The alarm finally cut off, leaving Jelani's ears ringing in the sudden silence. He'd been leaning against the hallway wall for fifteen minutes, watching other radiants rush past with purposeful expressions. The chaos felt oddly organized, like everyone knew their role except him.
Darius returned, slightly out of breath. "Sorry about that. Had to coordinate a response team." He checked his tablet. "Listen, we've got some trainers willing to run an orientation raid today. You free?"
"Hell yeah, I’ve got nothing more important than this to do." The words came out before Jelani could check his eagerness.
"Good energy." Darius led him down another hallway. "Just try to keep that same energy when you actually get into doing this full time."
They walked into an orientation room that looked like a repurposed conference space. A basic flatscreen hung on the front wall, connected to a laptop that had seen better days. Nine others had already arrived, seven of them spread throughout seats in the center.
Pandora sat near the far side wall on the front row, pink braids swaying as she bobbed her head slightly to whatever was playing through one earbud, the other left out – ready to engage but maintaining her own space.
Three empty seats separated her from a guy with short freeform locs styled into a spiky mullet, who was scrolling through his phone with practiced disinterest. Jelani chose the middle seat of the gap, noting how the energy in the room shifted slightly at his choice.
"Alright, future statistics." A scarred man in a faded RAA polo stood up front. "I'm Tyson, and despite my best efforts, I'm still alive enough to train you all." He gestured to a gentle-faced woman beside him. "This is Mary, your other trainer.”
“Hey y’all,” she added before the words were devoured by an involuntary yawn from her mouth.
“Let's do quick introductions before I explain all the ways you might die today. Name, age, class – keep it simple. Starting with you braids." Tyson said while pointing a pen at Pandora.
Pandora pulled out her earbud, straightening with barely contained energy. "Pandora, 21, Artillerist!" Her voice carried a girly tone that clashed against the edge of rasp that was in her throat.
"Jelani, 22, Warrior." He spoke with quiet confidence, nothing to prove but nothing to hide either.
The guy with the locs glanced up from his phone. "Malik, 20, Warrior." His grin suggested he was already planning something unwise.
"Isaac, 27, Sentinel." He had a short fro and wore a graphic tee with sonic the hedgehog on it as his hands rubbed nervously on his knees.
"Call me Greta, 32, Sorcerer." Her ankara print pants and white tank top seemed too vibrant for the drab room.
"Davi, 20, Artillerist." The young man's lose curly hair covering his faintly glowing orange eyes.
"Charles, 43, Sorcerer." A balding man with a soft smile in a white button up.
"Saveon, 25, Sentinel." His linebacker's build made the standard chair look small.
Tyson surveyed them all with an expression caught between pity and resignation. "Right. Now that we're all friends..." He turned to the laptop. "Let's talk about why most of you won't survive your first month..."
"Tyson." Mary's voice carried gentle reproof. "You don't have to traumatize them in the first five minutes."
"Just giving them what the propaganda stations won't." Tyson clicked through his slides with aggressive efficiency. "They want everyone thinking they'll be the next great hero. Then act surprised when the body count keeps rising."
"But you don't have to be so—"
"Fine." His smile softened slightly. "I'll be nicer. For you."
The screen filled with a map of Atlanta, red dots indicating vortex activity. "Situation's getting worse. Past month saw a thirty percent increase in breaches. For whatever cosmic reason, you all got chosen to deal with this mess." He gestured at the group.
"So we’d appreciate it if you'd tell any of your nappy-headed friends who awaken to stop sitting around on their asses."
A ripple of light laughter. Greta straightened in her chair. "Why they gotta be nappy-headed, king?"
"Because they are." Tyson didn't miss a beat, clicking to the next slide. "Moving on."
The power point shifted, showing different sized vortexes.
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"Let's talk size classification and some basic need to know items."
"Small class,” The screen showed a blue vortex about the height of a standard door but double the width, its edges crackling with unstable energy. Tyson's voice carried the weight of experience. "Three to five radiants to handle these properly."
He tapped to the next slide. "Medium class," an image of a vortex inside of a movie theater covering the length and width of the screen. "Five to nine bodies needed here."
"Large class," A swirling vortex the size of a Ferris wheel materialized, its center an infinite darkness. "Ten radiants minimum,"
"And then there's Massive class." The final slide in this section showed a purple vortex covering the face of a large dam. Tyson's voice dropped lower. "Fifty radiants minimum, and even then you're rolling dice with these behemoths."
"What if we run smaller teams on the regular sized ones?" Malik leaned forward, that reckless grin playing at his lips.
"Nothing stopping you." Tyson's response was flat. "Same way there’s nothing stopping you from gargling battery acid. Technically possible, technically stupid."
Tyson's PowerPoint transitioned with that signature old school windows slide effect, the TV's resolution barely handling the images. "Now for the real shit." His tone so far faded into something harsher.
"Vortex strength is our next important metric. It isn't about how hard it is or who can enter. It's about what happens when we don't,"
"How do we spot the difference?" Jelani asked impatiently, leaning forward.
"No need to rush, I’m gonna explain," Tyson's scarred face tightened. "Let me show you why it matters first."
Mary stepped forward, her usual gentleness replaced by quiet intensity. “In the center of each vortex you’ll notice faint orbs of light. These will be how you identify each vortex and its rank”
"One-orb equals awakened rank. What you all currently are," The screen showed a small neighborhood torn apart. Homes were missing walls, cars were overturned and fresh craters littered the street. “And this is what we can expect when even these guys are left alone too long.”
Tyson clicked to the next slide.
"Two orbs, Enlightened rank." A shopping center collapsed inward, as if something massive had eaten its way out from below.
"Three orbs, Master rank," he clicked to footage of Midtown, several blocks of buildings were destroyed and a section of 85 had collapsed. "We lost 23 good radiants clearing the aftermath of that one,”
“Four orbs - Ascendant level” aerial news footage played of Stone Mountain and several miles of its surrounding area reduced to rubble.
The video made the room grow tense. Her voice dropped lower. "And five orbs? Sage rank?" A pause. "That's how we lost Athens. The entire city, gone in a few days."
Jelani's crossed his arms not wanting to be seen fidgeting. Athens. Less than two hours away. Now it was just... gone. It was still insane to think about.
The distance between where he was and where he needed to be felt like a canyon opening beneath his feet. One orb to five orbs. Awakened to Sage. How many clears, how many near-death experiences stood between him and real power? Between him and being able to protect what mattered?
"Higher ranked radiants can handle lower vortexes," Mary added softly. "But they're usually busy preventing more Athens."
"And that's assuming we have enough left." Tyson's tone dark with seriousness.
"No wonder everybody saying fuck this shit and doing their own thing." Malik's earlier playfulness had hardened into something sharper. "What's the bread looking like? Since y'all got us out here fighting and shit."
Mary stepped forward before Tyson could respond. "I know it's not pretty, but we're strong people. We have to focus on adapting, on being helpful instead of just—"
"Can't feed the kids on duty though." Saveon's deep voice carried quiet frustration. "Everything still cost dollars, ma'am. Inflation ain't stop for the apocalypse."
Tyson sighed, rubbing his scarred face. "And that right there is why we're probably doomed." He clicked to the next slide, its cheap transition effect almost comical against the gravity of its content. "Let me at least show you what you're getting into, then we'll talk numbers."
The screen filled with color-coded tears in reality. "Red vortexes are hunt-type. Something big and nasty needs killing." He pulled up footage of various monstrosities. "Sometimes you got to clear the small fry first, sometimes you can go straight for the boss. Depends how good your recon is."
"Blue means extraction." The image shifted to alien gardens where fruit pulsed with internal light. "Valuable shit we can actually use – rare minerals, edible materials. Problem is, whatever's guarding it usually gets pissy if you damage the goods."
"Yellow's challenge-type." His expression darkened. "Straight fight with the Ishtari. Winner takes all."
"And purple?" Charles asked from the back.
"Link vortexes." Tyson's voice went flat. "Direct connection to their world. They try to push through, we push back,"
"Now, money." He pulled up a chart that made several people curse under their breath.
“Hold on now, before y’all start huffing and puffing, everything is on a sliding scale based on the size of the vortex within its rank,”
"1st rank will net you between 250 to 1k per clear. Enlightened jumps to 750 to 3k. Master level hits 2,250 to 9k. Ascendant? 6,750 to 27k." He paused. "Make it to Sage, you're looking at 20k minimum, up to 81k for the nasty ones."
"Plus cores and artifacts," Mary added quickly. "The black market's always buying, though we prefer you sell to R&D."
"That's it?" Malik's laugh held no humor. "Man, I thought the government was putting hella money into that radiant war fund,"
"They have been but the well is running dry across the board," Tyson cut in, "Here, you get the choice of picking what vortex you challenge. Military pays better but owns your soul and where you go. Private sector pays best for security roles but treats you like disposable weapons. Welcome to the end of the world, ladies and gentlemen,"
Silence fell heavy over the room, broken only by the hum of the cheap TV. Jelani ran numbers in his head. Base pay was tight at the lower end, but at three or four clears a week he could make it work.
“No reason to stay at my jobs since my time will be occupied for now,” Jelani thought.
He'd be stretched thin at first, but did he really have a choice?
Mary cleared her throat, breaking through the collective gloom. "There is some good news, at least for today." She exchanged a look with Tyson that carried unspoken weight. "We've been working with a... unique training location. It's an excellent opportunity to build your stats early on."
"And the death risk is only moderate if you’re an idiot," Tyson added.
"It's actually quite safe," Mary corrected. "A perfect starting point for new radiants."
"Yayyy," Pandora's voice dripped with deadpan sarcasm.
“See I like her,” Tyson added with a faux cheeriness. “Be more like her,”
He surveyed the group, gaze lingering on Jelani and a few others. "Not gonna overwhelm you with more details right now. Y'all won’t remember everything we went over in one sitting but download the RAA app and you’ll find what you need to know. Field experience teaches better than a PowerPoint."
He gestured at their street clothes. "Some of you need basic gear though. Hit up the front desk, tell Ashley your sizes. She'll get you sorted with temporary equipment."
"What kind of equipment?" Isaac asked, adjusting his glasses.
"The kind that might keep your insides inside." Tyson headed for the door. "Take thirty minutes, get situated. Meet in the parking lot after – white van with the claw marks. Can't miss it."
"And try to stay positive!" Mary called after their retreating forms. "Everyone has to start somewhere!"
"Yeah," Tyson muttered, just loud enough to hear. "Usually with screaming."