[Player Log Start!]

[Player: Verity Monroe]

[Level: 0]

The apocalypse had come five years ago. Human civilization was destroyed, leaving only a shallow husk behind.

Wherever she went, however far she ran, she could never escape it. The reality she lived in hung heavy over her head. A glaring reminder in the form of the bloodstained sky. It had been blue once, but some days she almost couldn’t believe it. When they walked past an old mural, she had almost scoffed at the blue sky shown on it. Before a sharp look from Michael had reminded her that the world hadn’t always been like this.

It hadn’t always been a whimpering mess of scattered settlements.

Humanity had been brought low by unexplained weather disasters, and five years later, it had shown no signs of ever rising again.

Verity walked through the ruins alone at first, bomber jacket pulled nearly to her ears, and shotgun strapped to her back. She had picked up a glass umbrella to protect herself from the acid rains, slept in abandoned water reservoirs to avoid wildfires, even learnt to purify her own water to circumvent whatever stomach-eating algae had infected everywhere else.

Using her innate sense of desperation and savagery, she found herself surviving. She found herself killing, too. Only animals, at first, with their wide, fearful eyes and downy fur and heaving chests. But her stomach had growled and there wasn’t even a blade of grass around for either of them to eat. There was only one option, and she chose it again and again and again. Her despair consumed her like a haze of red. Made her feel like she was losing track of time and warping her sense of direction.

Some days, she felt less than human.

Then, she found another.

Not just other people. Those, she had seen fleeing and surviving and fighting before. No, this was a person just like her. A person with the same look of crazed desperation in their eyes as her. Verity wanted to ask them what had happened to make them feel like this. Wanted to ask about their shared connection. Wanted to build a bond with them over their mutual need for survival.

But seconds after their gazes met, the haze of red descended over her eyes. She wishes that she didn’t remember it. That she didn’t recall what happened next. But her memories in that red-tinged haze were sharper than any other memory she had.

She remembered moving, hands curled into claws. And the assailant tensing, eyes similarly bloodshot. She remembered crystal clear as she clawed the mystery person’s throat straight open, even as her mind yelled at her to stop.

That was when Verity Monroe knew that she was sick. And there was going to be no way to cure it.

Later still, a boy from her memories of before the apocalypse, named Jared Caliber, reached out to her, and invited her to join his information network. That one promise led to her doing recon on a water distributary chain, and befriending Michael Kapok.

Now she was here. Surprisingly stable, dressed as well as you could in the fallen world, and eating old roadkill around a fire surrounded by other people. They were all people from different groups, brought together to sign a treaty of resource sharing. The roast was a rare moment of indulgence to celebrate this new advancement.

Jared was pacing in front of them, waving his roast-stick as he monologued.

“Humanity is strong.” He lectured, “A few earthquakes and wildfires and acid rains shouldn’t have kept us down. We should have been able to rebuild. Come together, as we have done now, and made workarounds. Some way to work around this disaster. So, the question is… why didn’t we?”

“Because the selfish ones killed and looted the world, running it into the ground even more after we already broke the environment?” A gruff woman asked, hefting a mace over her shoulder, “Sorry to break it to you, kid, but humans suck.”

Jared tsked, crossing his arms, “And that kind of thinking is exactly what’s holding us back. People aren’t as ignorant as you think. We’re social creatures. We need each other to survive, and even the most power-hungry people would understand that and fall in line. There’s something deeper going on here and it’s my life goal to figure out what’s going on and fix it.”

Verity fidgeted as the crowd buzzed in disgruntlement. Jared was charismatic and cunning at the best of times, but he also got carried away with his Planned Apocalypse theory. If he kept going on about this, he might lose support from all the people he’d gathered here.

“But anyways.” He cleared his throat, seeming to catch onto the discontent, “We’re going to recover from this eventually. I was a bit young when the world ended, but I remember how it was. I want to get back to that world. We’re going to make a better version of that world.”

Nice recovery.

He flourished towards the nearby sign on the side of what had once been a highway and was now just part of the wasteland. Faded letters made it hard to see what was written there, but a new coat of paint had been applied over some of the letters to place emphasis on them.

“This place will be known as the Wayside Epicenter.” He announced magnanimously, “Anyone can come here and receive aid. We’ll pull together and give you help when you need it, and after that, we’re hoping that you will have knowledge, resources, and labor, when we feel the need for it.”

Murmurs of consideration. He had them hooked.

“Think about it, will ya?” He grinned, “We’ll be in business with or without your backing, because this’ll have nothing to do with our trade agreement. Consider this more as a… helping hand to humanity.”

With one final salute, he walked away from the bonfire. Verity and Michael scrambled up to flank him as his guards.

“Think I nailed it?” Jared asked, straightening the tie he had scavenged from somewhere.

“I almost can’t believe that you blackmailed them to show up.” Michael whispered in shock; his shoulders squared and posture confident despite the uncertainty in his voice.

“Just accept that this is Jared’s type of magic.” Verity suggested, “He can talk a tree into being inflammable.”

“Aw, Vera, that’s sweet.” Jared laughed, simperingly sweet. She shoved him hard enough to send him stumbling.

“You’re going to undermine my authority!” He complained between giggles.

“You do that enough yourself.”

“So, where are we going next?” Michael cut in, playing the mediator as he always did. Jared cleared his throat and sobered up.

“We’re going to need to split up again.” He explained, “Michael, you’re smart and intuitive and have a soft boy look that makes the people melt. We’ll need you as the liaison with the Gunnersons. They have a surplus of weapons and a need to establish dominance. Pretend you don’t know anything about guns and how they work.”

“After spending two months in a tent with her?” Michael joked, his sunglasses glinting as he turned to grin at Verity. Her dozen firearms burnt a hole through her jacket. Deciding not to push it, she stayed quiet and let it go.

“What else?” She asked.

Jared snapped his fingers, “I’m going back to my espionage roots. The Burk Boys have been stirring up trouble for no reason lately, and I think it might have something to do with my apocalypse theory. They burnt bridges with all the food-farming communities, but they’re still going strong somehow. I need to find out how by going deep undercover.”

The way he did best, of course. Verity wasn’t sure exactly how Jared managed to do the things that he did. He just waved his hands and said a bunch of things, and yet people followed him anyways. She tried to parse what it was that made people want to get behind Jared, but she had been unable to figure out the secret. Maybe this was just what Charisma was.

“And Vera, I don’t exactly have an assignment for you.” Jared started apologetically, “But I suppose you don’t need one, do you?”

“Yeah, course not.” She shrugged, tucking her hands into her pockets, “Scavenging, hunting, a little bit of wildlife scouting. Want me to try my hand at cartography, too?”

“No.” Jared shuddered, “Walking blind would be better than using one of your maps.”

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“Oh, screw you.” Verity scoffed, “I had no idea what I was doing, and it still turned out great.”

Michael nodded supportively, “Yeah, man. We’re all doing our best here.”

“Sure.” Jared dismissed with a wave of his hand, “Epicenter, three weeks?”

“I thought we were calling it the Wayside.”

“No, no, it’s the Epicenter of Wayside.” He corrected, “This? All of this rusty landscape? It’s all Wayside. It’s my territory, and I’m claiming ownership over it.”

“Careful, your ego is showing.” She jabbed.

Jared stuck his tongue out.

----------------------------------------

Before she disappeared into the wilderness, Verity passed by Safe Town. A secure haven that had sprung up two years ago and had held strong ever since. It had no real name, but she thought of it as Safe Town. She had never been inside, though. She couldn’t bring herself to see what lay inside.

There was also the fact that whenever she came close, she could sometimes hear people talking and children roughhousing. Being around Safe Town’s generally cheery environment made the thin red haze lower over her eyes. Her fingers itched for knives and fire. Her mind bayed for blood.

She didn’t know why, but something about Safe Town made her sickness worse. She didn’t tell anyone about this or her sickness. It was simply better to skirt away from her triggers and hope for the best.

Verity checked her backpack one last time, taking inventory once again. There was enough water and food for a two-week trip in the desert as long as she managed to use her resources wisely and didn’t run into any problems.

It only took her three days to run into said problems.

This problem came in the form of a half-dead body lying partially buried in the red sand. Verity’s instincts won out over her sickness, and she rushed forward to drag him out carefully from the dune. He still had a heartbeat, though weak, so that was a good sign. She carefully set up a jacket over his head to keep the poor kid cool and was contemplating throwing water over his head when his eyes snapped open.

Immediately, the air shifted around them. Verity knew that she had made a mistake.

This boy was just like her.

Verity tensed as the boy sat up, brushing sand out of his black hair.

“Who are you?” She asked, fighting to keep the haze out of her eyes, “Where did you come from?”

“Marc.” He murmured, “I came… came to give a warning.” Not what she asked, but she let him ramble on in heatstroke-induced delusion, “There’s a thing out there. You need to find it. All the power in the world, and it’s all yours. Verity Monroe.”

That made her freeze.

“How do you know my name?” She asked, backing away from him. Her body felt like a live wire. Something about him was setting her off, yet it wasn’t as strong as it usually was. Instead of blacking out, she was just horrifically conscious of her murderous tendencies rising to the top.

“We knew each other, before, remember?” Marc reminded her. She didn’t remember any of that. A massive chunk of her early years was missing from her brain. Maybe they had known each other when she was a kid, but she had no recollection of it.

Seeming to notice her uncertainty, he brushed it off, “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need that to know what’s up. Your mother told me to get you home. There’s something there for you. You remember that?”

Her knife was in her hand before she could even realize what she was doing.

“Don’t. Talk. About. My. Mother.” She gritted out, aiming it at his head. She hadn’t thought about that woman in years. The one who’d found her wandering aimlessly through the countryside and taken her in. The one who had abandoned her without warning three days before the world ended. Somedays she worried that Eleanor had known what was coming. Had known how to stop it. And yet still vanished.

Marc simply grinned at her drolly, “Sorry, girl, just following the programming.”

He shifted, suddenly glowing brightly. Verity backed away, just before he broke into a storm of green pixels. She swore, ducking to avoid the viridian embers.

The warning could be ignored, easily. She had a new life for herself, in this broken, desolate world. Chasing shadows would bring nothing for her. But it lingered in her mind. Plaguing her every step. She needed to see this through. If whatever was back home could help them, she owed it to Jared to investigate it.

It was a month later that they finally followed up on that lead.

Michael came with her on this mission, which she had gotten him to come along under the claim of there being farmland in the area.

Her house laid in an area which was now considered Leo Wayside. Basically, the landmass under the lion constellation, about three days of travel away from the Epicenter. It was a grueling journey between the two of them. They crossed over three different types of terrain and were chased by a wild pack of emu once.

Finally reaching the vast expanse of tough ground and withered grass filled her with relief. The skyline had changed. Buildings had collapsed. But it was still home.

“You sure any of this is fertile?” Michael asked, toeing the ground to dig through the top layer of soil.

“Probably. Hopefully.” She assured him distractedly, her eyes roving through the collapsed and decaying buildings. Trying to pick out which one was hers. “There should be fertilizer in the stores, anyway, if we check them.”

Michael grunted and followed her, wincing as his combat boot got caught on a thorny weed, “You know this place well.” He noted, “You lived here, before?”

“No. Shut up.” She replied reflexively. Something crinkled in her periphery, and she swiftly brought out her shotgun to cut down the interloper. The patch of grass she aimed at squealed and shivered before lying still. Michael hurried forward to look at their prey, before lifting a dead beaver victoriously.

Verity pumped her fist excitedly. Beavers were a rare treat, a little tough but still tasty. Almost as good as horse and deer, though those were better for larger groups and had been hunted to near extinction.

“You think there will be any food in those stores?” Michael asked, “Like, spices or something to season it? That’d be rare good luck.”

“Maybe there’s no food. It might all be eaten by a pest infestation.”

“I’ll eat the pests, then. They’ll be fresher, anyways.”

Funnily enough, the closest farmhouse ruin turned out to be hers. It was nearly unrecognizable with the patio being completely wrecked and the honeysuckle vines that had previously stretched over part of the roof were only charred corpses. They walked inside, picking their way through shards of broken china and scattered rusty cutlery. The air was thick with dust and humidity, and rays of sunlight cut easily through the ceiling, which had been eaten away by the acid rain. The place was inhospitable, except for a single room.

The room was connected to the kitchen, and while the rest of the walls had softened and decayed over time, this part of the building still stood strong against the elements somehow. Not even a single crack in the pristine eggshell paint.

“So… we’re going into that place?” Michael asked, peering into a container of cookies which had become engulfed in fluffy greenish white fungi, “Is that were farming equipment is usually stored?” He might have intended to sound sincere, but the doubt was heavy in his voice.

“No.” She answered honestly for once, “It’s probably not fertilizer. Or food. Or even pests. But I think that whatever it is… my mother wanted me to have it.”

“Oh.” Michael whispered, suddenly subdued, “I didn’t realize this was that kind of mission. You never seemed like the type to have a family.”

“I know I look like an angel, but you know I’m not really one, right?”

“Oh, har har. Blame me for you being unreal.”

Verity suppressed a roll of her eyes and threw the door open. For nearly a decade-old plank of oak, it was surprisingly heavy and solid. An effective seal for the past five years the house had been forsaken.

Since the day Eleanor had opened her door for Verity, the room beside the kitchen had been the only place which had been kept off-limits under any circumstances. Eleanor would spend long stretches of her time working on unfathomable projects. Any questioning about them would lead to only senseless monologues about home and being lost.

Now, she was finally allowed to step into the room which had enraptured her mother so, and with every second, her anticipation grew. What had it been that she had given her life to cultivate? What magnum opus was going to complete her legacy?

But the room was completely barren. Verity paused, shining a flashlight around to make absolutely sure. There was no giant weapon. No maps of faraway places. No great storeroom of seeds for a doomsday situation.

Just dust, cobwebs, and a single metal briefcase in the middle of it all.

It felt like a cruel joke.

Feeling none of the same dejection she was, Michael stubbornly elbowed past her, reaching for the briefcase. He pulled it open to reveal a glass panel on one side, and a keyboard on another. He made a noise of glee that seemed too happy for the bind they were in.

“Dude! Don’t you get it? It’s a laptop!” He reminded her, peering at her over the device.

Verity blinked, as though a core memory was being slotted into place. Oh, right. A laptop. It had been… years since she’d seen one. It felt almost unreal. There was a giddiness that spread through her at the idea of a laptop. A laptop half a decade after the end of the world. When most devices had been destroyed years ago.

She opted to express none of her excitement, instead simply asking him the practical question, “Does it even turn on?”

He screwed his face up for a second, reaching forward to press one of the many buttons. It made a chiming noise and the screen lit up a brilliant white light as an answer.

Except white wasn’t the only glow in the completely darkened room. They were being bathed in neon green, too. Verity craned her neck upwards to look at where this green light was coming from. A few inches away from her head, there was a floating green box with black letters.

[You have been Upgraded to Player!]

Michael was also staring at an invisible spot above his own head, so if she was hallucinating, at least it was a joint hallucination.

“This… this is real, right?” He whispered.

“Seems to me, yeah.” She agreed, dumbfounded. The words were already twisting and morphing to display a new message.

[The Game has Begun!]

[New Long-term Mission: Break the Apocalypses]

[Difficulty: S+]

[Details: Stop all Apocalypse Events. (Side-Mission: Keep Console Safe)]

[Time Limit: ∞]

[Support Summons: 1 Interdimensional Helper]

[Rewards: Survival]

[Accept Long-term Mission?]

[{x} Yes { } No]

This was a bad idea. Some sort of madness or technology or magic. Maybe her sickness was warping into whatever this was meant to be. But one glance at Michael and the hope in his eyes, and she knew that she had to try. Try to end the apocalypse. For the people she loved, if not for herself.

So she clicked [Yes].

[Long-Term Mission Accepted!]

[Summoning Randomized Helper…]

The new message blinked once, twice, thrice. And then the letters dissolved, just like Marc from the desert had done.

Instead of disappearing, however, the hailstorm of pixels gathered back on the ground, reforming into… a tall boy, nearly a man, who immediately faceplanted into the ground upon transportation.

Verity jumped backwards, knife already in hand, as the boy rubbed blearily at cone shaped ears at the top of his head. Seriously, was he even human? What was he?

The ever so helpful messages were back.

[Summoned Level 7 Djinn-Fusion Feline Shifter!]

Oh, they were going to have a lot to explain. And she wasn’t exactly sure how. She hoped this guy would know more about whatever the Game was than they did.

[Player Log End!]