‘Will you please shut your mouth?’ Apollo snapped at his disapproving parent.

‘Be quiet? I don’t need anyone telling me to be quiet in this house!’ Jordan yelled through his gritted teeth, his body shaking with anger at his son.

It was a cloudy day, and the weather appeared to reflect on the Phoenix household. Sitting in an undulating circular piece of land, the one-storey house exhibits poverty and impoverishment. The once-green lawn pleaded for water, and the handful of lilies that stood on the fence's margins were hanging low.

Jordan Phoenix, an American war veteran, finally sat down on the worn out couch. They had once owned a 2-storey house and had untarnished furniture. They once had joy and life in the house, and it did not feel like death had passed over this house. But that was a long time ago.

‘Listen son…’ Jordan paused in the hope his son would look at him. Nevertheless, he continued, ‘If you don’t do what I just said... trust me, I will kill my wife and die myself. I can’t let that poor thing die starving.’ Jordan broke down, with tears streaming down his cheeks.

Apollo fixed his eyes on the dining table, his heart impaled by his father’s tears. Apollo was a tall, slightly jacked up person. He had dark circles under his eyes and hadn’t combed his hair for a month. He cast a peek at the clock on the wall opposite him, which justified his growling stomach. The ragged suit he wore was a last ditch effort to impress the interviewer. But no, they wouldn’t want a normal person.

‘I know why you wouldn’t do it... I know it really well. But she wouldn’t want-’

‘HER WHOLE LIFE WAS DEVOTED AGAINST THE CAUSE OF IT,’ Apollo exclaimed as he slammed his fist to the table, forgetting about his asleep mother for a moment, ’and now you are telling me the exact thing she wouldn’t want me to do?’

Taken aback by his son’s outrage, Jordan paused. He approached his troubled kid, his hands trembling over his shoulders. Apollo felt vulnerable, his emotions causing turmoil inside him. He wanted to embrace his dad and even cry.

Instead of expressing his emotions to his father, Apollo did nothing. They never had a father-son bonding experience. Apollo endured a difficult childhood as a result of his father's service in the military.

‘You are still young, and it would... um... be prudent?’ Jordan said, with carefully selected words. ‘The world had changed. It’s not worth fighting anymore.’ With that, he withdrew his hand and slumped onto the couch.

Apollo’s silence was deafening. He stared at his father with tired eyes. His father may have fought in several conflicts over his many deployments. But Apollo had taken part in a war. One that still wages on without anybody on the battleground. The fight was against a change, one that questions human existence and paves the way for the next evolution.

'I-I ... have an interview,' Apollo stammered, breaking the stillness. He cast a last look at his father, who put up a brave smile.

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

Apollo paced quickly, cut the street with a wave of his hand, and entered the pristine 15-storey glass building. It was a pure spectacle for Apollo, with a gorgeous lawn and a water fountain designed in such a way that the marble dolphin ejected water through its mouth. He flapped his blazer and walked towards the glass building of Drakon Tech. Numerous people, clad in tuxedos more glamorous than his, were sitting around a huge banyan tree and interacting with their holograms briskly. Apollo finally reached the entrance, and after wiping the sweat off his brows, he made his way in, feeling slightly hopeful. The lounge was a large room, with four deep-red couches arranged in a corner. Air blew past him, making him shiver. He looked around and saw a white robot, playing the role of a receptionist, sitting behind a small, closed section of the lounge. Apollo advanced towards the robot, his resentment increasing. The robot, sensing Apollo, flashed a pixelated smile on its face. Apollo, fighting his urge to smash its head, asked in a restrained voice, ‘Tell me the way to the Director's room.‘

The smile was rearranged to form a sentence: ‘Kindly proceed to the second floor and take a right. Do you have any more queries?’

‘Yeah…’ Apollo growled, and leaning towards the automaton, he said, ‘I hope you burn down to ash,’ and he quickly left the scene.

After a walk of about five minutes, Apollo stood waiting at the director’s room. Excitement arose in him, and his heart was drumming in his chest. He desperately needed this job; otherwise, no. There was no other way.

‘Get in,’ a masculine voice said, and Apollo flinched. He hastily brushed his sleeve against his brow and pushed the door open. He was welcomed by a rush of cold air and immediately found out that the room was heavily air-conditioned. A big chandelier hung from the room's middle ceiling, adding a decorative touch. Apollo quickly cut-off his gaze from the glass vase and looked at the person behind the ebony desk. The dark-haired person’s name was Maxwell. He was the director of Drakon Tech, a leading electrical appliance manufacturer, and this was the only company that accepted Apollo for an interview. Others simply responded with an email stating that they only hire improved individuals.

‘So you must be Apollo...' Max drawled out, prompting Apollo to complete his sentence.

‘Phoenix. Apollo Phoenix,’ Apollo said back decisively.

‘Quite a name, right?' Max stated as he slid a spiral notepad into a drawer behind the desk.

‘Yeah,’ Apollo mumbled, trying to start a conversation. ‘Sir, I have given my portfolio-’

‘Yeah, yeah … I'll look into it,' Max replied, not knowing how to break the news. ‘So the reason I called you is to discuss something- Please sit.’

Apollo sat hesitantly, sensing trouble brewing.

‘The thing is that … you have a Ph.D. in bioengineering-’

‘And trained in Muay Thai,’ Apollo blurted out due to nervousness, and instantly regretted it.

‘Yeah, but my question is, why are you still unemployed even though you have a Ph.D. and are an expert in martial arts?’ Max offered, using his standard approach of getting others to say whatever he desired.

Apollo, who clearly understood where this conversation was leading, replied back in a small voice, ‘I’m not having NexusSynapse.’

‘Exactly ... the technology that enhances the human brain and makes us more productive. Think about it … and still you don’t have it. Why?’

Apollo felt a lump in his throat. Tears welled up in his eyes. ‘It’s a—my wife died fighting against it. Still a sore spot.’

‘Oh… I’m sorry,’ Max said, feeling not sorry at all. ‘Anyway, she is dead. Don’t take that as an excuse-’

'"Excuse?"' Apollo fired back, his rage seething inside him. He whispered in a deadly, calm voice. ‘You think I live in poverty and depression just because I am f******g lazy?’

Max tried to interject, but Apollo persisted.

‘I still live life—no, you keep your fat mouth shut—I still live the natural way. I am not a host to this parasitic technology. My wife died in the hope that humanity would be saved, but she unfortunately lost.’

‘Pay attention Apollo, I didn’t want to-’

‘YOU KEEP QUIET. YOU ARE THE PEOPLE WHO MAKE US DEPEND ON THESE DEVICES BECAUSE ALL OF THIS IS A BLOODY RAT RACE,’ Apollo enraged, blazing like a wildfire. He was fed up with today. He lost control of himself, allowing all of the trauma he had stored within himself to be released. ‘YOU STRIP PEOPLE LIKE OURS OF BASIC RIGHTS AND PLUNGE US INTO POVERTY AND UNEMPLOYMENT.’

‘Then why bother to approach my company if you think all of this is a rat race?’ Max asked in a calm and composed voice.

‘Because I need money. I have parents to take care of,’ Apollo replied, crestfallen. His father's visage flashed into his mind.

‘Then you are stuck with us. Without the NexusSynapse implanted in your brain, you ain't going to get a penny,’ Max said with a smug look on his face. He tugged at his collar and added, ‘Please get out. No time for madmen like you.’

Apollo stared at him for a moment, dejection and despair filling his heart. But anger was at the forefront. He slowly retreated back and paused as he held onto the polished, spherical handle of the door.

‘What are you waiting for, huh?' Max spoke sharply. Apollo approached Max, slammed his fists down on the desk, and roared at him, ‘You know what happens when you trust technology too much?’

‘What?’ Max asked, and Apollo motioned for him to lean forward. Apollo swiftly landed a devastating blow to Max's face, who leaned all the way against the other wall in his recliner, clutching his nose and groaning.

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

‘So how did the interview go?’ questioned Beatrice mischievously, with her chin on her hand.

‘Went down the drain,’ Apollo replied with a smile, temporarily laying the misery off his shoulders.

After a botched interview, Apollo decided to head into his friend’s garage rather than his house. Beatrice, who had curly hair and dark skin, was his colleague and, like him, did not manage to get a job. Luckily, she was given her family’s garage and looked after it.

‘What did the guy say?’ she inquired with a chuckle.

‘That I was ineligible because I didn’t go after NexusSynapse, wagging my tail.’

‘Better be on your own than lose yourself to it. Just imagine losing your freedom, your liberty, to a piece of crap ... you would ultimately lose the human side of yourself,’ Beatrice explained, shaking her head. 'Like they could actually influence you... implant thoughts and people wouldn't even notice because they are so involved in it. Think about our privacy. It would be like videotaping every single minute of our lives and giving them the recording. People don’t talk to each other anymore. Yesterday, I noticed someone’s wallet lying on the road and asked people nearby whether it was theirs. Nope, no reply. As if I didn’t exist.’

'Easier to say when you have your own mechanical shop,' Apollo remarked, sighing.

'Only a few people come here... and when they do, I make sure it's worth it,' she said slyly and tossed him a Coke from the mini-refrigerator at the corner.

‘So, how is it going?' Apollo asked as he pulled the tab off his drink. The gas rushed out of the can, spilling some of its contents onto his hands.

‘Let me see …’ Beatrice replied and fixed her gaze on the ceiling, pretending she was in deep contemplation. ‘Twenty years ago, a piece of technology was introduced that at first cured people of brain diseases. Now look at us.' She took a swig from the can. ‘Your wife, Lyrea, devoted her entire life to fighting the cause of NexusSynapse and wanted to prevent the release of more developed versions. She even organised a rebellion team of seven members, right?’

‘Why are you telling me all this?’ Apollo asked, feeling perplexed.

‘Because you should follow in her footsteps,’ Beatrice said exasperatedly, making it appear obvious. ‘Why are you hiding in this world? Go out and wage a war.’

‘Wage a war? Are you out of your mind?' Apollo asked, chuckling at her folly. ‘The so-called rebellion team, The Purple Resistance, and its members are executed. Wiped away from the face of this planet.’

‘So what?’ Beatrice pleaded, her tone implying that she was doing everything she could to persuade him. ‘You are still a member, right?’

‘I was a member,’ Apollo corrected her while pointing his index finger at her. ‘And don’t sound like it was like a cartoony adventure, fighting evil people and triumphing. We were losing. People went missing. She was the last hope.' Those were the dark days when he had frequent fights with his wife over her obsession with the Resistance. In those times, his days were veiled in despair, but her numbered days were brimming with revolt.

‘Why did you quit?’

‘It's ... complicated,’ Apollo said, as memories flooded back to him.

‘Yeah … fine,’ Beatrice said back, feeling crestfallen. The world was messed up, and she always thought Apollo could do something. She had actually admired him. His relentless spirit and the beast within him. A cold-blooded one. But now the beast has fallen asleep. Afraid to open its eyes and see the chaos.

‘See who has come …’ Beatrice announced as she gazed at the approaching visitor.

It was Teddy Todd. He was a short guy with a thick moustache. With his shoulders hunched and head bent low, he looked dejected. Finally, he sank onto the nearest chair, sobbing, 'I just want to kill myself!'

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

‘What’s new?’ Apollo asked, looking directly at him.

‘You’ve got any food?' he asked earnestly at Beatrice, ignoring Apollo’s question, and she immediately left to bring food.

‘How long?’ Apollo asked Teddy, hoping he would know the context.

‘Two days of being hungry,’ Teddy replied, licking his dry lips. Apollo grabbed his shoulders and gave him a pat. Shortly after, Beatrice arrived with two bowls filled with bacon and both men walked towards the desk. Upon placing the bowls on the table, both of them began attacking the food like a pack of hungry wolves. Beatrice kept her silence, feeling slightly content with her life.

'I just lost my job,' Teddy lamented as he surveyed the bowl for any leftover bacon.

‘Welcome to the league,’ Apollo promptly said.

‘Listen Bee, you’ve got a job here for me?' Teddy asked hopefully, his voice suddenly giving Apollo heartbreak.

‘As much as I would love to give you a job and help you out of this situation, I’m so sorry that there is no job here. People seldom visit here, and that’s for small works,’ Beatrice replied disdainfully, her face full of pain.

Teddy returned to his chair and sat, his thoughts racing with the prospect of landing any job. He suddenly thought of letting them know of his last-ditch effort. He was sure Apollo would be against it right away, but he had no other way.

‘Apollo,’ Beatrice called out, and Apollo looked at her, ‘you should think about what I have said.’

‘It’s hopeless, Beatrice. Hopeless. There is nothing I can do more. Everything is done. We have to live through its effects,’ Apollo cried, feeling slightly angry at Beatrice. Even though her words gave him slight hope and confidence, it was quickly shut away by his past experience. A silence befell on them as three of them were lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Teddy plucked the courage and decided to present his idea.

‘Guys …’ he said, fixing his glance at the ground, not daring to look at any of them, ‘I am gonna get NexusSynapse.’

Apollo chuckled, his lips widening into a mockful laugh and said, ‘After all this, still you wanna get that crap. You still wanna fix it in your damn head.’

‘Exactly. What should I do, huh? I have a family to take care of. Do you know that I had to steal a packet of bread to feed my child and my wife for 3 days,’ Teddy lamented, tears forming his eyes. His voice cracked as he recounted his tales of sorrow.

‘Fine… I am leaving. Bye Beatrice,’ Apollo bid goodbye to her and made his way outside the garage. Cool air pounded on his face as the day was losing the last of its light. Shops and restaurants began switching on their lights and opulent signboards. Automatons started filling the city, doing basic chores like food delivery, traffic regulation, sweeping, etc. Occasionally, some folks, who were either relaxing on a bench or walking at a quick pace, would suddenly freeze. Their eyes would glow a faint blue light, indicating that they were immersed in working with NexusSynapse. Some would be watching a movie or videos in their minds, while others would be chatting, reading, and whatnot. Anywhere you look, you would find a human engaging with NexusSynapse. Eyes emitting a faint blue light and body not moving an inch of muscle, it is traumatising. You could talk to no one. You are on your own, minding your business. All public spaces now feature holographic screens so that spectators may watch the game or the news without appearing to be frozen in place. The street was usually eerily silent, the only noise being the thudding of the feet of strangers.

Apollo proceeded on his way home, arriving at Brixty Street. Taking a left, he began strolling down a flat stretch of land with residences on both sides. As he started reaching his neighbourhood, the extravaganza of technology and the quantity of people with dreamy expressions decreased dramatically. Holograms were now being replaced by physical boards. Smartphones came into the light, and people had at least some emotions on their faces. One of the few remaining locations where there was still a glimmer of resistance alive and well, like a smouldering fire that managed to outlast the biting winds.

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

' - tech behemoth Wishing Stone has announced new subscription pricing for its groundbreaking technology, NexusSynapse. This announcement has been out just after announcing newer surgical robots that would be undertaking the neurosurgery to implant the microchip on the human skull,' the blonde news reporter continued, with Harley Phorcys, the founder and pioneer of NexusSynapse, as the image behind the reporter.

‘My foot,’ Apollo commented under his breath as he started unwrapping his sandwich. He was at the Cobo Eatery and chose this place because of their discount on sandwiches.

The news headlines, which addressed a car crash in Virginia, zoomed in and out to attract attention and indicate its importance. He had a sense of peace and serenity as he ate the sandwich and observed other people and their activities while reclining pleasantly in a comfortable chair, but he knew it would be fleeting. He savoured every moment, trying to forget that he is now unemployed, has no money, and must care for his parents. But the burden came back like a boomerang. Given how hard he throws it away, it always comes back with the same momentum. But what he never anticipated was the chaos and mayhem that would ensue within minutes.

But some weird thing was going on with people paired with NexusSynapse. Instead of interacting with it for several minutes, they would freeze their bodies for a few seconds before continuing their activities by twitching their heads.

'I hope you people get your brains blown off,' Apollo said under his breath again, smiling at his gloomy wish.

Suddenly, the news channel started glitching, and the news anchor’s voice started cracking. As if the channel was getting interrupted. Out of nowhere, an ear-splitting noise went off, and Apollo fell to the floor with his ears covered by both of his hands. The sudden disturbance lasted for a second, and Apollo slowly staggered to his feet, feeling disoriented, and was shocked to see that only he experienced the sound. Everyone else, including people with NexusSynapse, was completely unaffected. It seems as if they did not even see Apollo crash to the floor. They continued their activity—in this case, eating.

Apollo examined the people in the cafe with complete horror. They possessed a look that was devoid of any emotion. The diners all followed the same pattern. Taking the food to their lips, taking a bite, returning the food to the utensil, and chewing it with little muscle motions. All completely synchronised and timed perfectly. Nothing more and less. An apprehensive silence dawned on the people in the cafe, broken only by the clatter of cutlery as fear settled in. With a shallow breath, Apollo made up his mind to leave the cafe. He walked a few steps towards the door, keeping his gaze fixed on the lot. The anchorwoman's broken voice returned, giving Apollo a mini-heart attack. But this time the screen was pitch black, and the cracked voice ran in the background. Apollo forced his legs to walk, each step weighing a ton. He looked uncomfortably at the TV, its broken voice growing more distinct. Slowly and steadily, some words in big, white block letters started becoming more visible against the pitch-black screen. It was as if the typing was done on a typewriter.

Lips dry as sandpaper, Apollo read the words with short breaths and weak knees. It seems the words were struggling to stick to the screen. They would appear and suddenly disappear. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he got to see the fully formed sentence.

‘Beware the song of the siren,’ Apollo read the sentence under his breath as his heart pounded on his chest and the ground spun under his feet. He was sure he was going to pass out. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. He glanced at his right forearm. He had the same words tattooed on his skin. The same words his wife said to him before her departure.

Trepidation mounting on him, Apollo shook his head and decided to leave this place. As he made a few steps towards the door, suddenly the hair on his skin stood up. Everyone inside the cafe stood up and froze with her head bent low. No, even people on the streets were doing the same. Apollo was hesitant about whether to proceed.

Finally, after bracing himself, he took two steps, and all of a sudden, a hand fell on his shoulder. It was a firm grip. Apollo went utterly still, his mind blank with terror. He was afraid to even exhale. His knees were quivering, and suddenly the room turned blistering hot for him. Apollo was facing the door, and all he could see were some reflections of people. Every single soul stood up and was glowering at him. Apollo finally tried to slide the hand away by lowering his shoulders. Out of the blue, that person swiftly put Apollo in a headlock. Apollo gasped, blood rushing to his face. He patted the arm of the person to let off, but there wasn’t any chance. Finally, when he was sure he was going to pass out any second, Apollo balled his fists and sank into the mouth of the person. Spit sprayed on his hand, and the person heaved backwards, crashing into a table. At that exact moment, everyone ran towards him, armed with knives and forks. Apollo quickly exited the cafe by jumping through the open door. As soon as he stepped outside, a wave of hostility spread among the civilians. As they glared at him, their eyes began to give out a sliver of bluish-white light, and they clenched their fists tightly. He was sure something was bound to happen, and he braced himself for the impact.

Immediately, a man in his 40s rushed towards him and swung his fist. Apollo ducked and then punched the man in the stomach. Another person in a sweatshirt tackled him, and Apollo felt the cold asphalt on his face roughly. A woman started stomping on him with her high heels and Apollo could feel pain in various parts of his rib.

‘What’s happening. Pl - Ahh - stop,’ Apollo pleaded, but to no avail. Finally, in a burst of energy, he gave a massive kick to the face of a woman and twisted the leg of a teenager, who cried in pain. Apollo jumped to his feet and showed no mercy. He yanked a man's hair and threw him aside. Another person with curly hair tried to strangle Apollo. The attacker wailed as Apollo grasped his arm and held it in a lock. One of the onlookers on Apollo’s left swung a wooden cane, striking him on the neck. He stumbled forward.

This distanced him from the others, and Apollo took advantage of the situation. He bolted helplessly, and the others followed. Apollo jumped over a car’s hood and swung over a pole to the rooftop of Naini’s Dental Care. He started running, not knowing where. People started throwing whatever they could find at him, and Apollo was having a hard time ducking them. Someone then hurled a baseball bat ferociously at Apollo, and it struck him between the legs. He fell, crashing ear-first to the ground. He yelled, his left ear bleeding profusely. He tried to stand up, but just as he got halfway up, he took an uppercut and fell back. The rest of them reached Apollo, and for the first time, he realised how large the group was. People were coming at him from every direction, dropping whatever they were doing all of a sudden. They tried everything they could to make him feel maximum pain, including punching, stomping, biting, gouging, and strangling. He did not know even half of them. He was feeling so angry. He tried to run away, but now his demonic half gained over.

Apollo seized someone's hair and smacked it against a wall. He caught the arm of someone who tried to sucker punch him, and twisted it with a sickening crack. He headbutted as many as possible, and he started feeling dizzy. He grabbed a woman's throat and tossed her around like a rag doll, and he chewed a man's nose off, causing blood to spill into his face. This brutal, bloody brawl lasted at least 30 minutes, and the only person not lying on the ground, screaming in agony, was a man in his 60s. Apollo twisted his arm, locked it behind his body, and banged his head against a holographic display.

Apollo looked around and saw a swarm of individuals racing towards him with blue, glowing eyes. Apollo dashed to a shop, kicked in the door, and ran to the rooftop. He slowed for a while to gather his breath, and as he had feared, people followed him. Finally, he reached the huge rooftop, with a thick steel rod lying on the floor and picked it up. It was survival. He knew it was wrong to simply harm these people for something that they were not doing intentionally.

But he can't simply die. The faces of his dad and mom made him grip the rod roughly.

People started pouring in, and Apollo wasted no time. He attacked them with brute force, leaving them reeling. Apollo threw the rod at a person with a jackhammer, which landed in his face with a sickening thud. Another person gave Apollo a mighty backhand slap, and Apollo was knocked off his feet. Just as someone was about to stomp on him, Apollo rolled to the other side, swept his legs wide, and knocked his opponent to the ground. Apollo sprang to his feet, deflected an axe strike, headbutted the woman, seized the axe from her grasp when she became dazed, and sliced at her face. Someone else had a grip on his abdomen and was attempting to throw him off the roof. Apollo couldn't stop battling the hefty guy's momentum for a few terrifying seconds. Then, in one rapid action, Apollo swung the axe at the man's hefty back, sending him tumbling. Apollo ducked, tackled the woman, and judo-thrashed her all the way to the lower rooftop as another woman in joggers swung a baseball bat in his face and she didn’t miss her target.

‘What the hell…’ Apollo said, half dazed and face burning with pain, as a bald man gave him a vicious sidekick. Apollo crashed into a flower vase, and its debris fell on him. Suddenly, the owner of the sidekick froze for a moment, twitching his head, and said in a constrained voice, ‘y-you-your… wa- wi- wife.’

‘What about her?' Apollo said this out of pure anxiousness, and he quickly got up and grabbed the person's collar. He twitched his head, and suddenly his whole body began shaking. Blood was bleeding from his ears, and Apollo released his grip. The man dropped to the floor with a giant thud.

‘Tell me ab- ARGHHHH!' Apollo screamed as someone stabbed him with a knife on his shoulders. The pain surged, and Apollo nearly collapsed. He turned back and headbutted her. As she swung her balled fist at him, he dodged the punch, took the remaining flower vase, and smashed it on her head. As she staggered and fell with blank eyes, blood flowed and trickled on her face. Apollo attempted to collect the knife, but it became lodged in his shoulder and his arm was unable to reach it. He got his jaws knocked clean off by a punch from a massive man and skidded a few feet away. Slowly, everyone turned towards him. Some had their heads twitching, and some had injuries, which they neglected with ease. All were armed and carried some sort of pain-inflicting instrument.

‘Hi… Lyrea,’ Apollo said dreamily, his pain slowly sucking away his consciousness. His eyelids were becoming heavier. His arms and legs were like soaked sponges. Saliva dripped from his mouth onto the pool of blood in which he was lying. He could feel the cold ground beneath him and a breeze that sweapt his hair for the last time. His head throbbed uncontrollably, as did the knife wound. So much has happened in the last few hours. He thought about his parents and who would take care of them. Beatrice will take care of them, he mused as he witnessed people advancing towards him with murderous intent.

All of a sudden, when Apollo started to doze off, the air was rent by a deafening crack. A gunshot. The people, who turned their backs on Apollo to check out the new visitor, were perplexed for a moment, not knowing what to do. But the gunshots did not pause. It became even louder, and each shot felt like a punch to Apollo's psyche. Apollo attempted to rise up and observe the massacre, but his body refused to cooperate. The sound of gunfire kept on roaring, as if daring anyone to advance. The mob tried to fight back by attacking the pursuer, but Apollo heard shots ring out and bodies fall, so he concluded that their efforts were futile. He didn’t even care to think about who they might be because he wanted to die free from thoughts.

The gunfire finally ceased as the last of the civilians was half submerged in the pool of blood. Finally, Apollo heard the growing footsteps in his direction and waited for his chance. But something strange happened. Two or three hands pulled him to his feet. His vision was blurred, and his whole body was pulsating with pain. Apollo shut his eyes tight and opened them. Three people were standing in front of him, and two of them had his hand around their shoulders. One had a muscular build and a scruffy beard with a overgrown hair. The other one was a slim woman who looked fierce as she was armed with two shotguns. The other had been a Japanese or Chinese guy with a goatee. He had a katana slung across his back.

‘Who … are … you,’ Apollo croaked with much trouble, and the group paused. Apollo cast a helpless glance to his right, and there stood a teenager. She grinned at him with plump cheeks. Before Apollo could speak, the slim woman spoke suddenly, ‘Are you Apollo?’

‘Yes.’

Apollo abruptly turned to his left and looked at the women with short hair and spectacles. His insides swerved at the possibility of prospective familiarity. He returned his attention to the man with the scruffy beard. The same twisted smile and the same piercing eyes. Nothing made any sense. He was sure his brain was malfunctioning

'You are...' Apollo muttered hoarsely, focussing his gaze on the individual, trying to recall where he had seen him. But like a bullet piercing into his body, Apollo was hit with the answer. There was no need for them to say it.

The Asian guy, growing agitated with the delay, whispered, 'Yes, we are the Purple Resistance.'