Episode 1: Phase 1

Hyperion City never slept, but for Rylen Voss, life in its shadowy underbelly felt like a never-ending nightmare. The towering spires of neon and chrome mocked him from above, their gleaming surfaces reflecting the prosperity he could never reach. Below, the air was thick with the hum of neglected machinery, the occasional hiss of leaking pipes, and the distant murmurs of survival.

Rylen leaned against the rusted frame of his home—a makeshift pod jammed into an alley so narrow it was a miracle he could breathe. Inside, a single holo-screen flickered with static before resolving into the face of his landlord, Mr. Griggs.

"You're late on rent again, Voss," the man growled. "I ought to toss you out with the trash!"

Rylen sighed, his stomach growling in agreement. "Relax, Griggs. I'll have your money by the end of the week. Probably."

"Probably doesn't pay the bills, kid." The screen went black, leaving Rylen alone with his thoughts.

He slumped into the single chair in his pod, his mind racing. Another week scavenging in the scrapfields for tech parts wasn't going to cut it. Not when he had to dodge gangs, drones, and the occasional mutant rat the size of a small dog. Still, what choice did he have? He was just Rylen Voss, the guy who couldn't even afford a gene mod to fix his astigmatism, let alone enhance his strength or reflexes.

In Hyperion City, people were ranked by their enhancements—bioscans determined your worth, your future. Rylen had taken his scan years ago. "Null" was what they called him. No enhancements, no potential. Just… nothing.

His stomach growled again, louder this time. "Well, guess I better get moving," he muttered to himself. "The rats won't hunt themselves."

As he stepped outside, the alley greeted him with its usual charm—a mix of mildew and burnt circuitry. He navigated through the labyrinthine streets, keeping his head down. The higher-class citizens rarely ventured into the lower tiers, but when they did, it was never a good sign.

Turning a corner, he spotted a familiar figure—Jax, a fellow scavenger and occasional friend. "Hey, Jax!" Rylen called out.

Jax glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Rylen! Still breathing, huh? Miracles do happen."

"Yeah, and one day I'll wake up with a billion credits and my own ship," Rylen shot back. "But until then, got any leads on a decent haul?"

Jax scratched his chin. "Might've heard about an old crash site out in the wastelands. Word is, it's untouched. Could be some good scrap there."

Rylen's eyes narrowed. "And you're just… giving this info away? What's the catch?"

"No catch," Jax said, shrugging. "I'm just too lazy to check it out myself. Plus, I figured you could use the exercise."

"Thanks, Jax. Your generosity is overwhelming."

As Rylen made his way toward the outskirts of the city, the air grew colder, the lights dimmer. The wastelands were a no-man's-land, a place where the city's refuse and forgotten relics were dumped. It wasn't just dangerous—it was forbidden.

The crash site wasn't hard to find. A twisted heap of metal jutted out from the ground like the skeleton of some ancient beast. Rylen approached cautiously, his breath visible in the frigid air. He climbed into the wreckage, his hands trembling—not from fear, of course, but from the cold. Definitely the cold.

Inside the wreck, he spotted something unusual: a glowing orb nestled among the debris. It pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.

"Okay, this definitely doesn't look ominous," he muttered, reaching out to touch it. The moment his fingers brushed the surface, a shockwave of energy burst forth, knocking him backward.

As the world spun around him, Rylen heard a voice—calm, commanding, and utterly alien.

"You have been chosen."

He blinked, struggling to sit up. "Chosen for what? Free therapy? Because I could really use that right now."

The voice didn't answer. Instead, the orb dissolved into a stream of light, flowing into Rylen's chest.

"Okay… this is fine. Totally normal," he said to himself, though the crackling energy in his veins begged to differ.

As he stumbled to his feet, his surroundings seemed to shift. The wreckage felt less like a crash site and more like… a test.

And he wasn't sure he wanted to know what came next.

---

Episode 1: Phase 2

Rylen staggered out of the wreckage, clutching his chest. The glow had vanished, but the sensation of electricity coursing through his veins remained. His breathing was uneven, his vision swimming as if reality had decided to play tricks on him.

"Okay," he muttered. "Let's think this through. Step one: don't panic. Step two: definitely panic."

He stumbled toward a jagged piece of metal to steady himself, only for it to crumple beneath his touch as though it were made of paper. He froze, staring at the mangled scrap.

"Uh… what?"

The sound of boots crunching on gravel snapped him out of his daze. Rylen turned to see a group of enforcers in sleek black armor approaching. Their faces were hidden behind visors, but the glowing insignia on their uniforms—the mark of the Paragon Syndicate—was unmistakable.

"You there!" one of them barked, aiming a plasma rifle at Rylen. "Step away from the site. Unauthorized access to Paragon property is a criminal offense."

Rylen raised his hands, his mind racing. "Wait, this junk pile is yours? Looks more like you're running a really bad recycling program."

The enforcer didn't laugh. "Final warning. Surrender or be neutralized."

Neutralized? That didn't sound promising. Rylen took a cautious step back, but the enforcers advanced, their weapons humming with lethal intent.

"Okay, think, Rylen," he muttered under his breath. "You've got… something weird going on. Maybe… maybe you can use it?"

One of the enforcers fired, the plasma bolt sizzling through the air. Rylen flinched, throwing his hands up instinctively. The next moment, a translucent barrier of energy erupted in front of him, absorbing the blast.

The enforcers hesitated, clearly as stunned as he was.

"Oh, great," Rylen said, looking at his hands. "Now I'm a walking glow stick. That's just what I needed in my life."

Another enforcer charged, swinging a baton crackling with electricity. Rylen stepped back, but something in him reacted before he could think. A pulse of energy shot from his body, sending the attacker flying into a heap of scrap.

Rylen blinked. "Okay. Definitely not normal."

The remaining enforcers regrouped, their weapons trained on him. "Subject is exhibiting anomalous behavior," one of them said into a comms device. "Requesting immediate backup."

Backup? No way was Rylen sticking around for that. He turned and bolted, his feet pounding against the ground. The air seemed to hum around him, each step faster than the last.

He didn't stop running until he was far from the wreckage, the towering spires of Hyperion City looming in the distance. Ducking into an alley, he leaned against the wall, his chest heaving.

"What the hell is happening to me?" he whispered.

As if in response, the voice from earlier echoed in his mind. "The power is within you, Rylen Voss. But beware—great strength invites even greater enemies."

Rylen groaned. "Oh, sure. Cryptic warnings. That's helpful. Can't you just tell me what's going on? Or at least give me a user manual?"

The voice was silent. Typical.

Rylen's thoughts were interrupted by the faint sound of footsteps. He peered around the corner and spotted a figure watching him from the shadows.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his pulse quickening.

The figure stepped into the dim light, revealing a tall, cloaked stranger with piercing silver eyes. "You're not ready yet," the stranger said, their voice calm but laced with urgency. "But if you want to survive, you'll have to be. They'll come for you, Rylen. And when they do, you must fight."

Before Rylen could respond, the stranger turned and disappeared into the darkness, leaving behind only a faint shimmer in the air.

Rylen sank to the ground, his head spinning. First, glowing energy. Now cryptic warnings from mysterious strangers.

"This day just keeps getting better," he muttered. Then, with a dry laugh: "At least I didn't get mugged by a mutant rat. Small victories, right?"

As the distant hum of Paragon drones grew louder, Rylen knew one thing for certain—his life would never be the same again.