Killshot Apocalypse 1

“Trace Taylor, you will come back here right this instant!” 

The young woman paused right at the driveway of her home. She glanced back at her Mum and Dad, both standing at the front door, a bristly welcome mat laid out just before them, a stark juxtaposition to their tones of voice. Neither gave chase. They gave her an order, and that was to return to the house.

It was a nice little suburban home, with a neatly trimmed lawn and a pair of parents who thought they knew everything that was ever good for her. So, of course, Trace did what anyone would’ve done in her shoes and stormed off, ignoring their shouts as though she had headphones on. 

The ruckus drew the attention of the neighbours. But this was normal for the Taylor family, and the passersby stayed well clear from it. She crunched through the fallen leaves littered throughout the pavement, carpeting the tarmac a vibrant orange. A slight shiver ran down her spine as she adjusted her signature red scarf, the autumn weather in the east coast far too cool for her liking. 

Boarding a bus, Trace tapped her student card on its payment machine and found a seat. The destination sign flashed a name. Liberapolis. It was the largest city in the area. One of the largest in her state.

Trace pulled out her wireless earphones and plugged them into her ears, drowning out the sea of noise that came from the bustling crowd with her favourite songs. Truthfully, she just didn’t want to be bothered. An eighteen-year-old redhead like her would be lucky if a man whose breath smelled as trashy as his words didn’t approach her during the bus ride. 

With music playing in her ears, she was off to the only sanctuary she had: The Evergreen Gun Range.

* * *

“Stupid. Fucking. Assholes!” Three shots rang out. Each accentuated a word. Trace Taylor lowered the handgun. It was a standard eight rounder pistol, an extra round loaded in the chamber, fairly easy to use. She was normally not much of a gun person herself, however she had to vent right now. 

“Yo, chill out Trace.” Liz whistled. “Never seen you this pissed before. Not gonna lie, don’t you think that’s going a little too far?” 

Snorting, Trace released the magazine before swiftly loading a new set of bullets into it. With a click, she switched the safety back on. “I’m not talking about my parents. They’re just idiots. I’m talking about those fucking cocksuckers I rejected on the bus, mocking me for my bloody accent. It’s not my fault I don’t pronounce ‘literally’ as ‘lid-uh-ra-lee.’” 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think your British accent is lovely,” Liz said in a faux posh voice. 

“It’s an Estuary English accent.” Trace rolled her eyes. “Also, not helping, Liz.”

“That’s what best friends are for!” 

They were practically sisters at this point. Elizabeth Evergreen, better known as Liz, was the only daughter of Jason Evergreen, the owner of the small gun range Trace was currently crashing in: The Evergreen Gun Range. It was located right at the edge of Liberapolis, a rather large city, even for the east coast. And since Jason Evergreen was abroad on a trip with his mistress right now, business was closed, leaving only the pair to use the facilities to their hearts’ delight.

“So, why did you run away?” Liz leaned back on her chair, speaking casually. “What kinda drama-filled day led to you storming out this time?”

“It wasn’t just one single event. You know that as well as I do. It’s everything about them.” 

Trace sighed as she glanced up at the hanging lights. 

“They’re control-freaks. They just don’t understand—” Looking back down, she paused. “Liz?” 

Her friend was gone. The chair Liz had been sitting in was now empty. The room was dead silent, no signs of life anywhere. 

“Hello?” No response. The redhead pursed her lip. “Liz, this isn’t funny—” 

And the world around her vanished. The floor dissolved as the ceiling bubbled up into foam. The walls collapsed, peeling off like old paint. Everything rapidly shifted. A new platform rose up beneath her and a sable dome fell overhead. 

Trace stumbled back, her eyes bulging from their sockets. “Wha—” 

“GREETINGS.” 

A voice interrupted her. It was almost a shout. She jerked and spun around, facing the only figure standing amidst the darkness. “W-who are you?” 

The figure stepped forward, a green snout emerging from the shadows. Yellow eyes, slit-like pupils, granular scales. “NAME: TRACE TAYLOR. AGE: EIGHTEEN. COUNTRY OF BIRTH: ENGLAND. GREETINGS, I AM BOB OF THE ESVOL AND I COME IN PEACE.” 

The realisation of what this figure was slowly sunk into Trace’s mind. It was a lizard person. “Holy shit.” No, not a lizard person. “You’re a fucking alien!” She aimed her pistol at the reptilian’s skull warningly. “Stay back! Don’t you fucking dare probe me!” 

“PROBE?” It… the thing… ‘Bob’ raised his chin, a thoughtful expression passing through his face. “A HUMAN CONCEPTION OF EXTRATERRESTRIAL ACTIVITIES. THERE IS NO NEED TO WORRY. WE ARE NOT INTERESTED IN THE ANATOMY OF A HUMAN FEMALE. I ASSURE YOU, WE COME IN PEACE—”

“Yeah right!” Trace flicked the safety off as perspiration trickled down her fingertips. “This is the part where you do the opposite of that and enslave humanity, isn’t it? I’m not falling for your bullshit!”   

‘Bob’ frowned. “IT SEEMS THE HUMAN SPECIMEN DOUBTS MY INTENTIONS.” 

“How astute. Did me telling you to ‘fuck off’ clue you in on that?” 

Ignoring her, he continued to himself. “I HAVE NO CHOICE BUT TO ATTEMPT ADVANCED DIPLOMACY.” 

Trace blinked. Advanced diplomacy? Oh fuck, if he dared to try and brainwash her— 

Spreading his arms wide, ‘Bob’ began to shift. His form flickered as a ripple washed over his scales. Each small section of his body was being flipped, replaced by a fairer skin tone as his face grew inwards. The lizard person was now, well, a regular person. 

Now with brown hair, blue eyes, and a charming smile on his face, he strolled up to Trace and proffered her his hand. “Apologies, m’lady.” He tipped a black cap at her.

And she pistol-whipped him. He grasped at his chin, slowly transforming back to his reptilian form. 

“Stay the fuck away from me you freak!” 

“ADVANCED DIPLOMACY FAILED. SEEKING ALTERNATE PATHS.” ‘Bob’s’ eyes flickered. His irises slid behind his eyelids before returning a different color. A pale gold. “BRUTEFORCE EXPLANATION SEEMS TO BE THE ONLY VIABLE ROUTE. BEGINNING INTRODUCTION SPEECH.” 

“What are you… on about?”

“CONGRATULATIONS, TRACE TAYLOR OF EARTH A314. YOUR UNIVERSE HAS MET THE REQUIREMENTS TO JOIN OUR NETWORK OF SYSTEM-OPERATED WORLDS. IN THIS TEMPORARY POCKET DIMENSION, YOU WILL BE UNDERGOING THE INITIATION PROTOCOLS NECESSARY TO ACCLIMATE WITH THE REST OF THE MULTIVERSE.” 

Multiverse? Pocket dimension? Initiation? What the fuck was going on?! Her mind raced with all these words she only ever heard in science fiction movies. She opened her mouth to ask a question, but ‘Bob’ spoke over her. 

“YOU WILL BE PROVIDED YOUR OWN ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE ASSISTANT TO ENSURE YOUR SAFE RETURN TO THE NEWLY-CONNECTED EARTH. IT WILL GUIDE YOU THROUGH THE VERY CHANGED LANDSCAPE OF YOUR PLANET AFTER YOU COMPLETE THE TUTORIAL PROGRAMME.” 

Trace narrowed her eyes. “Wait, you’re going to insert a fucking microchip in me?” 

“IT IS NOT A MICROCHIP. RATHER, IT IS A NANOCHIP THAT WILL BE PAINLESSLY ATTACHED TO YOUR BRAIN MATTER.” ‘Bob’ took a step, and she drew back.

“That does not make things better—” He tapped a sharp finger on her forehead, and she reeled. “Ouch— the fuck? Was that the nanochip?”

“THAT IS CORRECT.”

“Take it out you fuckface!” She fired a shot at him.

‘Bob’ caught it, to her disbelief. “I WILL NOT. YOU WILL BE PROMPTLY EXTERMINATED IF YOU RETURN TO EARTH WITHOUT ANY CONNECTION TO THE SYSTEM. THE NANOCHIP ENSURES THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN.” 

“How does that even work? What even is this ‘System?’ That doesn’t make any sense! Go and fuck—" A stinging sensation caused Trace to wince. She grabbed for her head, but her hand turned into a blur. A dizziness settled over the redhead. “What is?…”

“IT HAS BEEN DONE. INITIALISING TUTORIAL SEQUENCE.” With a snap of his fingers, the dark curtain shrouding over them began to vanish. A light engulfed him as his body started to dematerialise along with the pocket dimension.

“Fuck…you…” Trace collapsed. Her mind spun as the shadows from walls crept up over her eyes. 

‘Bob’ spoke one last time, as if his loud voice was coming through static. “TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION: THE SYSTEM IS THE OVERSEER OF THE MULTIVERSE. IT IS WHAT UNITES ALL THE UNIVERSES IN THE NETWORK. YOUR SPECIES HAS PASSED THE REQUISITE POPULATION OF TEN BILLION SAPIENT BEINGS RESIDING IN EARTH A314, AND CAN NOW JOIN THE GREATER WORLD.” 

* * *

[Tutorial sequence initiated,] a monotonous voice said as Trace woke up. 

She rubbed her eyes and stretched her back, a yawn escaping through her lips. Then she remembered the events of earlier. Trace leapt to her feet, gun still in hand, glancing around warily. “Where am I? Who said that?” 

[Hello, I am your artificial intelligence assistant, XTR-4715. You are currently undergoing the tutorial sequence.] 

“XTR-4715— wait, are you that nanochip they forced in my head?” 

[Affirmative.]

She wanted to curse, tell the AI to get out of her head. But she knew the blame would be misplaced. If anyone was at fault, it was that ‘Bob.’ “Ugh, where did that bastard go?”

Trace stood and took in the room around her. The floors and walls were white, like the kind you’d see in a laboratory. There was a hallway before her, brightly lit, with a creature standing at the very end. It looked like a giant rat with no tail and no fur. A pair of fangs stabbed down from its crooked jaw as it stared at her with hollow black eyes. 

“What the fuck is that?” She fell back to the ground, pointing a shaking finger at the creature. 

[Giant Rat - Lvl 1.] 

The voice in her head did not elaborate. It felt quite odd, having something speak from inside of her. It sounded like a second set of thoughts, one which she had no control over.

Taking a few calming breaths, Trace steadied herself back to her feet. 

“Hey, to the AI in my head, could you please explain why that giant fucking rat is standing before me?” she asked kindly. 

[Objective: Reach the fifth floor of the tutorial tower to complete the sequence. It is recommended that a basic class is chosen to eliminate the giant rats in each room.]

Reach the fifth floor? Trace glanced up at a glowing number just above the corridor. She was apparently on the first floor. “Alright, and what are these classes?” 

[The commonly chosen basic classes are as follows: 

Warrior - A basic class specialised for close-quarters-combat. 

Ranger - A basic class specialised for long-range combat. 

Rogue - A basic class specialised for mixed combat.

Spellcaster - A basic class specialised for magical combat.] 

“This sounds like a video game…” She tilted her head back. “Say, erm, XS—” 

[XTR-4715.]

“Right, that. Do you know what each of these classes do?” 

[Each class will offer different skills and bonuses to your traits. These will all reflect in not just your status, but also in what you are capable of accomplishing.]

“My status?” Her eyes widened as a screen appeared before her.

 

Name: Trace Taylor

Race: Human (Earth A314) 

Class: N/A

Vocation: N/A

Craft: Locked

Traits: 

Strength: E-

Magic: G

Endurance: F+

Vitality: F

Dexterity: E

Skills: 

N/A

 

“What is all this?” 

[It is an overview of your person. Would you like me to explain each section of your status screen?]

Shaking her head, Trace leaned against the wall and massaged her temples. “No, I think I’ve got the gist of it.” Magic was a thing too. She’d have been more surprised, if not for how absolutely exhausted she was right now. “Just… let me complete this tutorial and go home. I think I need to lie down.” 

She forced herself forward, stopping right at the entrance of the hallway. Trace stared at the giant rat, the screen almost invisible when she wasn’t focusing on it. The AI’s voice echoed in her head. It warned her of what was to come. 

[Trace Taylor, you have not yet chosen a class to battle the giant rat. The tutorial has begun. If you do not choose a class, you will be ripped to shreds.]

Choose a class? There were a few options. But did she really have a choice if it was all being imposed on her? She hated the restrictions Mum and Dad always placed on her, which was part of the reason why she left just earlier today. 

And now, even if she was faced with a monster, she had a choice. An actual choice for herself to make. Death wasn’t certain, unlike with ‘Bob.’ Choosing a class was merely recommended by the tutorial. So, she made her own decision. 

A shot rang out, and there was a thud. Trace lowered her pistol.

“I think I’m good.” 

[You have defeated a Giant Rat – Lvl 1!] Its voice was unnaturally excited for a brief moment, then it returned to its monotonous tone. [Wait, that was not supposed to happen.]