Rain hit the window hard. It wasn't a soft rain you'd want to dance in. This was the kind of dirty rain that always fell on the lower parts of Toronto, called the Undercity. The raindrops made streaks on the strong plastic window, blurring the bright neon lights from the fancy Spire District high above. Down on the wet streets, shiny hover-cars zipped by silently. People rushed past, plugged into virtual worlds that were probably way better than this one.
Tristan Nash lived far away from all the bright and happy parts the virtual world had to offer. His small apartment was a mess of wires and gadgets. The air smelled like metal, electricity, and old coffee. Cables snaked across the floor like traps, all leading to a workbench piled high with junk parts, small tools, and projects he hadn't finished. This tiny room was his lab, but it also felt like his prison. Tristan was thirty-five years old. When he saw himself in a dark computer screen, he looked like a skinny guy with messy dark hair that wouldn't stay tied back. His smart eyes hid behind thick glasses, always looking nervous. He wore a button-down shirt that was too big and plain pants. He didn't look cool or powerful like the villains he liked in his favorite video game, Super Pretty Ranger Girls.
Right now, he was working on a small plastic toy, an action figure called.
"Cutie Ranger Blossom."
He carefully attached a tiny computer chip to its back with a hot soldering iron. His hands were mostly steady, but he felt anxious inside. This wasn't some amazing invention that would impress the big tech company, Atlas Corps. They always sent him emails saying 'no thanks'. This was just something small he could actually finish, something he could control in a world that felt way too big and fast.
"Almost done, Blossom. Just need to program you to say nice things.""
He whispered. His voice sounded scratchy, like he hadn't talked much lately. The toy sat on a stack of computer chips, not moving.
Suddenly, a loud beep came from his main computer. A call was coming in. He froze. Was it another rejection email? Or the computer program reminding him to pay rent? The caller ID just said: UNKNOWN. He ignored it. The beeping sound was annoying in his quiet, messy lab. Dealing with people was hard. Machines were easier.
He turned back to the toy and picked up a tiny screwdriver.
"Okay,"
he sighed, trying to sound calm.
"Let's have you tell me I'm smart. Someone needs to."
The annoying beeping finally stopped. The room felt quiet, almost too quiet. Tristan adjusted his glasses and looked closely at the tiny wires he was working on. He just needed to connect the main power wire...
THRRRUMMM.
A deep, strange rumble shook the floor. The tools on his workbench rattled. This wasn't the normal sound of hover-trucks flying overhead or loud music from next door. This sound felt deeper, like it was coming from inside his bones. Little bits of dust floated in the air.
"Bad building?"
He muttered, as he set down the screwdriver to stop working.
"This part of the city is built so cheap..."
He checked a screen that reported any seismic activity. Nothing. No earthquakes, no construction accidents nearby. That was weird.
Then, the lights flickered. They didn't just blink off and on. They faded, like they were running out of power. His computers made unhappy whining noises as their backup batteries turned on with loud clicks. Warning messages flashed on his main screen: massive energy loss happening all over the city! The energy readings were higher than anything he'd ever seen, showing types of energy that didn't match any technology he knew about.
"What is going on?"
He leaned closer to the screen, typing fast. He brought up views from cameras outside. The rain seemed heavier now. Through the downpour, the city's neon lights blinked like crazy. High up, near the Spire District's peaks, a patch of the sky glowed with a weird, sick-looking green light.
Another shake hit the building, harder this time. He heard a faint scream from the street outside, but it was quickly lost in the city noise. Tristan started to feel scared. His logical brain couldn't explain this. Glitches didn't drain power from the whole city or shake buildings.
He turned on his best scanner, one he'd built himself from old army parts. The screen flickered, messed up by all the weird energy, but he could start to see a shape. Something huge and dark was hanging high in the sky. It seemed to suck in light and energy around it, like a black hole in the city's sensors. It wasn't solid, more like... a rip in the air itself.
Real panic, cold and sharp, finally hit him. Those stories about creatures from other places – maybe they weren't just stories? The energy readings were crazy, doing things that seemed to break the rules of science he knew. His brain raced, trying to figure it out, but nothing fit.
ROOOOAAARR!
A terrible noise blasted through the air. Then came the sounds of metal tearing apart and buildings crashing down, much closer now. The building he was in groaned loudly. A picture fell off the wall and smashed on the floor. The Cutie Ranger Blossom toy fell off its stack of chips and landed silently among the wires.
Tristan jumped back from the window just as the plastic bent inward, cracking under pressure he couldn't see. The creepy green light got brighter, filling his messy room with a scary glow. Outside, everything was turning into a swirling mess of energy and destruction. The roaring sound got louder and louder, pressing in on him like a giant hand, making it hard to breathe. This wasn't technology he knew.
Suddenly, the world turned into pain. The floor smashed upwards, throwing Tristan hard against his workbench. Sharp metal cut into his side. He gasped, tasting blood and dust. He looked up through watery eyes and saw the ceiling crack open. Above him, the sky was on fire with swirling green flames. The roaring sound was everywhere now, so loud it wasn't even a sound anymore – it was just the feeling of everything being destroyed.
His apartment fell apart around him. Computers exploded, walls caved in, and his workbench with all his little projects disappeared into the chaos. He was falling, spinning through smoke, heat, and broken bits of building. He saw the street below one last time – but it wasn't a street anymore. It was a giant, swirling hole eating the city. Everything he knew, everything he owned, anyone he might have known – gone. Just like that.
Panic clawed at his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the final impact, for the end. The noise was absolute, the feeling of falling endless. He tumbled through darkness, slammed against unseen debris, the impacts jarring his bones, stealing his breath. He smelled burning plastic, scorched metal, and something else... something coppery and wet. Blood. Maybe his, maybe someone else's.
Then, a sudden, violent stop. Not the crushing finality he expected, but a jarring halt against something solid yet yielding. He was wedged, pinned between shattered concrete slabs and twisted metal beams. Above him, the green hell-sky still raged, raining down fire and debris, but somehow, this small pocket of wreckage held. He could hear the screams of the dying, the groaning collapse of the city around him, the monstrous roar of whatever was causing this.
Pain flared through his body – his side felt like it was ripped open, his head throbbed, limbs felt twisted at unnatural angles. He tried to move, but sharp agony shot through him, pinning him in place. He was trapped, bleeding, surrounded by death and destruction. The sheer, overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over him, colder than the rain still finding its way through the cracks. He was nothing. A bug caught in a hurricane.
But he was alive. By some impossible, stupid stroke of luck, the collapsing building had formed a cage around him instead of crushing him flat. Alive, buried in the heart of the apocalypse.