I don't have a weapon nor do I have chrona gear.
I have a mug, a counter, a snitch house and the last scraps of pride a nineteen-year-old can still pretend he owns.
One of the others flicks his hand and a thin wire snaps out, almost invisible, flying for my throat.
I duck.
The wire slices the air where my neck was and bites into the wall behind me, slicing into metal like its cheese.
I stare at it. Then I stare at them.
"Oh," I whisper. "You guys are serious about this."
They don't answer.
I bolt for the door. The one in the doorway moves to block me. I shoulder-check him and the impact stops me like I've hit a wall, and my shoulder flares with pain. He doesn't even budge, like what the fuck?
I do the only smart thing left and go up.
Kicking off the wall, I grab the top cabinet lip, and haul myself up with all the strength in my arms. My fingers slip on smooth polymer but I swing my legs up anyway, launching myself over the doorway guard's head.
I land hard in the hall outside my Pod, stumble, catch myself, and GET OUT.
Alarms should be screaming.
Neighbourhood security should trigger.
My commband should be blasting emergency warnings.
Nothing.
My commband is dead.
Of course it is.
I take the stairs one flight at a time, the impact jarring the soles of my feet through my socks. Behind me, there's no stomping chase, no yelling, no clamour.
Just silence. That makes it even scarier.
I hit the ground floor and burst out into the street.
Morning light. Clean road. A couple of commuters in smart coats. A delivery drone humming past.
Normal.
So normal it makes me want to laugh and go back home like I've just had a bad dream.
Fortunately, I don't do that.
"HELP!" I shout, waving like a maniac. "CALL SECURITY! CALL—"
One commuter turns, sees the black-clad figures stepping out of my building like shadows given limbs, and his face drains.
He turns tail and legs it. I search wildly for others but they just sort of stop, stand and stare.
What the hell?
Are they scared? Paid off? Drugged? Is this some stupid North Continent "don't get involved" culture on steroids?
I don't have time to yell bloody murder at them.
I run.
Now I'm getting chased.
They climb walls like spiders.
One of them doesn't even use the pavement. He kicks off a lamppost, grabs the side of a building, and runs along it parallel to the street like he's on a different set of physics laws.
A drone buzzes overhead. I reach up, grab it mid-flight, and rip it down.
It whines angrily, trying to pull away.
"Sorry," I gasp, and hurl it behind me.
It smacks into one of the black-clad dude's chest.
He catches it.
He looks at it.
Then he crushes it in his fist like it's a paper cup and drops the pieces.
My brain does a tiny internal scream.
I cut down an alley, vault a trash unit, stumble, keep going, barging past two gangsters who yell,
"HEY! YOU SHIT!!"
I turn briefly, and see the two of 'em shouting at me, and the horde of black-clad men directly behind them.
Nope.
My lungs are on fire now. My legs feel like someone's poured molten lead into them, but I keep working them.
I burst out of the alley into a back street lined with old chronapipes and maintenance rails. The kind of place nobody visits unless something's leaking.
Perfect.
I grab a low rail, swing myself up, and sprint along it like a balancing act.
Then a figure lands on the rail ahead of me.
I skid, feet scraping, and leap sideways onto a pipe, grabbing it with both hands.
It's warm. Vibrating faintly. Chrona flow.
He drops down in front of me, blocking the pipe too.
They're herding me like a pack of wolves cornering a hare.
My pulse spikes into panic mode.
I spin, looking for an exit, and see three more behind me, closing the alley mouth like a net tightening.
The leader steps forward.
In his hand is something small.
A dart launcher? A needle? A little tube of metal and glass.
I take one step back.
He raises it.
"NOPE."
I throw myself sideways, dropping off the pipe and rolling onto the pavement below. My shoulder screams. I scramble up and run again, half limping.
One of them drops down, and suddenly I'm surrounded.
"SHIT!!"
I have to fight. One of them dives at me, I sidestep him and kick him under the ribs. A second starts forwards. I punch him in the face, stomach, liver and finish with a hit to his throat.
"COME ON!!" I yell, swinging wildly, voice cracking.
Then something slams into my neck, just below my jaw, and pain shoots through the whole bottom half of my head. My throat closes and I can't breathe. My legs wobble under me like they've been unplugged, and my eyes start watering like crazy. Instinctively, my hands go up to my neck, but then something collides with my jaw like a gunshot.
I feel myself twirl, the world goes streaky, and then I hit the ground.
My thoughts are a total mess as they close in.
Nari… Caesar… bills… Nari… everyone… help… someone… Mom… Dad…
I should've paid the bill.
Then everything goes black.