Nothing matters... :(
Nothing matters! :)
"Hands in the fucking air! Don't try anything!"
"Would you like to round up and donate to send aid to starving children in Yunder?"
"Didn't you hear me, you dumbass! I'll really will fucking shoot!"
"I will have to charge you an extra 5 Polars for the bag, you know, plastic and all that."
"You fucker! Just put the money in the bag!"
Finally lifting my eyes, I realize I'm being robbed.
Resting my face on my hand, I sigh. "You know, you'd think having two global catastrophes would bring us closer together. Then again, self-preservation always comes first."
"Are you trying to die?!"
"Would certainly be better than living."
"Wha-, well..."
"Is this your first time robbing someone?"
"n-... no! So you'd better hand over the cash."
"Listen, you're the third robbery today, so you'd have better odds searching for money under vending machines."
"Whatever! Just give me the money!"
I begin to pack up the cash and hand it to him.
"That's...it?"
I nod with pity. "That's it."
"I- fuck!" He slams his fist against the counter. "Then give me a Hujo bar!" He points to one of the candy bars behind me.
"You like these things?" I grab one and the Junko Jims beside them. "try these, they taste way better in my opinion."
He raises his eyebrow as he snags both, shoving them in the bag. Making his way to the door, he pauses before turning. "It's not always cloudy out, try and find the sun."
He's certainly one of the more empathic and philosophical robbers. "If there's sun, why are you doing this?"
"Ain't no rest for us wicked."
Slowly nodding my head, the automatic doors open with a chime.
The man leaves, looking back with an expression of pity.
*BANG!*
In the next moment, the man is lit up, his body shot to a tattered mess.
A group of Rampagers rappel down from a hovering heli.
"Suspect down!"
"Get his anchor!"
One of the large officers rips the plastic core from the man's exploded chest.
Sirens blare as they drive their hovering cruisers away.
Pulling out the hidden drawer below the register, I turn my back to the camera as I pull out two thin wads of cash.
Thank you, random robber, you just paid Toko's rent for next month.
Leaning back in my chair, my eyes search for something interesting to think about.
The television mounted on the ceiling draws my attention as a large Pioneer stands beside a reporter.
"The Strain have been making moves against the northern defense, people have grown scared and uncertain, so what are the chances we win this battle?"
The heavily armored man standing beside the reporter is a famous Pioneer, Bastille. His black armor flickers a neon pink, blinking at every theatrical movement.
With a clenched fist, his voice booms. "I fought head to head with their general, a man of honor and strength. So, if I die, I can say with full certainty it would be an honor to lose my head to that man."
The news reporter gives a look that could only be called concern.
Bastille grabs the mic. "That's why we should be recruiting; adding these foolish barriers only separates us. You know, I nearly lost an arm wrestling match with a hobo the other day, give that man a little training with a gun and the strain would be as good as dead." He points to the camera. "Also, I said nearly, I still won."
A man goes behind Bastille and whispers something in his ear.
"Oh, I'm not supposed to say that?" He sighs as his voice goes monotone. "I think this will be a flawless victory for mankind. The Strain will never see us coming."
The Pioneers and the rest of mankind are separated by laws of blood, with exceptions like special talent, which is commonly brought in when their manpower is low.
Although the mortality rate of these knights is high, the risk is worth the reward.
Money, fame, popularity, who would turn that down?
Me.
Sliding down the garage door, I lock the front entrance.
Grabbing my belongings, I snatch a lottery ticket. The boss always gets mad at me for it. But, if I can't get excited about my life, then I might as well fantasize about the possibility of a better one.
This one is space themed, three satellites make a jackpot of three million polars.
Scratching the ticket, I get a planet, one satellite... another satellite, one more and I win the jackpot.
My eyes widen...
two more left...
Scratching another one... planet
Last one, cmon, cmon,
And...
Planet
I exhale with defeat, well, at least I got something.
Even 100 polars woud-
4 polars.
Despite winning, I feel even more disappointed because of the hope I was given.
Yet that's all it takes, one split second can forever shift the course of reality.
Like a crack in a ship's hull, a once merry boat ride turned into a frozen hell.
A gun goes off, only taking mere moments to find its target. Yet the bullet could be the cause of a world war that causes the death of 75 million
Or, Earth's reversal to the great attractor. Causing humanity to die 3 million times before being brought back.
I wonder if people still worked a 9-5 before the Decade's Extraction.
Yet another figment of reality, a world without 9-5.
Picking up my bag, I exit the convenience store through the back, locking the door behind me.
Walking down the alley, despite being a random backwater alley, it is crystal clean, just like every other part of the city.
Throwing the lottery ticket in the trash, it vanishes without leaving a trace.
Walking through this electric cityscape, the streets pulse with life, bathed in neon glow from countless signs advertising robot restaurants, arcades, and vibrant nightlife. Everywhere I turn, storefronts flash with animated advertisements, their colors shifting and morphing like a digital dream.
The buildings around me shimmer in shades of pink and purple, their glass facades reflecting the dazzling neon hues of the pastel night sky. Palm trees line the sidewalks, their leaves tinged with an unnatural glow, swaying gently in the warm coastal breeze. To my right, a shallow waterway flows, its surface rippling under the moonlight.
The sky above is a cosmic spectacle— pink and green planets hover alongside swirling galaxies. A streamlined monorail glowing in neon yellow and red glides silently along a sleek, elevated track.
Even though he sells illegal goods, his store is vibrant gold and white. While he may run a black market, he's a clean freak first.
Stepping up to the counter, the cloaked man has his head hung low as he holds up his hand. "The future of tomorrow will bring about a shift in our perspective for the junction of time and space."
"Uh...yeah...sure."
He tilts his head up. "Oh, Coffin. What brings you here? Archaic armaments? Continuum capsules?"
"No, Reefer, I just want a gun."
"A gun, you say?" He begins to giggle. "Aren't you the lucky one; a customer just dropped off an old gun he had, with it holds powers unbeknownst to the user, the ability to consume the target's mind, the ability to speak, within holds secrets of the cosmic voi-"
"What's the saying? Fool me once, shame on me, fool me twice...?"
He shrugs, "Gotta say I at least tried. Anyway, he said one could anchor oneself to the gun itself. I'm sure it's a stronger anchor than whatever you have right now."
"I'm not anchored to anything."
"...Huh... still?... then this is certainly a good buy."
"Just give me a normal gun and one bullet."
"One bullet, so confident in your accuracy."
"It's hard to miss when the gun is pointed at my own head."
"Oh... I see, well, unfortunately, this is the only gun I have to offer at the moment. I will give you a discount, 347 polars, I'll throw in an extra bullet for free."
"347? 250, That thing looks like shit."
"Are you trying to run me out of business? And what does it matter, your soul won't be able to use it when it's in the stratosphere."
"It's not for me, I'm giving the rest of my money to Toko." Waving, I begin to walk away. "Whatever, I'll find a different seller."
"Wait! Wait! Let's be rational! 300, split the difference."
"275."
He pauses before nodding. "As a goodbye discount, 280."
Handing over the cash, he hesitates. "Are you sure you want to do this? There's no coming back."
"You're only sweetening the deal. And why do you care anyway?"
"Well... I can't lose my best customer."
"I appreciate the concern for my wallet, but I've been dead for a long time, I'm just putting a stamp on it."
He hands over the gun. "Well, then Coffin... Good luck in your next life."
"Goodbye, Reefer."