Central Singapore - October 28th, 2049 at 1:53 pm local time

The firefight intensifies. Bullet casings blanket the space, accompanying the dust and debris of destroyed buildings from lengthy bombing campaigns. I go for some cover near a partially burnt vehicle to avoid heavy gunfire coming from the second floor. It has to be taken out for my team to capture the objective. To flush out the mounted gunner, my teammates and I hurl our grenades, cover our ears to reduce the impact of the multiple blasts, and wait. Silence. He's dead.

This is our cue to charge.

Specks of concrete crack beneath tough leather boots as we go forward. Our increasing momentum stops. A sudden noise causes this. It occurs close by. I peer over my shoulder to see the sight. A horrible sight. A sight of limbs and blood. My colleague... He's legless. A cloud stirs and pebbles and rain down on him as he struggles to get up. His vitality flees with every bend and drag of what remains. He says to go on without him. We have no choice. You can't sweat the little things. We leave our teammate to die. I turn to take my last look at him, but gunfire sees him off. Holes riddle him, ending this valiant soldier. My focus returns to the mounted gunner. He has avoided death somehow.

From here on out, we have to be careful. We note the landmines planted throughout, but to avoid them, we will have to reduce our speed. This puts us at the mercy of the lone gunner. Luckily for us, our exoskeletons can compensate for this. Current levels of genetic manipulation can only take us so far. With them activated, the gap closes. The gunner goes into swift movements before surprising us with other soldiers to aid him. Questions come to me. Did they teleport to him? Are they holograms? Clones?

With all these possibilities, there has to be an answer; my gun will figure it out. Shots ring out, striking each one to reveal their pixelated nature.

But this leaves an opportunity for the enemy. A pair of headshots put down the second of three teammates. However, he revives. A green glow rejuvenates him. With this chance, he rushes for some cover. The two of us follow in heed to regroup. After taking a moment to breathe and think, we rush for the door. One of us throws a grenade to remove any potential explosives waiting for us. The size of the blast indicates there is not one, nor two, but five. It obliterates much of the wall facing us. This makes our entry easier as we storm in. My two remaining teammates are just about inside with me trailing them when a bullet pierces my chest. I place my hand over the area I was shot as I fall to the ground. Even though my heart wasn't hit, I won't last long. The now characteristic unrelenting fury of the gunner is no longer directed at us. I hear his rounds fade into the distance.

For him to take his attention away from us, it means there's a sni—

Someone picks me up. My perspective turns upside down, making me nauseous. As he carries me inside, the air becomes thick. A hiss comes into being, seemingly in tandem with the growing cloak of grey and clashing with the dampened sounds of sniper fire.

My partner is going at a good pace. We near the building, but as we go in, his balance wavers, causing a smack to the ground. Agony gives way to concern as the man who carried me fights through his own pain to tend to my injuries. The other soldier informs us he will check the space for any traps. I rest against the automated digital cashing station where my partner takes off my bullet-proof vest and unbuttons my shirt to reveal the red stain pouring out of me. He tells me since it missed my heart, I will regenerate from this wound in a few hours. He takes a cotton swab and places one of the ends inside a tiny jar before putting it in me. It feels weird to have something so slender move about my chest, but it's to help speed up the healing process. I stare at what's in front of me—rows of snacks, fridges full of drinks, and freezers packed with frozen items—to distract my eyes from the long, slender item making its way through me. We must be at a convenience store. Considering how dilapidated the exterior and how dark and dirty the interior is, I would've never believed this place used to be one.

"Guys, there seem to be no traps. Let's get to moving to the next floor," remarks the standing soldier.

I re-button my shirt, put on back my vest and grasp my gun—all with a sense of lagginess to them. It's time to resume the mission. But before we do, we should take a quick snack. I tell my colleagues about this and they reply stating the food must be well expired, but with how worn out and hungry we are, any nourishment will do.

I grab a large bag of potato chips with a soda, while the others take a bag of nuts and a pack of frozen pork buns. The one with the pork buns searches for a microwave, rummaging through the rubble in the hopes for one that works. With his persistence, he finds one behind a slab of rubble with rebar jotting from it. It isn't functioning, so he taps it a few times for it to come on. This allows him to unpackage it so he can stuff in the four buns and set the machine to a minute. As the microwave heats them up, the building rattles to bring down a brown haze from the ceiling.

The one with the nuts is watching over the entrance to the stairway to the second floor. He feels too unsettled to eat. Instead, he places it in his pocket.

Once the rattling stops, we listen for signs that he's still shooting at the sniper. The repeating fire racing out of hearing range signals that he's still preoccupied with him.

This is perfect. With him distracted, we can (hopefully) sneak attack him. However, a teammate notifies us of a landmine at the first step and states he will defuse it. We express our concerns, highlighting that our explosives specialist died not that long ago. But he had some knowledge of defusing bombs, so he will try for the sake of the mission.

As he works on defusing the mine, a SHOO! comes and goes. After this, a huge blast rocks the store. Rumbles lead to cracks and cracks lead to collapse. The last thing we see is darkness. It's 'GAME OVER'.

Spouting my anger, I take off my VR headset and fling it against the glass casing above me to create a dull noise. It was almost as if it hit against rubber. Judging from the SHOO!, it was most likely a hypersonic jet. Those things are crazy fast.

I should've never played with a bunch of randoms online. But as a fifteen-year-old with the dream of becoming a pro-e-athlete, I have to make do with ranked mode. Hopefully, I'll be good enough to make tons of money and prove my parents wrong. I jump back into my pod and put on my headset to play another round. Shutting itself in, I turn it on and enter the game, but the game will not connect to the servers. I try again with no success. Other attempts do nothing to rectify the problem. The words 'DEVICE WILL NOT CONNECT' plasters my field of view. I get out to examine the 7.5G wi-fi router to discover everything about it is in proper working order. This prompts me to troubleshoot my headset. Through this, I realise there is damage to the internal wi-fi receiver that makes it useless for anything online, not just gaming in the metaverse. Looks like I have to get a new one. If I do get a new headset, which one I should buy?

The TDX-8+?

The Bellinger 32K?

The Canton Wideview VR10?

Taking count of my money some days ago, I should have more than enough to get any of them online. Owning one should mitigate the lag I experience while in matches. What I currently experience is minor, but lag is sometimes the difference between winning and losing a tournament. Heard about a sale that's supposed to start in a few days that will get me one for at least 30% off. I just need to check my digital wallet. Thinking lets me activate the microchip embedded between my thumb and index finger, bringing up a display to show my balance. It says that I have one thousand, two hundred and fifty dollars.

This amount makes me sad. To get a good one for metaverse gaming, I need about a thousand dollars more. The money I have now will get me a cheap headset that's good for interacting in social spaces and other lower-intensity activities. Since I'm a few years too young to take out a small loan, I have no choice but to ask my parents.

I muster up the bravery within me and go to my father's pod. He should be on break right now. I glance at my smartwatch to see that the time is a little over two o'clock—2:15 to be exact. This is the ideal time to ask him. I ball my hand into a fist to attempt to knock on his pod, but something comes over me. I sweat and shake for an entire minute. Confusion dilutes my thoughts and actions. I become stunted. To tap on his pod feels like an impossibility. I wonder if I should ask my mother, but I remember that she isn't any easier. My father is more reasonable than her, so if I'm going to get the money, he's my only option.

Come on, Aiden. Just do it! No need to be scared of your parents. The worst they can do is say no. And maybe get angry at you if they're not in a good mood.

I don't man up. I'm a coward. Feeling ashamed of myself, I run to the corner of our four hundred square foot apartment and place my head to the top of my knees and close my eyes. As I do so, a voice all too familiar calls out to me.

"Are you okay, Aiden? Did someone cyberbully you again?" I hear the pod open up and his footsteps become louder and louder until they stop near to me. "You remember what we talked about last time, right? With the recently tightened anti-hate and discrimination laws, no one should make you feel bad."

I look into his eyes. "It's not that, dad."

"So what is it, then? Tell me."

"My headset. I broke it."

"Oh? It's that? Well then, take it out of your digital wallet."

I don't have enough money.

"Can you say that again? I can't hear you."

"I don't have enough money."

"That's better." He folds his arms. "So what you're saying is that you want to ask me for some money? Am I right or am I right?"

I tell him that he is right. This elicits a "Sorry, son. I can't help you."

Hearing this, I bribe him with the one thing Asian parents care about more than anything: grades. I remind him of me being an A+ student and the promise we made a year ago that as long as I maintain good grades, they will support my dream. And from my last report card, I got straight A's, so my dad concedes. I tell him about how much money I need before checking his wallet. When he looks at the amount he has, a disappointed expression washes over him. "I don't have enough to pay for the one you want, son. Looks like you have to make do with a cheaper one."

The news was crushing. If he doesn't have enough, then I have to use a second-grade one like the Basil-PBX. The input delay for that one is horrible. But wait... what am I doing begging for money? I have a friend who can fix it for me for free‌. But he probably doesn't want to see me after our fight some months back. It will take hours to fix it, but I really do need to get in as much practice as possible. The situation forces my hand. I tell dad I'm leaving to meet my friend. This headset needs to get fixed as soon as possible. He waves goodbye as I exit the room with my backpack and race through the hallway to the elevator with the VR set inside of it. It takes some time for the elevator to reach where I am because of the height of many residential buildings being over 1100 metres on average.

When it arrives, I rush in once it empties full of people and I sail down to the bottom floor after entering where I want to go on the small display that has either the ability to type in the floor number or to scroll to the number you want. I do the former, and from there the elevator descends. This gives me time to hire an autonomous taxi. I send the amount wirelessly and when I reach the base level, a message informing me ‌it's ready and waiting comes into view.

Leaving the ornately decorated and lit lobby, a message pops up, stating, "Here's what I can give you, Aiden. Hope you have a safe trip. :)" I got exactly seven hundred dollars—certainly not enough to purchase what I wanted, but regardless, I'm grateful for it.

Thanks, dad. I reply to his kind gesture once I enter the car. With silence and elegance, it drives me to his home twenty minutes away.

His apartment complex should come up any moment now. The eagerness for him to fix it gets overshadowed by a message of urgency and excitement. This confuses me, so I reply. He responds quickly, telling me to hurry up. So I do hurry up. I hurry out the car, into the lobby, up the elevator, and across the hallway to his apartment door. It opens as I arrive, revealing a figure that shocks me.

"It's—It's a monst—"

It covers my mouth with its palm. The taste of lizard scales gross me out, but I don't want to make a peep with the claws it bears. It then pulls me inside face first; its fingers squeezing my cheeks to where my teeth can feel them. From here on out, it's me and the beast.

"What's up, Aiden?"

How does it know my name?!

Put in a lot of work for this one. I hope you liked this chapter. If possible, please like, follow, share, comment and place this book in your Wattpad library. I would really appreciate it if you do.