[ERROR: World System Anomaly Detected]

[Fatal Error: Mismatched Dimensional Input]

[SYSTEM Stabilizing...]

[VIRTUE subroutine initiated. Condition 1 / 2 met.]

You know, it's not every day you meet your maybe-possible future self on the second day of a zombie apocalypse, after some jacked-up ghost monster decides it'd be fun to use you as a Frisbee across dimensions.

But here I was, yanked out of a weird alternate dimension faster than a rabbit from a magician's hat, and back to what I could only hope was my home reality. That’s what not-future-we made it sound like at least.

The experience itself had been surreal. If you had asked me half a year ago where I saw myself in August, I would have probably said nervously attending the first week of high school with my best friend. Or maybe helping Mom at our quaint little budding restaurant in Pewterstone City, where the chicken roast was the stuff of legends and every weekend saw a block-long line outside.

But nope. The universe had other plans.

Each reality I was thrown into was worse than the last. In the first one, I’d been dropped right outside my childhood home in the dead of winter. Mom was dead, the restaurant taken over by some new-age vegan buddhist place that had completely done away with any hint of the flavors I grew up with.

In another, my cousin had turned into one of those blue freaks, her eyes devoid of warmth, a killer who took pleasure in chaos and insanity. In yet another, the city was a burning inferno, and every face I saw was twisted in agony as their eyes burned out of their skulls.

Every reality was more or less the same at the end: I’d get comfortable. Think I was out of the nightmare. Then, blue-eyed fucking zombies would come out of nowhere and wreck everything. Sometimes it took days. Sometimes it took minutes. There was always something fundamentally wrong with each one, and every time I tried to change things, to make a difference, I'd find myself ripped from that reality and into another. I was a human pinball in the universe's most sadistic arcade game.

I'd seen nightmares come to life, and witnessed several dozen different versions of my world getting torn apart. It was like watching the worst kind of reality TV on a loop with no remote to change the channel. And the kicker? In every one of those realities, I was just a helpless, chubby kid in a red hoodie who couldn't do a damn thing to change the outcome.

[SYSTEM Stabilizing... Reconnected]

[Welcome back, Albert Chang]

Landing with a bloody thud, I found myself in what appeared to be an abandoned command center with the words ‘REFUGE ZETA COMMAND ROOM’ scribbled on a wall.

Abandoned, save for the gang of supervillains lounging around.

How did I know they were supervillains? The energy weapons, funky hairdos, and heavy equipment were a dead giveaway, but also, years of geeking out over Magical Knights and their arch-nemeses kinda gave me an edge in identifying these guys.

I groaned, sprawling on my feet as I wiped the blood from my temple. The shotgun I’d picked up from the Shelter 4 armory was in arm’s reach, but I froze as a woman with a pixie cut snickered and kicked it away.

A tall man with a neon green Mohawk and glowing yellow eyes crouched over me, flanked by two others who looked just as dangerous. One was a woman with blonde hair who wore an exoskeleton with multiple appendages, each ending in some sort of high-tech weapon, while the other was a gaunt man with a black mullet. He was draped in a cloak that seemed to shift and shimmer, almost like it was alive. And all three were looking straight at me.

Great.

"Well, look what we have here," Mohawk said, his voice dripping with a funny Northeast accent that held a kind of menace that sent chills down my spine. "Fellas, did yous invite our young friend here? I certainly di’int."

Shimmer-cloak smirked, his face partially obscured by the living fabric. "Seems like he just popped in from nowhere. Say, doesn’t he look like he’s ‘bout the same age as the boss’s brother?”

Before I had known about this whole magic, zombies, and dimension-hopping mess, I was your average geek. Comics, movies, gaming—you name it. All the media derived from real life Paragons, Villains, and Magical Knights. And the silver lining? I knew supervillains.

I knew their clichés, their monologues, and most importantly, their weaknesses. I was a walking encyclopedia in that regard.

Mohawk was probably ‘Voltage’, Shimmer-cloak might be ‘Chameleon’, and Miss High-tech Appendages? Probably ‘Arsenal’. You get enough exposure to villain personas, and naming them becomes a fun game. They were members of the Nibiru Syndicate, led by none other than…

I gulped.

The room seemed to darken even further when the door slid open with an eerie creak. And in walked a man in a crimson mask. He wore a fitted black combat suit that seemed to drink in the light. This suit had strategically placed armor segments, a deep blood-red to match his mask. The mask itself was the real kicker. Its surface gleamed with a polished shine, and embedded into it was a multitude of stars, each twinkling in its own rhythm, giving the mask an ethereal depth.

His piercing blue eyes, however, were what stood out the most. They were deep-set and calculating, watching the room with an intensity that was nearly palpable.

Red Masque.

He was a legend, infamous even in the hero circles. His voice, when he spoke, was cold, calculated, and professional. But, it dripped with danger, like an icy wind cutting through a winter night.

"Fascinating… Now, what do we have here?" he asked, nodding in my direction. His tone was flat, but there was a hint of curiosity there. I gulped audibly.

"He just... kinda appeared, Boss," Voltage answered, shifting slightly under the weight of Red Masque's gaze. "One moment, the room was empty save fer us, the next, he's there."

Red Masque approached me slowly. Each step echoed in the tense silence, building the pressure. I could hear the faint hum of Arsenal's tech, the subtle rustling of Chameleon's cloak, and the beating of my own heart, loud and erratic in the heavy stillness.

Another guy who followed them in, a lanky guy with a bunch of tech gadgets strapped to him – probably their tech specialist – adjusted his goggles. "Now, how’d you go and do that, kid?"

Albert, stay calm. Play it smart. Make a joke, maybe? God, this was fucking terrifying.

"Hiya," I began with forced cheer, "Uh. Is this the VIP lounge for Refuge Zeta? 'Cause, uh, I think I got the wrong room. I was looking for the snack bar."

That’ll do it. Play up the fat kid angle.

Chameleon, or at least that’s who I assumed he was, chuckled under his breath, a sound that seemed a cross between amusement and disbelief. "Tubby's got guts, I'll give him that."

Voltage rolled his glowing eyes, "Or the kid’s just a moron."

Red Masque stepped closer, making the floor tiles echo a soft thud with each stride. His mask was intricately designed, with swirls of silver that contrasted against the deep crimson. It reminded me of a distorted yin and yang, perfectly balanced in its chaos.

"Well," I began, channeling every bravado-infused protagonist I'd ever read about, "you could say I took a wrong turn at Albuquerque? I really don’t know." I gave them a wry smile, hoping I didn't look as terrified as I felt.

Red Masque tilted his head slightly, seeming to assess my very worth as a human being.

"You are not of consequence to me. Yet, I cannot ignore an anomaly when it suddenly appears in our current base of operations. Now, how did you get here?"

I swallowed hard. "Honestly? It was more of a 'whoosh' and 'flash' kinda thing. One second I was somewhere else underground here in Refuge Zeta. I ran into one of those freaky monsters with a group of survivors. Then, the next thing I know I'm in the middle of the latest supervillain team meeting in the middle of a shelter meant to keep them out. If I'd known, I would've dressed for the occasion."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

A smile ghosted over Red Masque’s face, though his eyes remained cold. "You are a witty one. I can certainly appreciate that in these trying times."

I realized I had to play this smart. I knew Sienna. If Sienna was looking for me, and she managed to get back here, she was in grave danger with these supervillains roaming the shelter, not to mention the monsters.

Red Masque was looking for something, or someone. My brain started turning, the gears of deduction clicking into place. This wasn't just some random appearance of the Nibiru Syndicate. There was intent here. They were on a mission. And given their reputation, it wasn’t a goodwill mission.

The problem was, this wasn't one of my comic books where the villain spilled their plan. I had to find out what he wanted and why they were here.

"Look, can I be of any help to you guys? If you're looking for something or someone, I might know a thing or two. I’ve been stuck here for the last day or two in a bottom-of-the-barrel motel suite, to say the least."

Voltage raised a neon eyebrow, his expression clearly one of disbelief. "What could a fatso like you possibly know that we don't at this point?"

There it was, the opening I needed. They were searching for someone. I decided to play my cards close to my chest. "Depends on what you're looking for. Or should I say, who you're looking for."

Red Masque's gaze turned even more intense, his icy gaze seemingly quickly peeling away my bravado layer by layer. "What do you know?"

"Not much," I hedged. “I ran to the core control room in the basement with a bunch of surviving soldiers and other civilian survivors. We had to do something, you know? One of those monsters caught me in some kind of… weird teleport ability or something. Then I wound up here. Point is, I have friends here, and I managed to make my way around for a bit.”

For the first time, there was a crack in Red Masque's icy demeanor. His fingers tightened around the hilt of the blade strapped to his side. But before he could answer, Arsenal's multi-appendaged arm buzzed, signaling an incoming transmission.

"Sir," Arsenal reported, "The surface is swarmed. The Moonlit Facade's trying to contain the situation, but it's a bloody mess up there and the twins are overwhelmed. Our exit route might be compromised."

"Then we adapt. If we don't find him soon, this will all be for naught." Red Masque replied with a sudden air of tension.

No, not tension, desperation.

They really were here for someone close to them. And for some reason, my gut was telling me that whoever they were looking for had some connection to Sienna. I didn’t know why, but it was just a particularly strong feeling.

Before the atmosphere could become even more charged, I chimed in, trying to sound helpful and not like a terrified kid who'd bitten off more than he could chew.

"Hey, before this goes any further south, the surface-level communication's shot, right? If you've got a tech guy, I memorized the floor plans the soldiers had and I know where the communication array is. We could probably get that up and running, and then maybe you could put me in as a dummy to get the Knights here, right? Fifteen year old kid. KC High First Year on scholarship? I mean, this definitely qualifies for a Calamity Truce five times over? It’d be good optics, too."

Lanky tech guy – who I had mentally named Techtron – pushed his goggles up, looking intrigued. "That is quite a possibility. If the communication's array is still intact, I could probably boot it up."

Red Masque turned to face me, raising an eyebrow. "Got any proof of that last part, kid? A Kaleidoscope High freshman would certainly be an interesting piece on the board."

"Hey, I'm as surprised as you are," I responded, fishing out my freshly minted school ID from my pocket. I tossed it towards him and he snatched it out of the air with a speed that was almost inhuman.

After a quick glance, he threw it back to me, and I fumbled with it in surprise, nearly dropping it with a jolt. "It would appear to be genuine."

There was a moment of tense silence before Red Masque finally nodded. "Techtron, go with the kid. Repair the array. The rest of us will continue the search for Enrico."

Techtron gave a nod, pushing his goggles back up onto his forehead. "Alright, boss."

As I led Techtron towards the communication array, I couldn't help but breathe a small sigh of relief.

I had bought myself some time, and hopefully, provided a temporary distraction. But my mind kept running over the puzzle pieces.

Who were they looking for? Who was important enough to Red Masque to warrant all this?

And as the sound of their voices faded, another puzzle piece slotted into place. I could still hear Chameleon's words echoing in my head.

The conclusion was obvious. At least with the info I had. They were looking for Red Masque’s younger brother.

I thought about Sienna. The little girl she had left me with, Abby, was probably terrified out of her wits.

I felt a pang of worry for the kid. It was a scary world we were in, scarier still for a little one like her. She’d clung onto me like a blanket in the day we’d spent in Shelter 2. I’d promised her I’d be back in just a few minutes.

I found myself thinking about one of the soldiers I had left behind when I had been teleported out. George Mirewood. A big burly guy with a friendly smile, despite the dire situation.

He was a rock in these dark times, someone you could count on to face the horde with a defiant smirk and a 'We got this.' There were four of them with me when that freaky ghost attacked. I hadn’t caught their names, but George had made me feel safe even when I was putting a front for that little girl Abby.

I doubted George had made it. That ghost thing was fucking horrifying and he was just one man, and he didn’t have a literal newbie Magical Knight best friend to bust him out of interdimensional jail like I did. Still, I held on to a thin thread of hope. It was all we really had in these times. Maybe he’d made it.

I glanced sideways at Techtron, who was seemingly absorbed in his own thoughts. He wore a ratty leather jacket over his tech-embedded suit, the numerous wires and devices giving him the aura of a cyberpunk street urchin. I could see why he was part of the Starfall Syndicate. His casual air of intelligence was unmistakable.

I thought about the kids back in Shelter 2 again. Namely Spike, and how he’d stared at us as we left him in a backroom closet. The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. We’d left him there to fend for himself in our ill-fated mission to call for help.

"Guilt’s a bitch, ain't it?" Techtron’s raspy voice cut through my thoughts like a knife. I glanced at him, taken aback. He was still focused on the path ahead, his goggles glinting in the dim light.

"I... I don’t know what you’re talking about," I stuttered out, my palms sweaty.

Techtron snorted, adjusting the wires connected to his wrist device. "Don’t play coy, kid. The look on your face... it's guilt. Plain and simple."

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "Is it that obvious?"

Techtron shrugged. "Maybe to someone who’s been there. You left someone behind, didn't you?"

Involuntarily, my mind raced back to Abby and Spike. Abby with her anxiously braided hair and defiant gaze, Spike with his wide, worried eyes that hid a burning courage. "Yeah... yeah, I did. A couple."

We rounded a corner, the silence stretching out between us. It was Techtron who finally broke it. "Look, kid. There’s a lot of shit happening right now. Unexplainable shit. But there’s one thing I know for sure. Guilt... guilt doesn't help anyone. It just makes you second guess yourself. Doubt yourself."

I frowned at that, feeling a flare of frustration. "So, what? I just forget about them?"

"No," Techtron said, stopping to face me. His expression was serious. "You remember. You remember them, and you remember why you're still standing. Because you're still here. You still have a chance to do something. So, you take that guilt and you turn it into something else. Anger, determination, hell, even hope. You turn it into something that'll keep you going."

I was silent for a long moment, absorbing his words. They rang with a harsh truth, one that felt both painful and necessary. As we walked on, the quiet hum of the underground facility the only sound echoing around us, I felt something shift within me. Techtron was right. Guilt wouldn't help Abby and Spike. But maybe... maybe there was something else I could do.

I nodded, more to myself than to Techtron. "You're right. There's got to be a way to fix this. To make things right. You know, I didn’t know what to expect out of a bunch of supervillains, but you guys aren’t all that bad."

Techtron gave me a sidelong glance, a hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's the spirit, kid. And hey, we’re mercs at Starfall, not monsters, you know?"

As we neared the communication array, a low rumbling echoed through the halls, the ground beneath us vibrating with the force of it. I exchanged a worried look with Techtron. That didn't sound good.

Alarms began blaring and red warning lights filled the room. Techtron stumbled backward, grabbing onto a console for support. "What the hell was that?"

I could only shake my head in response, my heart pounding in my chest. As I ran towards the control panel, I glanced at a nearby security camera feed, only to have my breath hitch in my throat.

Monsters. There were monsters pouring into the shelter, swarming like a dark wave of death and destruction. It was an army, an army unlike anything I had ever seen. An army of nightmares come to life.

Suddenly, a radio on Techtron’s hip crackled to life, the static-filled voice of Voltage making us jump. "Red Masque, we have a situation! The surface... it's swarmed over and teeming with uglies. They’re making a beeline for one of the underground shelters. I repeat, the surface is swarmed."

As the worry for Abby and Spike fought against the fear of Red Masque and the supervillains, I realized that standing around wasn't going to solve anything. My mind was clearer than it had been since this whole apocalypse started. It was time to face the monsters, both literal and figurative.

"Techtron, we need to move. Now!"

His eyes met mine and for a moment, I saw something flicker in them. Amusement. Then understanding? Respect? Maybe a bit of both.

"I’ll be damned. I like that look. Well, lead the way, kid."

And with that, we broke into a run, our steps echoing down the abandoned halls of Refuge Zeta. We had a mission, a goal. A glimmer of hope in the darkness. And for the first time since I had been pulled into this whole mess, I felt a sense of control.

As the sound of monsters roared in the distance, I held onto that sliver of hope. It wasn't much, but it was something.

It was a start.