Chapter One Hundred Seventy: Alex, Part One
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When the knock came at the door, Alex's instincts told him to ignore it. He stared at the scarred wooden threshold of his cramped, crumbling apartment, shadows twisting across peeling walls and a ceiling that drooped with exhaustion.
The sharp, staccato knock shattered the silence again, each beat louder, more insistent. Alex's pulse quickened, a drumline of nerves. This neighborhood bred caution like a second skin; doors only opened when certainty lay on the other side. The peephole, long covered by the last tenants, left behind a faint outline and a nagging sense of exposure. He should ask Albert to fix it—or at least cover the parts. Jason could do it; he was always good with his hands. Curiosity, that reckless taunt, pulled him forward.
He cracked the door, eyes narrowing against the dim light spilling in from the hallway. Standing there was not the trouble he expected, but a man in a pristine tan suit, shoes polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the peeling linoleum beneath his feet. On his chest gleamed a badge: Excelsior Technologies, the emblem of their dominion—a stylized bird with wings unfurled, talons gripping two gleaming spheres. The design struck a balance between majesty and menace, corporate authority disguised as grandeur.
In his nineteen years, never had anything like this found its way to him—least of all here, where hope was an uninvited guest. Jason was gone, out on some vague errand that Alex suspected was more escape than necessity.
“Excelsior Tech?” Alex muttered, disbelief sharpening his gaze.
The man’s nod was a mechanical gesture, his face a mask devoid of human warmth. “I’m here on behalf of Excelsior Technologies,” he intoned, words clipped, devoid of inflection. A digital clipboard thrust into Alex’s hands felt weightier than its size suggested. “Sign here. Thumbprint and blood required.”
“Blood?” The word left Alex’s mouth before he could stop it.
The man’s eyes, blank as an unlit screen, offered no response. Instead, he gestured towards a panel on the box he held—a seamless blend of wood and metal, refined yet oddly primal. The compartment glinted in the flickering light. Alex hesitated for a heartbeat, then pressed his thumb to the panel, wincing as a hidden needle pierced his skin and drew a bead of crimson.
A low hum reverberated beneath his fingertips, the box vibrating with a strange sentience. “Calibrating… sufficient sample,” the display read in sterile, cold letters. The man nodded once more, placed the box in Alex’s trembling hands, and disappeared down the hallway without so much as a parting glance.
“Uh… thanks?” The word slipped out, swallowed by the echo of footsteps.
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Alex shut the door, the bolt sliding home with a metallic click. He stood there for a moment, the box cradled in his arms, its weight unsettlingly light. Breath hitching, he set it on the chipped kitchen table, the old wood creaking under the sudden burden. It sat there, silent and expectant, as if aware of its own importance.
With hands that barely steadied, Alex unlatched the lid. It lifted with an ease that felt unnatural, revealing its contents: an embossed envelope and a sleek, metallic device that shimmered like liquid night. He tore the seal of the letter, eyes tracing the words that leapt off the page in stark black ink.
“Congratulations. You have been accepted into Mount Olympus University.”
He blinked, the room contracting and swelling like a living thing. Mount Olympus University. The words pulsed in his mind, stirring echoes of sleepless nights spent hunched over borrowed books, Jason’s half-hearted reassurances when their funds dipped below the line of reason, and the whispered dreams they dared not say aloud. The scholarship exam, a fragile bridge between desperation and hope, had been their gamble. Jason had scoffed, disbelief laced with reluctant encouragement. Yet, here it was—real, tangible, humming with the electric promise of something better.
A sound broke the silence, raw and sudden. Laughter. His own, disbelieving and edged with hysteria. Alex's gaze slid to the helmet, its design otherworldly, teetering on the edge of something almost organic, seamless and whole as though it had been forged in the heart of a star. He picked it up, its hum vibrating along his skin, almost… alive.
Alex’s fingers traced the device as the front door creaked open. Jason stepped inside, shadows pooling beneath his eyes, a weight in his posture that lifted when he saw Alex. Whatever haunted him, Alex knew Jason would share when he was ready.
“Is that—?” Jason’s voice carried a tremor, hesitant but hopeful.
Alex nodded, a grin splitting his face. “I got in.”
For a moment, Jason’s smile was real, a flicker of who he used to be before life had stripped them bare. “That’s incredible, Alex. You deserve this.”
Alex’s grin widened, eyes shining with a rare spark of hope. “This could change everything for us.”
Jason let out a breath, the tension in his frame easing just a little. Alex’s excitement was infectious, the room filling with the possibility of something more than just surviving. Glancing at the letter again, Alex remembered the warning: the access codes would come separately, a layer of Excelsior’s infamous security protocols. But the urge to see what lay beyond the polished helmet was irresistible. He could at least test the connection, feel the edge of the unknown.
He placed the helmet over his head, the smooth metal cool against his skin. It hummed softly, and then a small, transparent screen blinked to life before his eyes.
Calibrating… DNA verification in progress.
The letters were sharp, sterile, a white glow against the darkness.
Alex’s breath caught as the hum deepened, a subtle vibration resonating through his skull. Suddenly, the world dissolved. The kitchen, the creaking walls, Jason’s watchful gaze—all of it vanished in a pixelated cascade, bleeding into shadow. The calibration screen melted away, leaving only a dark, inky expanse.