"This city stinks today," I muttered to myself, walking down the steps to the subway platform. A few beads of sweat gathered on my armpits and moistened the underarms of my expensive dress shirt I bought for a job interview today. "It's hot, too."
The mugginess is quite normal anywhere on Earth these days due to Dungeon Gates that appeared in 1931, 100 years ago. Dungeon Gates are like portals to another world, containing all the fauna of whichever planet is within. Of this fauna, many contain aggressive animals and monsters that must be killed before the Gate weakens and breaks, allowing the monsters to onvade.
I continued down the steps, and at the end of my descent, I lifted my eyes and took a glance at my surroundings, continuing on. I noticed all the old sirens from the Decade of Brutality that occurred when these monsters inevitably invaded, two weeks after they appeared in 1931.
With all the confusion and fear, a massive proportion of humanity was killed before a great discovery occured: the Manacules that seeped into our world streamlined our anatomy and formed vessels within our body. Save for myself and eleven percent of humanity, people could manipulate the Ambient Manacules to use magic or enhance their own strength using Inherent Manacules.
Essentially, as I walk through the commuters sipping their own coffee, I only feel the heat that these otherworldly particles produce. Luka, my best friend, always looks at me like I'm crazy when I say I can't see the particles among the skylines or hanging above the streets.
I tossed my lukewarm coffee in a garbage can as I arrived at the card scanner, scanned on in, then took a few strides towards the crowd in front of my train. I stood there, listening to the slow R&B music flowing into my ears through my headphones, not relaxed at all. My foot tapped the ground almost disruptively.
I was stressing out about my upcoming interview. My mind ran quickly, worrying about my circumstances. I really needed this job, and as a matter of fact, I needed any job.
The interview I was going to was at Stern Dungeoneering, one of the corporations set up by one of the two heroes of the decade of brutality, George Kilgore. He was from New York as well, so the headquarters lie in Midtown Manhattan, acting as the peak within the range of skyscrapers and high rises to flaunt their obvious east coast monopoly.
Heads looked upwards and I paused my song and heard a robotic voice inform the area that my train arrives in 2 minutes. I resumed my music, foot tapping even harder.
I applied for an accountant position since I'm powerless. Not to mention, accountants are paid low wages as well. The industry is a complete meritocracy and very competitive, with the strong getting paid the most. I'm fairly certain the two "Heroes" ensured it would remain this way.
So that's why I'm standing here, sweating in my rented suit, sweating to death, praying I get the job, cursing whoever sent these damned Gates to our world. It might be humanity that marginalizes me, but the Gates surely accelerated my suffering.
The mob of workers lifted their eyes from their phones as the train rolled nearer to a stop. I quickly sped from the pillar I was leaning on and ducked my tall frame onto the train. I sat down, but noticed an elderly woman trying to enter the train.
I got up, set my briefcase down on the seat and gently moved some people out of the way and shepherded her to my seat. She thanked me and handed me my briefcase.
I grabbed onto one of the hand straps, thankful my headphones were still on, because the sea of people still flooding onto the car were overstimulating for me.
The doors remained ajar as the last of the crowd piled in the train car. It was packed, but everyone was able to fit in. Though, before the doors could close, the ground began vibrating. It began tickling my feet, then immediately picked up fervor and almost sent me reeling. The air was even muggier than even a few minutes ago.
I lost my balance for a moment, and the train was almost silent, with people exchanging nervous glances, and a couple's baby began to cry. The mother tried to hush the child, and the ground continued to lurch.
What the hell? Is it an earthquake or something? When was the last ti—
My thoughts were interrupted by a shrill, detached female voice, and a blare that was all too familiar, cutting through my headphones straight to my mind:
"Attention citizens of New York. A Dungeon Gate has broken near 51st and Park Avenue. We ask that you stay calm and seek shelter in the nearest bunker. Do not panic. I repeat do not panic."
The people around me began screaming and yelling, launching into a crazed mob trying to leave the train car. I could only stand in place, frozen. Frozen as I was years ago. Helpless, only this time my mother wasn't holding my hand.
The entire memory I had tried to forget flashed in unbearable detail. My legs felt numb and my eyes looked past all the panicking faces in the subway.
That same feeling of shame I wished so hard would disappear, recurred, running deeper through my body than the shoulders and elbows digging into me. The weight of my dead mother that numbed my limbs 10 years ago held me in place.
My head spun as I remembered everything as it replayed, over and over. The memory pushed so far from my mind for the sake of my sanity now ran through every cell of my body. Tears welled and my breath ran short, and my eyes blinked quickly and I saw the old woman I had helped earlier, caught in the mob, trying to escape from the subway car.
I'm sorry, I cannot help. Once again, I cannot help. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm powerless.
The woman was shoved by a man in a suit, and I reached my hand to help instinctively, but my legs wouldn't move. The train was nearly empty, but I still couldn't help the poor woman.
I grunted, angry at my weakness. My mind flashed me images of my mother, almost warning me of what would happen to this woman. onIy, I couldn't move, or I wouldn't move, shame and fear binding me.
This is the same as ten years ago. She will die. She will die if I do nothing. She will die and I may as well have killed her.
I slapped myself, and tensed what felt like every muscle in my body, trying to stop shaking as I rose to my feet. I took a step towards her and reached my hand down to her. I was being bumped by the stampede of people but I refused to budge.
I will not go through this again.
"Here, grab my hand!" She grasped it, and I strained.
I refuse to go through this again.
I pulled her up and onto my shoulder, and paced quickly towards the door and I ducked out and the air was hot and smelled terrible on the platform.
The Manacules and the odor of the monsters mixed in my nose and made me feel faint but we continued through the sea of panicked civilians.
"Thank you young man," the woman told me in my ear. The words echoed in my head over the ear piercing sirens and screams.
Even if I die, I refuse to be powerless.
Each pace made me feel weaker, and I began trembling once again. The sound of the chaos began draining from the platform to above on the streets, and the hallways thinned of people.
As we walked, my mind repeatedly urged me to continue, flashing me recollections of my mothers corpse. We turned into a corridor and I spotted the sign for stairs above a hallway ahead to my left.
"We need to hurry, Miss," I urged, picking up my pace. However, she stopped walking, her eyes glued ahead, refusing to move.
"Come on we need to go!" I pleaded, but she still wouldn't move. I tried forcing her along, but failed.
How is she so strong? I wondered.
I looked at what she was fixated on and the dizziness I was feeling intensified.
Lycans. That's what got my mother. Act! I need to act!
My mind's eye kept recalling what the beasts did to my mother.
I unraveled the woman's arm from my shoulder, and peeked at the Lycans who were 20 feet ahead of me. They drooled and fixated on us. I took the lady in my arms and sprinted to the stairs, gently setting her down on her feet on the first step.
I'd rather die than be powerless.
"Go! Run!" She looked at me with scared and sad eyes. I replied with a smile, and faced the Lycans. "Now! run!"
I heard her footsteps, but couldn't look away from the terrifying wolf-like creatures. Blood darkened their coats and they smelled horribly. The three Lycans circled me, almost smiling at me as they growled.
I was scared. Unbelievably scared, and it made my head spin and my breath run short. I compensated strangely by letting out a very terrified chuckle.
"Well," I waved them towards me with my arms. "COME AND GET ME YOU MUTTS!"
Even under the weight of my mother, I will not die on my fucking knees.