((Patient Number 9 By Ozzy Osbourne))The ignorant raindrops tried to fall straight into the swimming pool adjacent to the house till they got prevented by the protective bubble around. Without angles and the lack of reflection from the surrounding lights, the room didn’t seem to exist until the water splashed against it. The rain stopped abruptly, just like when it started. Smoothly, the swimming pool detached itself from the house, floating into the more open space, as a connecting corridor sliding out. Hovercars flew above and beneath the building and the pool area although some of them couldn’t get close, for this was a private zone. As a shape exited the house onto the adjoining corridor, what seemed like liquid silver filled up the clear material. At the end of the corridor, Dr. Aber stripped the bathrobe. Without the lines on his face created by his moodiness, he was still young. At most, in the mid-90s or the early-100s.From the inside, the walls still stayed invisible c
((Into The Fire by Asking Alexandria))Every minute, every second counts. Even a decisecond can decide between living and dying for someone like Blaise DaSilva. The end was unexpected, had never been in scenarios he had imagined, though maybe it was too early to be described as an end. It was a matter of seconds before he was discovered. The dead man in the stall, the blood, and the gun lying a few feet away; he could rash into one stall to hide but it would be useless. The bathroom didn’t have a door; nothing was there that would separate it from the corridor. Like the room where the kidnapped were placed, it had very basic functions. The computers along with other devices embedded around the bathroom had been carved out; the slots the size of two fingers were empty and broken. He had checked them so he knew. Something beeped, but before he could find out what it was; he heard a shout from the open entrance. “Bast!” He was yet to see the person but he recognized the voice. The
For the first time since his escape from the abandoned city, he was in a real life-threatening crisis. He had defined this outcome, more or less, when he chose to gamble his life half a day ago. They wasted no time before opening fire. If it were both sides, Blaise would be left with little to no chance. But for some reason, one side was only watching. What changed his mind?As usual, life flickered before his eyes as he waved through the brief period of time whose minute details were ever changing with his movements and choices. Time had passed five minutes since the last starting point when he was selecting a duration for the virtual key. That was the only saving grace for him. The battle was very short-lived. In less than ten seconds a dead body decided a conclusion that was unexpected for everyone except one person, the shooter.The shot came from the opposite direction. Instead of him who should be lying there, the bullet penetrated one of their own. Their attention immediate
Noah didn’t recognize him until it was too late. ‘What’s wrong with this kid?’ was the gist of his thought process when he noticed what he was doing. He gave off a bad vibe that made people want to avoid him, normal citizens like himself at least. He couldn’t speak for the villainous people who kept them here.Most teenagers had rebellious streaks, and some went to the extreme lengths, wearing phosphorus tattoos on their faces, cutting their flesh, and doing suicidal stunts such as jumping off their hoverbikes without anti-gravity shoes. ‘Was he one of them?’ the question flew out of his mind as quickly as it entered, at the time.Slowly, he tried to turn on the bed as hard as the concrete floor, the pungent smell flooded into his nostrils. His ribs hurt him. A groan escaped his mouth. It must be late or even the next day; this felt like such a long time after the last meal. He tilted his head to check the bed next to his; his face also hurt. Daniel was asleep, as well as several othe
The second time walking or rather crawling on this short route was extraneously longer than the first time. Noah had become a punching bag for two extremely thuggish-looking gang members. Despite all of them being thugs, these two had more the ‘look’ than the majority.The tats glowed white on their arms and chests coated in sweat. Like bloodsuckers, their eyes tinted red, and dazed–but not so much that he could have escaped from their torment. The bulkier one was the one who tried to rouse the other gang members to kill him back in the bathroom. “What’s the point of living?” A foot landed on his already painful ribs. “Like a slave?!”“Pointless.”“Die.” He curled up in a fetal position on the floor, his face covered in snot and tears, just wishing for them to stop. He was a damn reporter; he couldn’t believe he had ended up as a victim himself.Noah could see the irony in his own surprise; still, it wasn’t helping. Many people assumed they were safe, like the world revolved aroun
“Whose clothes are they?” Blaise asked, a couple of minutes later. He sat at the edge of the bed with one hand holding the gun on his knee. “Umm… Henry’s,” Ivan answered, standing at the black slide door of the wardrobe which had emerged with a touch. Antonio stood awkwardly nearby his buddy, groaning, the knife still in his shoulder. Once in a while, both threw the defeated and yet treacherous peeks at him. “He was almost your underboss once, but dead and gone?” “Y–yeah.” Both their faces said silently why he was asking if he already knew, and under the surface was the confusion: how he knew this.“Who killed them? You?”They threw out a few names swiftly, even included a few descriptions for their appearances without him asking, such as, ‘you know that one with the birthmark on his neck?’ or ‘the two motherfuckers with the glow tats on their arms,’ and so on. For their own names, he had them introduced earlier.“Antonio, tell someone, a girl or an AI, to send the first aid kit
Four hours later, he woke up to see the glass frosted with a thick, white layer of snow. ‘The abrupt climate change within the past 24 hours.’ The text twirled above his arm before it disappeared. Pages, texts, and walking, talking figures squeezed out of his wristband, and dwelled around him as he headed to the adjoining bathroom to clean himself. Right before his eyes hovered tiny 3-D figures in a miniature room. Just out of curiosity, he muted the rest, to hear what they were talking about although he already figured out the gist.The former owner of TheGalaxyHero127 was complaining to the cops. He was almost fully recovered within a few days, sitting in an upscale living room while the two police sat opposite him. He was describing how some low-life dragged him out of his hovercar and beat him to a pulp while he was minding his own business inside. The surveillance system didn’t completely cover The Ground, which was why the police had not been able to hunt him down, one officer
He gave them a warning by looking each of them straight in the eyes. They moved their hands away.They crossed the air toward him, up, left, and right. He had experienced neither this attack nor some of what he had faced during this timeline, despite his rewinds. Regardless, he could calculate their moves.One after another, he sent them down, in under a minute. The hall was silent again, just like when he had entered.“Underboss…” someone breathed, who had been among the four kidnappers of his. Blaise let the gravity pull him down and crouched down by his side.“Wh–what do you want?” “That,” he tapped on his own wristband.“Sure thing.” Sticky long hair shaking, he nodded quickly. “And password.”The answer was immediate.“Anything else?”“That’s enough, for now.”He headed in the direction away from everyone. He passed through the dark portal shape which was blinking with static. Somebody—from the audience—had damaged pixalates near the door on his way out, after being caught in