The world ended not with a bang, but with a promise. A promise whispered from the stars in the year 2105, when an unidentified flying object, colossal and silent as a tomb, descended upon Earth.
From its vast maw emerged some aliens called the Vonites, a psionic species eerily human in their visage, bearing gifts and a grim plea. They claimed to hail from a technologically advanced empire engaged in a brutal interstellar war, and they sought an alliance.
Their offering was a revolutionary technology we now call… the 'Awakening Pill.'
It was capable of enhancing humanity, making us stronger, faster, more durable. A boon, they said, for a genetically fragile species like ours, the perfect candidates for their transformative science.
Humanity, still reeling from the sheer revelation of extraterrestrial life, let alone interstellar empires, readily agreed. The fear of being defenseless against any future alien dominion was a potent persuader.
The Vonites delivered on their end, showering Earth with advanced technology that propelled medicine, engineering, agriculture, and finance into new, unimaginable heights. In return, the human government, eager to secure their enhanced future, selected a first wave of subjects for the Awakening Pill.
The initial trials were catastrophic. Many soldiers, scientists and eager volunteers died in agonizing convulsions.
At first, the government were furious and confused. But the Vonites, ever so regretful, explained that the pill was more effective in the presence of existing physiological stress.
Specifically, a disease.
So, the government, desperate and ruthless, began infecting their subjects… from common colds to aggressive cancers. And of course, more deaths followed, more agony, more failures.
But the fucking government didn't quit. Instead, they turned to the fringes of society: criminals, homeless folks, the disabled and discarded souls living in the squalor of the slums, people whose disappearance would barely register a blip in the world's frantic pulse.
They were the perfect lab rats.
So with their new subjects, the government continued with their experiments. And finally, amidst the growing pile of nameless bodies and grotesque genetic mutations, a breakthrough occurred.
The first successful awakening.
The subject, once a normal human, erupted with incredible strength, terrifying durability, and an inexplicable ability, a power that defied all known physics and logic.
He was faster, stronger, and more resilient than any human had ever been.
After him, more successes followed, and the government finally unravelled the secret of the experiment: the Awakening Pill only worked if the host suffered from any neurological disorder.
This discovery marked a new, terrifying epoch for mankind. But that era was shortlived.
The government continued recruiting people that were incarcerated and incapacitated. They did this because they believed criminals would be much easier to control and discard.
But… boy were they in for a devastating surprise.
Per the alliance, the government prepared to dispatch these newly awakened individuals to fight the Vonites' war. But the first generation of awakened were not compliant.
Why would they be? They were criminals, low-lifes, scarred by a hellish gauntlet of forced disease, torturous experiments, and witnesses to the brutal deaths of their fellow test subjects. And of course, their gratitude was a poisoned chalice of rage.
They rebelled.
Imagine it… a bunch of hardened criminals were granted extraordinary abilities that not only made them powerful, but also invincible. They were unstoppable.
And although they were few, they possessed abilities akin to magic. Abilities that could tear through combat forces with ease. They flattened cities in minutes, and conquered nations like it was child's play.
And the government, even with all its conventional might, didn't stand a chance. They lost to the awakened.
And in a span of weeks, the world was literally taken over by supervillains. It was like watching a superhero movie unfold… only this wasn't a movie. This was very real.
The awakened seized control, becoming Earth's new, villainous overlords. They mastered the pill's creation, severed ties with the bewildered Vonites after plundering their advanced technology, and remade the world in their image.
It was a dystopian nightmare sprung to life, the wild imaginings of comic books made horrifically real. Supervillains, truly born, now ruled, and there were no heroes to stop them. Just weak, terrified humans with no way to fight back.
It was either submit, or die.
Countries dissolved, their borders erased. Continents were broken down, merged and carved into ten sprawling Districts… each one an empire ruled by an Awakened crime lord, their power absolute.
Cities became fiefdoms of powerful gangs, and martial law, a constant, suffocating blanket, descended upon the globe. Slavery, overt and brutal, became the new norm. Obedience was life; defiance was death.
The world's armed forces were disbanded, their remnants restructured into a single, terrifying instrumentality called the Garrison, a mercenary army paid to enforce the whims of the new rulers.
These criminal potentates controlled the distribution of the Awakening Pill, ensuring it only went to their most loyal servants, cementing their power. The vast majority of humanity became slaves, their purpose reduced to generating wealth for their masters through exorbitant taxes and endless labor. Laws were draconian, often punishable by immediate execution.
And unsurprisingly, crime became an aspiration. Robbery, murder, territorial skirmishes… these were not just tolerated, but often celebrated, especially if one could secure a place in a gang, gain access to advanced weaponry, and perhaps, just perhaps, earn a coveted Awakening Pill.
Yet, even criminals understood the need for a semblance of order, a twisted hierarchy to perpetuate hope and drive productivity. They established a tiered city system. Each of the ten Districts contained cities graded from 1st to 4th tier, and they were governed by treacherous gangs and criminals factions.
This tier system, a cruel mockery of progress, ensured the world's hierarchy remained firmly in place. The rich grew richer, the powerful more absolute, and the hope for change, a fragile ember, struggled to survive in a world where the rulers of districts and cities alike were hardened criminal masterminds.
It had been ten years since the uprising, ten years since the world had been cleaved in two: the few who ruled with god-like power, and the many who merely survived.
Liam Queen was part of the latter.
He was someone who knew the history, not from textbooks… but from the hushed whispers of his parents before they were taken away, and later, from the bitter cynicism of older orphans.
His parents had been scientists, working with the government on the awakening project. They were good people, or at least he thought so. Then one day the criminals rose, and good people didn't matter anymore. His parents were executed for their knowledge, their bodies dumped in the streets. Liam and Lila were thrown into the orphanage, just two more mouths to feed in a world that didn't care if they lived or died.
Now, at eighteen, Liam and his sister resided in a cramped apartment in Clovis. A small city in District 2… the salvage of what was left of North America, a splintered mosaic of what was once the USA, Mexico, and Canada.
The apartment, a meager two room residence, had been Liam's 'orphan reimbursement strategy' from the government when he turned sixteen. A pathetic pittance, and a way to show their'kindness' to children.
Life outside the orphanage had been a cruel awakening. Clovis, a Third Tier city, was a labyrinth of crumbling facades and flickering neon, where every shadow held a potential threat.
And for a scrawny, unspectacular boy with no parents, no connections, and no discernible strength, it was a daily gauntlet.
Liam felt the weight of it all pressing down, a constant, suffocating pressure. He had to work multiple jobs so he and Lila could survive. His hands, perpetually chapped and calloused, ached from the incessant labor.
School offered a fleeting reprieve, a scholarship from middle school buying him free tuition at Clovis High. A bitter irony, considering he was bullied occasionally for it.
Liam had no friends. No allies, except for his sister. She was the only person in the world he cared about. She was all he had.
Sometimes, in the dead of night, curled on his thin mattress, Liam would wish for an end. A release from the endless grind, the constant fear, the gnawing anxiety. But then Lila's innocent, face would materialize in his mind, and the thought would dissipate, replaced by a surge of fierce, protective warmth. He couldn't leave her. Not now, not ever. She was his anchor, his reason for enduring.
The world outside their small apartment, outside the crumbling walls of Clovis, was a dangerous, unforgiving place, where the only path to power seemed paved with blood and awakened abilities. And Liam, with his fragile frame and unwavering moral compass, knew he was ill-equipped for either.
But he still pushed on, determined and always willing to do whatever it takes to survive in the harsh and cruel world.
...…..
It was raining that night… the night where everything changed.
The streets of Clovis smelled like rust and petrichor. Liam pulled his hood tighter as he threaded through the shadows, his boots splashing through shallow puddles of dirty water. Neon signs flickered above—half-broken, buzzing, advertising bars, pawnshops, and brothels he had no money for.
The streets were quieter than usual tonight, which only made him more uneasy. Quiet streets in Clovis meant someone dangerous was nearby.
He carried a bag slung over his shoulder… one of his many jobs done for the night. He worked part-time at a mechanic's shop, cleaned dishes at a diner when he could, and on weekends hauled crates at the docks. None of it was enough, not really, but it kept food on the table for him and Lila.
Liam despised this life. Not just the exhaustion, but the crawling helplessness of it all. He remembered when he was a boy, before the uprising, when the world had rules. When it wasn't dictated by gangs and criminal factions.
He passed a gang patrol lounging in the shed of a corner store. Three men in leather jackets, cigarettes glowing like fireflies. They laughed too loud, their eyes following him with that predator's gleam. Liam kept his head down. He knew better than to meet their gaze.
One of them whistled. "Look at this rat," the thug jeered. "Out late in the rain. You got a death wish, kid?"
Liam didn't answer. He gritted his teeth, kept walking, kept breathing. One block. Just one block more and he'd be near home.
The laughter followed him like a knife to the back.
Liam tightened his jaw as he walked away. He hated them. He hated them all. The gangs. The factions. The so-called rulers in their glass towers. Monsters wearing crowns.
He hated the system this world had become. Some nights, he lay awake and thought about killing them all, tearing the whole rotten thing down. But when morning came, he'd look at the mirror and realize it was a fool's dream. He was a nobody, he wasn't strong and he had no financial backing.
Going against the government would only get him crucified and dismembered. He couldn't take that kind of risk. Not when he still had a sister depending on him.
So all he could do was endure. Because he was weak. And the thought always tasted bitter on his tongue.
The rain fell harder, soaking through his thin jacket. Liam shoved his hands into his pockets and quickened his pace. He just wanted to get home, lock the door, and hear his sister's soft voice telling him about the book she'd been reading.
But fate didn't care what Liam wanted. It had other plans for him.
As Liam pulled into the half-lit mouth of an alley, he heard it: a muffled cry. Female. Sharp, and desperate. His stomach twisted instantly.
He froze. The sound of boots scuffing against wet pavement followed, then laughter… low, hungry, cruel.
Liam's pulse kicked into his throat. He should've kept walking. In Clovis, you survived by ignoring what you heard in alleys. But his legs betrayed him, dragging him closer. His heart hammered with every step until he reached the corner and peeked around.
Liam's eyes widened as the scene unfolded… A girl that looked his age was cornered by three thugs. One held her wrists pinned against the wall. Another dangled a knife lazily, the edge glinting under the broken neon light. The third just watched, grinning, hunger painted across his scarred face.
The men were clearly members of one of the many gangs that plagued Clovis. Only people that belonged to gangs had the boldness and depravity of doing such a thing to an innocent girl.
Liam's eyes landed on the girl. She was terrified, her clothes torn, her body trembling. Her voice broke again, pleading as the thug's knife traced down her cheek.
Liam's hands clenched into fists. His body screamed at him to run, to stay out of it. But the girl's whimpers escalated into a choked sob, as tears streamed down her face.
She was afraid, just like his sister would be if this ever happened to her.
And in that moment, something in Liam snapped.
He'd been powerless his whole life, but right now, watching that scene, he couldn't do nothing.
Not tonight.
Without thinking, he stepped forward, voice shaky but sharp. "Hey!" he voiced out, calling the attention of the thugs.
"Let her go!"