{[No path is taken for free. Each route is a gamble. Our steps determine who we are and, ultimately, who we will become.]}

Melissa learned something a long time ago. The meek may inherit the world, but currently, the violent rule it.

Blood rolled down her thigh, and tears filled her face. At one point, her screams had turned hoarse. The strength of a single soldier was enough to overwhelm her. But these three each had a turn. They hadn't even bothered eating the pizza she delivered them. A job she had gotten a waiver to work at her age.

Tainted, painted in white and red, her soul twisted and warped as she gritted her teeth. Her prayers were silent, and her essence was stunned and afraid. Her mind escaped to one cruel question.

What would happen to her after they were done?

Her nails dug into the carpet as he pushed her hips down.

“What are you doing?” Melissa had memorized the tones of their voices, from how they rumbled with their laughter to their moans and their bickering with each other. But this was a new voice.

The music of the club had drowned out most of his words. But there he stood. He was a soldier, except he wore a unique patch on his shoulder.

Nobody spoke. They were caught with their hands above the coals.

Ashner charged towards the three men, taking a swing at the largest one, knocking him away from Melissa. He was so large Ashner had to jump to nail him in his face.

Ashner shoved the other away. The thug tumbled against a cabinet and fell ass-first on the carpet.

The girl's mind clicked, and she reached for her shirt. Putting it on quickly, Ashner put himself between her and the three men as she fled out the door.

Two of them charged while the other put his pants on. Ashner was pushed out of the room, and the girl yelped as he slammed into the wall. She stopped for a second and took in Ashner's face.

“RUN!" Ashner elbowed the soldier, who was dumb enough to have his head shoved near his ribs.

The third man charged Ashner, knocking the air out of his lungs. He turned towards Melissa, but Ashner held the three in place. Outnumbered and outpowered, he made his stand.

Melissa turned and ran, barefoot and scared. Her most intimate parts burned, and her vocal cords were strained. Behind her, the soldier who had saved her roared in pain.

She ran out of the VIP section and side-stepped through hundreds of people dancing. Some people reeked of alcohol. She didn't care. Melissa wanted to escape her nightmare.

“Stop her!” That voice, it was him. Her heart raced, and her arms shook. Instead of pushing people aside and leaving through the front door, she took another path, opened an 'employee only' door, and dashed past musical equipment and wires until she found another door.

It opened, and she ran. Barefoot and ignoring the small rocks that dug into her heels. She had expended her energy, and now she gasped for air. She jumped over a cement block that led into a dimly lit freeway.

Melissa dared to glance back. The three men were outside. One of them held her savior by his neck. His face was bloodied.

She stumbled, and then nothing.

A body flung across the road, smashing and wrapping into a broken light pole.

A box truck hit her. Instead of sticking around, it turned its lights on and drove off.

One of the men laughed like he was in the world's most fantastic comedy club. "She's such a dumb bitch!"

“Fuck, she's dead, isn't she?" The taller man rubbed the back of his head. He was a beast of a man. Easily over six-seven and with an Olympic-style body. "We're fucked, Ensley, what do we do?"

“Nah,” The man who had struggled to put his pants on was the only one among the three who was shirtless. “Don't forget who my dad is… He'll cover this shit up.”

Ensley smiled and glanced at Ashner. He was smaller than all three. “We just need to pin this on someone… And I know the lucky guy.”

“Fuck you.” Ashner spat as blood ran down his chin.

“You've got some balls on you. That girl just turned fifteen. Don't you know that's the best year to bang them.” Ensley smiled. “But while our topic is still on balls, mine in particular… Thanks to you, I only got off once…”

What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Jean.” Ensley nudged at his slimmer friend. He was a handsome man with green eyes. Ashner gritted his teeth. A man like him didn't need to force himself on anyone, yet he did it anyway. “The acid.”

Jean reached into his cargo pants and pulled out a clear vial. Ashner tried to fight back, but the enormous man held him tightly. His arms were large, like watermelons and his strength forced Ashner to his knees.

“I learned that a pretty face tends to have more people believe them… And I also don’t like to be reminded of the things I… Occasionally do to people… So I came up with a solution.” Ensley unscrewed the vial. “I just erase my problems with a little acid.”

Ensley poured the liquid on Ashner's face. The moment it smeared on him, he sensed his flesh melt. It dripped like hot wax on the ground.

The three men laughed as Ashner dug his face into the dirt, hoping to clean it off. The pain overwhelmed him, and he lost consciousness.

All to the mocking laughter of the three men above him.

The face of the girl he failed to save formed in his mind.

I’m sorry.

*******

Ashner learned something a long time ago. Experience serves as a teacher.

{[If you’re betrayed, abandoned, or tossed aside, it’s your own fault.]}

Ashner scuffled down the worn-out road that neighbored a thick forest. Not a single street light was lit. His phone gave him enough light to move forward. It was the middle of the night, and the cold was settling in. On his face, he sensed the battered pain of getting punched. Forty pounds of muscle against his own, he was a fool who made a habit of picking fights with men larger than him.

The chilly wind numbed his outer wounds. Alcohol numbed his inner pain. “I’m so stupid.”

He had been at a party and locked eyes with the wrong girl. She had her eyes on his flannel shirt and worn-out jeans. The girl occasionally traded glances with him. Ashner kept his eyes on hers and smiled when they locked.

She didn’t peek away. In fact, she giggled and gave him a cute smile. Ashner took a second to recall that he wore a mask over his face. One that was made of hard plastic, he had several, each with a different design and color.

She must think I look silly with this mask on.

Alcohol played a factor and created the liquid courage he needed. It's a shame that's all it did. After her boyfriend caught on, he took a cheap shot at Ashner, bringing him to his knees. Not getting the girl wasn't what pissed him off Ashner.

Losing half his bottle of Jack when he tumbled to the ground did that.

The girl took devious pleasure in the fact that two drunk men were fighting over her. That was until Ashner's mask came off. The rubber straps snapped apart.

The drunk girl screamed, and all eyes locked on him. Like he was the main attraction of a freak show. Ashner grabbed his mask and held it against his face. What's worse, at the end of the whole confrontation, somehow, he was the asshole. The girl turned on him, and several men resolved themselves to take action. Striking the face he desperately tried to hide.

The acid Jean and Ensley had used on him was experimental. It was an acid-fungus hybrid that grew on its host. It ate his face little by little. Even after new skin had grown over it. Some days, Ashner squeezed out white and yellow puss. If he let them turn into blisters, they would burn and throb. But deep down, Ashner accepted it as his punishment.

A righteous price for letting her die.

A few people tossed Ashner out onto the cold pavement. This time, his alcohol didn’t spill. He smirked as he brought it to his lips. Lifting his mask just enough to take a drink.

Nothing had changed. He was drafted as a teen and survived the Third World War. Ashner fought alongside brave men and women and witnessed most of them die. And what did he have to show for it? A dishonorable discharge, an empty bank account, a shitty apartment that was falling apart. And a mask to hide his face… How had the world gotten harder? People weren’t shooting at him anymore. He shook his head and sipped on his metal flask.

“Fuck them all.” He exhaled slowly. “I wish I could’ve gotten laid at least once before my face burned…”

Rain started sprinkling down on him. Ashner glanced up.

Figures.

He sprinted across the road, irritated that the rain was just adding salt to his wounds. He was drunk and found himself struggling with each step. The open road wasn't helping him. Shelter was nowhere to be found, so he ran deep into the woods, where the rain was less severe.

A place most people have avoided since the war.

Jogging and alcohol are a bad combination. Mix it with tree roots and rain, and you have a tripping hazard. About a fifth of a mile into the woods, he discovered something. He was running alongside a worn-out road with no sense of direction. He glanced back, trying to find his bearings, but only tumbled down a small path. Mud and clay dug into his pants and his jacket. It was cold but not cold enough to freeze the water.

“Damn it!” Ashner stood up, knocking the mud off his pants. On his hand, he still gripped the flask tightly. He had left it open when he tumbled, so now the rim of the flask was covered in mud. He tossed it deep into the woods. “Fuck it all!”

In his other hand was the mask. He wanted to crumble it under the strength of his hands. He hated it, but he needed it… Defeated, he caressed it instead…

Irritated and wet, something caught his eye. Further down the forest, on an unkempt and worn-away path, was a house. It was old and partly burned down, remnants of what might’ve been a road that was now overgrown with grass and some small trees. A home more than likely destroyed at the early start of the war.

I doubt anyone is living there. But it's better than the rain.

Ashner stumbled towards it. A part of its roof was still intact. The young man walked in through the part that was charred away. A broken door blocked his path, almost like someone had kicked a hole through it. Maybe a homeless man? But he doubted one would walk this deep into the forest since the door handle was beautiful and reflective, like it was made of gold instead of copper. Luckily, the house kept the rain at bay. Some parts dripped raindrops, but they were far and in between. The old home had a couch that was rotting into itself and a few moldy paintings. Oddly, they had yet to be stolen.

Termites and ants were eating away the wooden furniture. Ashner found a metal chair and sat on it, removing his jacket and hanging it on a metal rod that stuck out above the old fireplace.

“Finally, some good luck.” Ashner grabbed an old table and broke its legs off, tossing them into the fireplace with pieces of old newspaper under the wood. He lit it, and the flames came to life.

Sliding his metal chair towards the fire he let the buzz hit him.

Ashner held the mask. It had two slits for his eye, curved for his nose, and a small slit for his mouth. It wasn't large enough for him to eat through it, but it was helpful for talking. He giggled to himself. His life had taken so many turns, yet he had always managed to make the wrong choices. It happened so often that when something actually went his way, he cherished it.

He didn’t have a city to call home. His parents lived on the coast and were some of the first victims of the war. He was drafted into the fight with his older brother… In the end, he was the only one that survived. His brother's unit was never found but was in the direct blast of a nuke.

Ashner’s past was full of death, while his present was filled with solitude. He put the mask on his face. Holding it with his fingers.

Ashner didn't want to sleep inside this house, perceiving his luck. Mutated wolves or bears would attack him while he slept. Instead, he tossed in a few more pieces of wood to keep himself warm. Next to the fireplace was a large mirror. It was faded, but it still worked. Ashner caught a glimpse of himself.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

When did I stop caring?

Ashner meddled with his unkempt hair. It was curly and filled with traces of mud. Thanks to the acid his facial hair now grew in patches. These were things he had control over… But the biggest change were his eyes. They lacked a spark. Both of them were empty, a reflection of his soul.

He slowly moved the mask from his face.

Underneath it was his shame. Most of his nose was gone. He no longer had eyebrows, and half his lower lip was gone, exposing his teeth. Not to mention, parts of his face bloated and released yellow and white puss occasionally. Due to the acid's nature, surgery wasn't possible… Not that he had the funds for it…

He recalled the girl’s face and the moment she turned towards him on the freeway. And the moment she got hit. Ashner gritted his teeth.

I’m a monster… Inside and out…

Behind him, a broken door slowly faded away. Ashner regarded the mirror and shook his head, debating if it was the booze playing mind games, but it wasn’t. The door faded away completely, and in its place, a new door started appearing. He slid his chair around, both curious and scared.

The door appeared and disappeared like a ghost. This new door was complete. It wasn't broken anymore, but it was elegant, too elegant for this rustic house.

It was made of redwood. Dragons, mountains, and clouds were carved into it. The lower it went, the more the carving shifted into something similar to an ocean and even some lands with trees. Maybe he was dreaming, or perhaps he was just going crazy.

Losing your mind to this world was reasonable for him. After all, only the lucky ones live with stability, respect, and love. He walked towards the door and gripped the handle, buzzed, and with his face still numb, he twisted the knob and opened it. Beyond the door was a white room.

Something out of all physical possibilities. Ashner scowled awkwardly inside the doorway, then back outside. His world was leaking and dark, but this room had candles and was dry.

I can’t be that drunk.

He stuck his hand in and fathomed something.

It was warm inside.

Ashner reached into his cargo pocket, pulling out a switch blade. His instincts told him he was safe, but he wasn’t foolish enough to trust himself sober, much less drunk. Keeping his knife at the ready, he walked around the room.

Candles flickered as the cold air merged with the warmth of the chamber. The room had a bed, a bookcase, and a drawer for clothes. Stepping more profoundly into the mysterious space, Ashner inspected the candles. None of the wax had melted, and not a speck of dust was visible.

On the drawer lay a golden key with the same design as the handle.

Ashner reached for it curiously.

Traveler Role Accepted.

XP:0

Ashner stepped back, tumbling on the bed. A pop-up, similar to spam, emerged in front of him. Wherever his eyes went, the sign followed.

Unraveling the window wasn't hard. Ashner focused on the pop-up. It was simple but would only show his XP level and role. Ashner imagined it fading away.

It did.

“That was weird.” He tossed the bed covers over himself. “Whatever.”

Waking up came with dehydration and the same pop-up screen.

“So I wasn’t that wasted.” He stood up once-overing the room. The candles were still lit, and none of them had so much as melted with the flame. Another thing caught his eye. The room had two doors. Ashner stood off the bed, leaving the covers tossed to their side.

“Which door was it?”

He paced towards the closest one. Gripping the gray doorknob, he turned it and casually opened the door.

Darkness and humid air hit his skin. “This doesn’t seem right,” Ashner stepped in, and the door closed behind him.

“Fuck.”

Fiddling with his pockets, he brought out his phone and tapped on the light. Something illuminated brightly in front of him. Glistening with the light was a blue ball. It had no eyes or a face. “Okay?”

It lunged forward, attacking Ashner’s leg, tumbling him down on his ass.

“OW, FUCK, FUCK! … Wait, that doesn’t hurt…”

Flailing against his leg, the small ball wouldn't let go. Like a horny chihuahua trying to establish dominance… It was a joke.

Ashner opened the door behind him, allowing the light to clearly identify the thing on his leg.

It was a slime.

Just like the monsters you fight against in a video game.

A ball of slime with an odd marble floating in its body. The monster was attacking. It just wasn’t very strong.

Ashner's jeans were melting slowly.

Reaching for his switchblade. Ashner jabbed it into the monster’s body.

Nothing.

“Of course, it’s just like the video games.” He pulled the blade out and stabbed again, this time aiming at the ball in its body. Once it struck, the monster’s body disappeared in a black mist.

Dropping a few oddities.

XP:0 > XP:2

The screen popped up. It was there but transparent enough to gaze at his environment clearly. His pants had torn a bit. The monster had eaten the fabric.

But that wasn’t what held Ashner’s interest.

A coin and a corked glass vial with a red liquid were at his feet.

He grabbed them, decoding something. “Is this gold?”

Ashner stood and brought his finger to his chin. “This room isn’t part of our world. It’s a door in-between. He walked back into the White Room. Inspecting the bed brought a shiver down his spine. The bed’s covers were perfect, but he had only closed the door for a few seconds.

“Magic?” Ashner stepped towards the bed and grabbed the key. “If this is a door to another room, then is this the key? I don't want to fight a mob of those slimes with just a dagger. But if this is real. Then the value of gold in that world must be underwhelming. While in mine… The last war was fought partly over gold and oil, most of which was destroyed in the chaos…”

Ashner studied the drink. His menu popped up, and it described the item.

Weak Healing Potion.

I miss my Jack… Well, bottoms up.

He popped the cork and chugged the drink. In seconds, his hangover and the bruise on his cheek faded.

Did that heal me?

Ashner patted his face, but only the pain was gone. The deformities were still there. Bummed out, he gripped the other door and opened it to a familiar sight.

The house hidden in the woods.

He stepped out and closed the door. The handle shifted back to its original form.

He grabbed the key and tapped it against the handle. Slowly but surely, it shifted back to its golden color. The broken door shifted to the rich wood and designs. Ashner stepped away, and the designs faded.

“Is it just this door?”

He tested it with another door. It shifted to pristine wood. He didn’t have to return to the middle of the woods to go to that world. He had access as long as he used the key in his hand.

Ashner smiled. Something finally went his way for the first time in a long time.

The soldier walked home, walking past a freeway, keeping to the path right before the woods. Ignoring the radiation warning signs. He reached into his pocket, inspecting the gold key. He wanted to wrap a string around it and keep it as a necklace.

This is the most dangerous tool in our world. I found another world with gold, but I could also breathe. It has an atmosphere, so that means water… vegetation, and with that, more forms of metal. The gravity was exactly the same as our worlds, so that means it's possible for us to live there… Maybe other types of humans live there? Or human-like creatures. This is a gamble. If their technology surpasses my own, they might use the key to enter our world and do, who knows what. But if my world has superior technology, I can stand to obtain wealth… Then again, I killed a slime. It could be a world filled with just monsters. Only an idiot enters this type of world without preparing themselves.

Ashner stopped for a second.

If a weak healing potion cured my hangover and bruises… What would a stronger potion be capable of?

Ashner tapped his mask, which was secured across his face.

Can it change my face back to what it was?

“First things first.” He reached into his pocket, glancing at the coin.

These designs are going to draw suspicion. I can’t let anyone see them. And I’m not entirely sure if this is truly gold.

He glanced towards a store. “One way to find out.”

As soon as Ashner walked into the store, a handful of lasers scanned his body and face. Then, on the back of his hands glowed two words. C-R.

For a second, Ashner recalled why he only shopped at night. This was the mark of a child rapist. A stigma that glowed inside any populated modern-age location. It was inked onto him after the joke that was his trial.

Ashner got a few rage filled glares as he walked into the store. The filters above his head did an excellent job of filtering out radioactive air. But the glares and glances of distaste were constant once they got a glimpse of the C-R on his hands. Ashner ignored the customers. Luckily, they only stared.

Ashner found a mineral detector. It was a small watch. He fiddled with it and pointed it at the coin. The watch scanned it and replied.

100% gold.

Ashner smirked and wasted most of his money to buy the watch. The red C-Rs on his hands lasted even after he left the store. They kept glowing for a few hours. He had resorted to wearing gloves outside, but covering his hands in public buildings was illegal.

A floating car passed by him. Someone wealthy was passing by the slums, more than likely a parent showing their child how their lives might’ve been.

Not having a car made it more tedious to walk home, but Ashner didn't mind it. If he weren't so dehydrated, he would gladly run home.

Maybe I'll get a floating car or a floating bike.

Deep in the worst part of town, where homeless drug addicts stood around every corner asking for money, lay a shitty apartment complex. Ashner hid his knife under his sleeve. It wasn't uncommon to get targeted around here.

A man lay dead on the road. His lips had mouth ulcers, half his hair was gone, and he had soiled himself, but instead of brown, it was red.

Radiation poisoning… He either gambled his radiation pills away or someone stole them…

Nobody tried to mug Ashner. Instead, they were eyeing the body of the dead man. Ashner shook his head and kept moving. He got home to find his apartment door was caved in.

Figures, I don’t have anything they can steal anyway.

“Ashner.” Her voice shook the former soldier. “You've had me waiting for over an hour.”

He turned his head. A woman stepped out of her floating Lamborghini Diablo. It was modified with a state-of-the-art anti-gravity system. And a handful of miniature missiles and anti-hacking precautions.

A luxury only afforded to the wealthiest.

“I’m here to collect your criminal restitution.” Her high heels clicked against the faded-out driveway. Despite his distaste towards her, she was a beauty that easily rivaled models.

She was the owner and CEO of Raven Corp. They had created anti-gravity vehicles and even produced and lifted dozens of cities that floated in the sky alongside the clouds. It was complete with its own temperature regulators, but it was so sought after simply because it hovered over the radiation left behind from the war.

Ashner gestured to his door. “Iris, someone broke into my house.”

“I saw that, and I don’t care. You need to pay up.” Iris had two robot guards. They were humanoid and armed. “Or do I need to remind you that you're the man who raped and indirectly got my little sister killed?”

Ashner brought his head down.

“Today she would be twenty-three… But you took her away at the tender age of fifteen.” She tapped her heels on the concrete. Her eyes were sharp, and she was going through her motions. Venting her rage.

Ashner was her punching bag.

“You don't have to come here personally. I can transfer you the money online.” Ashner despised that Iris's appearance was similar to that of her dead sisters. Every time she came around, he was forced to relive the memory of that night.

“No.” She closed the distance and poked Ashner's chest. “I will come here once a month, every month… I will look at you in the eyes and take what you owe my family… If I had it my way, I would take your cock and balls too… And if you happen to kill yourself, then I'll make it a personal holiday for myself.”

If only she knew the truth, she’s also a victim in this… She’s a bitch, but in her own way, she's doing this to honor her sister.

“I don’t have anything.” Ashner reached into his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. Iris snatched it up before he uttered a word.

“Just this? Fine, I'll accept it on one condition.” She bit her fingernail. “Take that mask off.”

Ashner hesitated, but he obeyed. Removing his mask, Iris had a different reaction than most people. Instead of disgust or fear, she smiled.

“You’re repulsive.” She proclaimed proudly.

Ashner’s hand shook.

“That’ll do.” She skipped back towards her car and sat in the rear seat. Her robots took the steering wheel and the passenger side. Their guns were pointing out the windows. Opening her window, she gave Ashner some last-minute words. “Oh, Ensley, the hero who stopped you, he’s now a part of my floating cities personal guard, I promoted him to General… Not that you’ll ever step on one of the floating cities… Worms don’t get to fly in the sky.”

With a smile, she left. Leaving Ashner alone and broke.

Ashner stood there as the luxury sports car flew into the sky.

Ensley… That asshole! After what he did to Melissa… He’s living his best FUCKING LIFE! WHILE I’M STUCK HERE PAYING FOR HIS SINS!

Ashner shook his head and walked into his house. Sure enough, some oddities were stolen.

Someone had torn a hole in his mattress and couch, more than likely searching for stashed items. Ashner shrugged it off.

His rage bubbled until her face and blue eyes returned to him. “Melissa Raven… I wonder what you would think of me? I’m the dumb-ass that couldn’t save you. You have every right to curse me from wherever you are… In fact, if you asked me to kill myself, I'd do it with no hesitation.”

{[When life is nothing but unfortunately unlucky series of events, nothing phases you anymore.]}

Ashner dug into his pocket and took out the gold coin. He glanced at his door. Somehow, they had torn through the reinforced metal. If the wind shifted and the radiation leaked into his house, he had a chance of getting sick.

Ashner dug into his cargo pocket and pulled out his radiation pills. He still had a few left. The government gave everyone a bottle a month. But they prioritized the lower working class that mined ore and the farmers who grew food in sealed environments. On the other hand, meat was rare and only produced in a few of the floating cities.

All sought-after jobs. Not that Ashner would get a job with them. Nobody wanted to hire him, at least not for legal work.

His menu popped up. For a second, Ashner had forgotten about it. He studied it and leered at the 2XP he had.

What can I do with that?

Gotcha Roll? One Free Spin.

“Sure, whatever. Spin.”

You’re rude.

The menu spun like a roulette with thousands upon thousands of options, all too fast to read. As quickly as it started, it stopped.

(Epic) Radiation Resistance.

This, this is phenomenal. How does it work?

Ashner's fingers flicked the menu, and a detailed explanation expanded.

Level 1 – Bought – You gain a fifty percent radiation resistance against all types of radiation damage.

Level 2 – 10 XP – You gain full resistance against any radiation, and you can give the same resistance to one ally. Your body naturally rejects radiation, making even damaged cells regenerate.

Level 3 – 100 XP – You gain full resistance against any radiation, and you can give the same resistance to your allies at the cost of 30XP. At this level, you can cure radiation damage in animals and plants.

Level 4 – 1,000 XP – You gain full resistance against any radiation, and you give the same resistance to as many allies as you desire. At this level, you can cure radiation damage on anyone you choose.

Level 5 – 10,000 XP – You can absorb and cleanse large areas of radiation.

“This is unreal… If I get the highest level, I can cleanse the Earth… Even so… 10,000 XP… I only got two XP for killing a slime. I’d have to kill five thousand to get to level five. How many years would that take? And as much as I’d like to cleanse the Earth of radiation. It’ll only make me a target.”

Ashner sat on his torn couch. Maybe the menu was more valuable than the gold in his hand.

“At level three, I can give full radiation resistance to anyone I want… Menu.”

His blue menu appeared once more.

“Spin again.”

The menu jumped and disobeyed.

Sorry, not Sorry. Only one Gotcha Attempt Per Week.

The menu showed a few low-resolution balloons deflate and some confetti near them.

Once a week? That’s fine… I have something to take care of first.

Ashner grabbed a hammer and banged at the coin until it was unrecognizable. Satisfied, he went to his next destination.

A pawn shop.

The owner gave him a suspicious glare after he tested the gold. It was pure, bringing up its value, but this owner was used to negotiating with low lives. Ashner's C-R on his hands made the owner cautious and disgusted by him.

“Where did you get this?” He held the coin between his fingers.

“I found it off the outskirts of Denver.”

A place contaminated with radiation. It's rare for someone to venture into radiated cities and come out alive. Come on, believe my lie.

“Alright.” He interrupted. The answer was realistic enough for someone with the C-R on their hands to risk. The owner presumed that Ashner went there to kill himself. But instead, stumbled onto literal gold.

“I can give you a thousand for this.”

Ashner nodded.

*******

Ashner had managed to track down a Conex box that he stored years ago. It was moved around dozens of States, but it wasn't opened. Millions died in the war, which left a lot of metal boxes filled with dead soldier's belongings. The Conex's were often cruised around and sold cheaply at pawn shops.

It took a week, but Ashner tracked down his box, and it was delivered to his apartment in the middle of the night.

Finally, having the money to pay for it, he smirked.

He opened the door to his storage and clicked the light on. A life he was kicked out of lay in front of him.

His old military armor and uniform.

An M-4 carbine with an advanced scope.

Dozens of magazines and boxes full of ammo.

And a few odds and ends, it pays to have tanker friends. A tank has plenty of places to smuggle things.

As he was putting together his gear, the marks on his hands slowed him down. He exhaled slowly. No matter how much he tried to scrub the marks away, they were still there.

Tattooed on him forever.

He was sick of it all.

“My life is a mess…” Ashner confessed to himself. “I’m a felon with no job, no friends, no girlfriend…”

He put his gear on, reminiscing on the days he spent in the military and how much he both hated and loved them. How the world was at war with itself, and the friends he lost along the way. At the end of the war, nobody won. The Earth was left in ruins. But somehow, his life was worse.

“I couldn't save you, Melissa… As much as I try, I can't ever change that… I'm tired of drowning… I won’t change anything if I stand back and let this world beat me until I’m numb.”

“I’ll XP up. I’ll become everything I want and achieve all my goals.” He locked and loaded his rifle and put his helmet on above his mask. “I’m done wasting away. I've let myself get tore down enough by a ghost… And I’m certainly fucking done letting those who hurt me live a better life than me… From now on, I’m done just surviving… I’m going to actually live…”