"Welcome to New Haven City," the train AI said as the doors opened with a hiss.
As the train doors slid open with a hiss, the crowd spilled out into the station like lazy molasses—each person dragging their morning dread behind them.
That is… until it happened.
A commotion.
A flash of motion.
A loud voice snapped through the air like a whip.
"You think you can just push past me and walk away?!"
Heads turned. Phones lowered. Eyes sharpened.
A tall, muscular man with veins like ropes stood gripping someone by the front of their coat, holding him just slightly off the ground. His brow was furrowed so deep it could cast a shadow. His lips curled into the kind of grin that didn't mean joy—it meant trouble.
"You gonna say sorry or do I have to teach you how to speak?"
We zoom in—past the panicked onlookers, the flickering station lights, the half-eaten vending snacks in a trash can.
And we land on him.
A man, mid-air, being held like a doll.
Unbothered.
Unshaken.
Unaware?
Hood over his head, coat sleeves slightly too long, and a single earbud dangling free now—Axel blinked slowly. His music had been loud, enveloping. The bass still buzzed in one ear.
He tapped his phone screen, pausing the track.
"…Wait, huh?" he said, voice low and more confused than annoyed.
His eyes drifted to the hand gripping his jacket, then lazily up to the angry man's face, then to the people around them watching in silence like they were at a movie screening.
"...Is this, like… about bumping into you?" Axel asked, voice calm, like he'd just woken from a nap. He didn't squirm. Didn't flinch. If anything, he seemed a little… bored?
The tall man grit his teeth. "You got cotton in your ears or somethin'? You shoved past me like I wasn't even there!"
Axel blinked.
"Oh," he muttered.
Then after a pause, he added with the most monotone, totally unapologetic apology imaginable:
"…My bad."
And just like that, he gave a small, polite smile, as if that should wrap up the whole situation with a nice bow.
It didn't.
The man's eye twitched. The crowd held their breath. The tension could be sliced with a spoon, let alone a knife.
But Axel?
He just adjusted the crumple in his hoodie and reached down to pick up the earbud that had slipped.
The man held Axel up for a beat longer, eyes squinting as if trying to calculate the vibe and the vibe was weird.
Axel wasn't scared.
He wasn't aggressive.
He just looked...thin.
Not the kind of thin that looked weak. Nah. The kind of thin that made you wonder if this guy even ate, or if he just absorbed moonlight and trauma.
The man frowned.
"…Tch."
He let go.
Axel dropped down with a light thud, barely reacting. He straightened his hoodie, popped his earbud back in, and gave a small nod like he was mildly inconvenienced by gravity.
The guy grumbled something under his breath and turned, pushing past the watching crowd. A few people stepped back quickly, pretending they weren't watching, suddenly very interested in the station map or the snack machine.
One kid near the front whispered, "...He let him go?"
Someone else replied, "Dude looked like he hadn't slept since 2009. I wouldn't risk it either."
Axel walked forward, slipping his hands into his pockets, music back on, the world fading into that private bubble only the truly lost in thought can occupy.
And just like that, the moment was over.
But not forgotten.
Not by the kid who watched from behind the pillar laughing at Axel.
Not by the old man who muttered something about "not all bones being brittle."
And certainly not by the man who'd let Axel go who, for reasons he couldn't explain, felt like he'd been the one spared
Seemingly unbothered axel just continued on his way but he glanced at the bystanders for a second.
Looking at them with a face devoid of emotion he then walked away. Striding through crowds with effortless precision.
The station exit led him to a narrow alley which he turned into. A knife narrowly missing his shoulder.
Not aimed at him, but at the fellow who barely ducked behind him. A fist swung, missing completely as well. The school kid fell back into a scuffle Axel ignoring all of it.
And walked to his old, run down apartment complex described as breeding mold.
"I see you returned a bit early today, Axel!" Sitting in a security booth was a woman who waved.
He responded with a nod and glance toward her.
Smiles? None. Words? None.
Without pausing for her to continue, he continued on with his business walking to the apartment complex.
A bottle was tossed from the second floor. He picked it up as it fell and threw it in a recycling bin. To everyone else, it probably looked like the world's easiest magic trick.
Walking up the stairs he passed the first, second, third, fourth and finally at the fifth floor he entered room five zero one.
He opened the door. A wave of stale air and a bouquet of putrid smells assaulted him. Garbage and unwashed clothes littered the room along with a pile of dirty dishes.
A sigh, but deeper this time.
He grabbed a trash bag and got to work.
The only sounds were the mops and brooms working in perfect tandem to cut through the filth.
One hour later.
He checked his phone and, as expected, the clock was mocking him.
So he went to the kitchen.
Immediately, the fridge: soda and cheese.
An elaborate prank waiting to happen.
Ignoring the imaginary laugh track, he grabbed both.
The spaghetti he had to gobble down earlier still lounged on the kitchen counter, warm. With a spout of Coke, some melted cheese, and a sprinkle of self-loathing, he had a feast.
Plopping on the couch, the holo TV flickered to life and prattled on:
> "Another wave of suspected terrorist attacks across the country."
"Officials confirm the casualty count is rising—mass detonation, civilian centers..."
"No suspects... no survivors..."
Blank.
TV off, not a single thought to spare.
It was 11:50 AM.
He chuckled.
Soft hum of a tiny timer filled the air.
Walking to the window, he could see the entire world below.
From where he was looking out on the fifth floor, the train station that he had just visited was blowing up.
Screaming, fire, and glass were everywhere.
He could see corpses of people he used to see moving around and laughing sipping his coke he saw the cops down and then remembered.
That friendly apartment lady was also dead and he slumped her over her desk, blood dripping onto the welcome mat.
Tenants in nearby rooms were shot or impaled too.
Axel taking another sip remembered again had killed them all.
Every single one.
Twenty thousand dead. Half a million injured.
What we saw was just a delusion. A lie he told himself to not go mad.
In truth, he sat in blood-soaked clothes, eating spaghetti in silence. Tomato sauce on his lips or maybe it wasn't tomato.
He slurped.
Behind him, boots pounded up the stairs.
A SWAT team smashed through the door.
Then [BANG].
A bullet tore through his skull.
Time: 12:00 p.m.
Black.
Then gasp.
Axel woke up in bed, drenched in sweat.
He looked around. Alive.
Again and much healthier and less thin then before.
He sighed.
> "Day 92 ended with my death," he muttered.
Then he sat up and stretched.
Like it was just another Tuesday well that was an interesting way for things to go.
A screen blinked faintly and a skill label appeared:
—SKILL USER:AXEL RAZE—
Skill Name: WANDERER
Status: Active
Set restart: null