Scene 1 – Mr. House Awakens
The junkyard had been silent for hours.
Trayvon hadn't moved much—not out of fear, but focus. The MFSS interface hovered in his vision, a glassy overlay that shifted when he blinked or thought too hard.
> [Starter Pack One: Sealed]
[Advisory: World instability increasing. Summoning Core dormant. Access recommended.]
He looked down at the sleek black bag beside him, the sigil still pulsing faintly. His fingers hovered over the first latch.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see what divine accident insurance looks like."
Click.
The latch snapped open, and a pulse of light shimmered outward.
From inside, carefully arranged in a foam casing:
Three Bronze-tier Summoning Tokens — smooth, coppery discs etched with symbols
Two Silver-tier Summoning Tokens — denser, cold to the touch
A compact survival satchel filled with multi-denomination cash (some bills not even from Earth)
A sleek collapsible baton-sword hybrid, matte black with a red-etched edge
A sealed capsule marked: "SKILL MODULES – BASIC"
> [Skill Package Detected.]
"Installing baseline proficiencies: Emergency Medical Training, Culinary Utility, Johnny Cage Combat Style (Modified)."
Trayvon's muscles twitched. His brain sparked—not painful, but fast. Like being plugged into a forgotten part of himself.
He stood. Eyes sharper. Fingers steadier. Body more ready than it had any right to be.
> "Combat instincts calibrated. You're now certified to cook, heal, and punch throats through people. Congratulations."
Trayvon (smirking):
"Alright. You definitely need a name."
The AI flickered, waiting.
Trayvon:
"You talk like you own a casino and shoot people in the desert. Let's go with... Mr. House."
> "Acceptable. Mr. House it is."
[Personality calibration adjusting...]
The voice became smoother, a touch more menacingly calm.
> "Let's build an empire, shall we?"
Trayvon stepped toward the edge of the tree line, bronze tokens warm in his hand.
> [Summoning Core Active.]
[Bronze Tokens available for immediate use.]
The road ahead was still.
But the world wasn't waiting.
Scene 2 – Calibrations and Companions
The air was still heavy with morning heat. Somewhere off in the trees, a cicada buzzed like it had something to prove.
Trayvon stood alone in the middle of the clearing, breathing steady, fists clenched at his sides. His muscles didn't feel like his anymore. They were sharper. Leaner. Efficient.
He dropped into a stance—low, controlled, instinctual.
And moved.
A fluid snap of his elbow. A spinning heel turn into a low kick. A quick jab-jab-fake followed by a flashy yet weirdly practical uppercut. There was a rhythm to it—theatrics fused with violence.
Johnny Cage style. No doubt.
> "Knee placement 4% too wide. Adjust."
"And while that flourish was charming, I remind you this is not Mortal Kombat Live."
Trayvon (panting slightly):
"You always this critical, or is this just part of your welcome tour?"
> *"I am the voice of precision. You, sir, are the avatar of chaos. It is a delicate relationship we're cultivating."
Trayvon rolled his shoulders, grinning.
He wasn't used to feeling... competent. Not like this.
Medical knowledge ticked in his head like a side menu. He could visualize how to wrap a chest wound or stabilize a broken leg with a belt and some duct tape. And when he thought about cooking, actual recipe data popped into his mind like a pop-up ad from a classy food blog.
He knelt down beside his bag of holding satchel, the symbol still pulsing gently.
"Alright, let's see what else you gave me."
He reached inside—and the space was deeper than it looked.
Much deeper.
His hand passed through fabric and found steel. Leather. Plastic. Everything inside was organized by type, weightless and cataloged by the system.
> [Bag of Holding Interface Activated.]
[Contents: 1,214 categorized objects. Origin tags: Multiversal / Survivalist / Tactical / Miscellaneous.]
"Jesus."
> "Incorrect universe. Shall I break it down for you?"
Trayvon (snorting):
"Please do, Mr. House. Let's see what my cosmic loot box includes."
The air shimmered, and a glowing menu unfurled in his vision:
[Tactical Gear] – flares, signal mirror, fire starters, utility blade, zip ties
[Rations] – sealed protein bars, nutrient packs, water purification tabs
[Currency] – $500 in mixed bills, three gold coins marked with foreign runes, and... bottle caps?
[Clothing] – thermal jacket, fingerless gloves, tactical scarf
[Mystery Slot – Locked]
Trayvon raised an eyebrow at that last one.
Trayvon:
"And the bottle caps?"
> *"Fallout universe. Decorative. Economically unpredictable."
Trayvon smirked again.
"I like you, Mr. House."
> *"Naturally."
He zipped the bag closed, mind already spinning with next steps.
He had gear. He had time.
But something told him the world wouldn't stay this quiet for long.
And his tokens—three bronze, two silver—were burning a metaphorical hole in his pocket.
Scene 3 Then there was two
The junkyard sat like a forgotten memory at the edge of a breathing world.
Trayvon stood alone—dirt on his boots, sky dimming, sweat drying against his neck. The skyline in the distance still shined like nothing was wrong.
But everything was.
> [Time Remaining: 13 Days, 18 Hours, 03 Minutes.]
> [System Update: Countdown complete. Timeline shift beginning.]
[The outbreak has begun.]
A breeze passed.
But something in it had changed.
The air felt thinner. Edges sharper. Like the world itself had noticed him now.
Trayvon (quietly):
"So this is it…"
> Mr. House (somber, cool):
"Indeed. You are no longer early. You are now present. History bends from this point forward, and you—Trayvon Phillips—are the crack in the glass."
Trayvon's jaw tightened. He reached into the satchel and pulled out the first coin.
Summon One: Multiversal Item – Kurogane's Folding Blade
> [Summoning Token Activated – Bronze Tier: ITEM]
> [Pull: "Kurogane's Folding Blade" – Origin: Universe C-432A]
A pulse of energy snapped through the air. A katana-length, obsidian-edged weapon materialized in his grip—sleek, foldable, sharp enough to hum. He flicked it open and sliced once through the air.
Silent. Clean. Efficient.
Trayvon:
"Weapon locked."
> Mr. House (dry):
"Well… we've got edge. Now let's see if you can cut through fate."
Summon Two: Skill – Shadowstep (Basic Variant)
Trayvon didn't wait. He grabbed the second token and pressed it to his chest.
> [Summoning Token Activated – Bronze Tier: SKILL]
[Skill Acquired: Shadowstep – Basic Variant]
[Effect: 15ft directional blink | Silent | No light trail | Cooldown: 7 seconds]
A surge of energy snapped through his nerves—muscle memory unlocking, vision briefly distorting. He focused on the roof of a nearby wrecked truck.
Blink.
He vanished.
Reappeared standing on the roof. Solid. Still. Empowered.
> Mr. House (pleased):
"You now possess one of the oldest powers in fiction: the art of not being where your enemy expects."
Trayvon (grinning):
"Let's make that a habit."
Summon Three: Character – S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent Jake Ramirez
The third and final coin was warm. Restless.
He let the world settle around him one last time.
Then activated it.
> [Summoning Token Activated – Bronze Tier: CHARACTER]
[Summoning…]
[Subject Acquired: Agent Jake Ramirez – Tactical Specialist | Earth-TV-9834 | S.H.I.E.L.D. Division]
Golden light tore a seam through the space beside him—and a man dropped into a crouch, sidearm half-drawn, eyes wild.
Jake Ramirez blinked. "Where the hell am I?"
Trayvon stepped forward. "Safe. Sort of."
Jake scanned him, then the skyline, then the ruins around them. He didn't lower his weapon, but he didn't fire.
> Mr. House (calm):
"Agent Ramirez. Welcome to a universe where the dead don't stay down, the living eat each other, and your only advantage is being on the same team as a multiversal rogue."
Jake raised an eyebrow.
"...That's a hell of a greeting."
Trayvon:
"You'll get used to it."
> [Summon Bond: Stable]
[Command Structure: Active]
[Memory Integrity: Retained]
[Shared Objectives Will Be Generated Dynamically]
> [Warning: Initial Infected Event has occurred in Downtown Atlanta.]
[First responders en route. Infection misdiagnosed as violent psychosis. Fatality count: rising.]
The screen faded, and silence crept back in. But it wasn't the same.
Trayvon felt it now—under his skin, behind his eyes.
The world was unraveling.
And this junkyard?
This forgotten, rusted grave of machines?
It was the place the first ripple began.
Trayvon looked at Ramirez.
Trayvon:
"Get your head straight, Agent. Apocalypse starts today."
Scene 4 – She Who Survives
The junkyard felt different now.
Not louder. Not brighter. Just... heavier.
Something had changed the moment Ramirez stepped through that golden seam. Reality knew Trayvon wasn't alone anymore—and it was listening.
The agent stood nearby, watching him with trained stillness. Tactical. Alert.
Trayvon called up the System.
> [Summon Analysis: Initiated]
[Subject: Agent Jake Ramirez]
[Tier: Bronze] | [Role: Tactical Support / Firearms Expert / S.H.I.E.L.D. Variant]
Skill Tree Highlights:
– Proficiency: Ballistics, Stealth Recon, Crowd Control
– Passive Buff: +15% accuracy to all nearby allies
– Field Upgrade: Tactical Reinforcement (Call-in ability, cooldown: locked until Safe Zone expands)
Inventory:
– Semi-auto sidearm (12 rounds)
– Custom S.H.I.E.L.D. body armor
– EMP mini-charge (1x)
– Foldable binoculars
Loyalty: Bound | Relationship Path: Trust-Building (Low)
Trayvon (to Mr. House):
"Guy's built like a walking survival manual."
> Mr. House:
"And unlike most Bronze pulls, he's not quipping or panicking. I approve."
Trayvon nodded to Ramirez. "You good?"
Jake:
"Good enough. Got my sidearm, got cover, got questions. But I've dropped into worse."
Trayvon (grinning):
"Let's make it weirder then."
The Silver Coin
He reached into his satchel and pulled the first Silver-tier Summoning Token. It thrummed in his palm like a warning.
Not a game anymore.
> [Summoning Token Activated – SILVER Tier: CHARACTER]
[Multiversal Alignment: Horror-Action Class Detected]
[Signature Pull: Alice – Project ALICE / Umbrella Universe Variant | Tier: Silver+]
Lightning cracked the sky—just once—and from the air itself, reality tore like paper.
A woman dropped to one knee, hand on the ground, body tense.
Combat boots. Blood-stained tank top. Machete sheathed along her back. Eyes that had seen cities burn.
Alice.
Her gaze met Trayvon's with suspicion—but she didn't reach for her weapon.
Alice:
"…This isn't Raccoon City."
Trayvon (calm):
"It's worse. But you're not alone."
> [Summon Bond: Incomplete – Adaptive Personality Detected]
[Initial Loyalty: Conditional – Test Pending]
[Skill Set: Enhanced Reflexes, Bio-Combat Efficiency, Viral Resistance, Dual Wield Proficiency]
Unique Trait: Red Queen's Ghost – Alice can detect bio-contaminants within a 100ft radius. Passive.]
Unlockable Path: Umbrella Breaker (Summon Evolution Quest)
> Mr. House (whispers in delight):
"Now we're talking. You've summoned a protagonist. A chaos engine. A survivor queen."
Alice stood slowly, eyes narrowing toward the skyline.
Alice:
"…It's started, hasn't it?"
Trayvon (quietly):
"Yeah. And we've got thirteen days to rewrite it."
END OF CHAPTER TWO
Now you've got:
A folding katana
Shadowstep
Agent Jake Ramirez (Bronze)
Alice (Silver)
The apocalypse officially underway