As I stand in front of the door, I contemplate my life choices.

What possibly possessed me to go down into the city crypt? I mean, sure, it's cool to even have a city crypt, but nobody else really goes down here, right? If that's true, though, why is there a huge, intricately carved wrought iron door at the end of the longest passageway, and why is the handle so clean when the rest of the place is so dusty? Almost as if it has been used recently. Spiderwebs and mold cling to the walls, and the two carved snakes seem to blink as I hold up my phone's flashlight. A notification that I have no GPS floats at the top of my screen, and I fight off a shiver as I realize nobody would be able to find me if I disappeared down here.

I push open the door, and it opens silently and smoothly, further evidence that this door is not as decrepit as it may seem at first glance. I gasp as I step beyond the threshold. A huge necropolis, sunken into the ground, sprawls with twisting pathways, buildings made of bone, and lampposts made of the spines of some long-dead leviathan.

A black flock of the holy birds

Shall fly in a cloud overhead

Their wings shall split the world into thirds

And summon the blades of the dead.

-Prophecy of the Before

Chapter One: Murmur

The Mars complex was tall, black, and shiny. It was probably as tall as forty space Transports stacked up end to end, a maze of interlocking buildings covering the surface of the planet like a massive pixelated spider web, and as black as obsidian. But, of course, it wasn’t obsidian. Earth’s supply had been used in the last Blackbirds, the flying autonomous drones that floated through the air with the deadly malice of their evil creators, hunting the Starflights, the genetically modified birds with the power of speech that were worshipped in so many parts of the world.

Our main characters are slowly approaching the marvel of engineering. Shadows flit across the landscape, made from small air taxies moving as quickly as dragonflies.

Ex, a tall boy with a ponytail of dark brown hair, green eyes, and wearing armor and a helmet - the color so black that light was sucked into it - with glowing orange circuitry and a visor, walked into the cockpit of a cloaked Dragonfly X1 class fighter.

"Jay, engage the autopilot and come with me."

Jay, wearing metallic blue armor, flicked a button.

A voice played over the speakers hidden in the walls.

"Autopilot engaged."

The fighter slowed as it reached the surface, the only sign of its existence the puff of red dust that was kicked up as the thrusters neared the ground.

Rotating their hands in a clockwise motion on their chests, Ex and Jay turned on their comms and stepped out. 

A burst of static filled their ears and slowly was tuned to a recognizable voice.

"Hey, Ex," said the voice of Ao as she walked towards them, wearing a deep green suit of armor.

"What about me?" asked Jay.

"I knew you were there, I just ignored you."

Jay walked away.

"So, Ex, you ready for the mission?"

"Yeah, this isn't my first job like this, ya know."

"I know. Do you have all of the supplies?"

"Yeah, I got my ship, my energy bullets, everything."

"Ok. I just wanted to know that you have no hesitation about what you are about to do."

"Ao, they hunt the Starflights! I have no problem going and destroying the Blackbirds mainframe."

"You know it might escalate from that, Ex."

Ex nodded and thought about the real purpose of his mission - to eliminate the men who started this nightmare.

"I do."

"Perfect," Ao said.

"Yo, Jay! Come on, get in the ship!"

Jay walked across the red dust as it swirled around his feet, like living flames.

"Fine."

The Dragonfly sped away from the red planet, invisible to all save a cloaked stranger.

"Jay, you're really crushing on Ao," Stated Ex, floating in a cross-legged position within a sphere of floating holographic screens, steering the ship while at the same time hacking the radar of nearby ships so that they wouldn't be detected.

A lone ship, as dark as the vacuum of space followed them, none aware of it.

"No, I am not!" replied Jay, as indignantly as possible.

"Jay, it's okay. Every boy in the resistance has a crush on him"

"Even you?"

Ex lowered his head.

Jay, realizing that this topic was hard for him, stopped.

"That is, until they realize that nothing will ever come of it," replied Ex, sounding resigned.

"But-"

"Go into the other room!" yelled Ex.

Jay backed off.

Back in the cabin, Ex slumped and whispered to himself. He was so engaged in this that he didn't realize the slow beeping indicating an incoming vessel.

Beep... Beep... Beep....

The quiet fsshh of an airlock opening broke the silence.

Ex switched on the autopilot and went to see what was happening. He went to grab an air tank, then remembered that they were low on them and would have to get them at the next spaceport. He hoped that whoever was visiting was wearing some kind of protected gear like his armor, or else they would freeze, and a whole bunch of other terrible fates. The door to the room where the tanks were stored was slightly ajar. Opening it fully, Ex extended his hand for one, then realized they were all gone. The last one was taken, which meant...

"Jay!" he screamed as he rushed towards the door to space.

There he was, untethered in space, with an air tank to last 15 minutes. Laying in the nothingness, eyes closed, arms floating by his sides.

Panicking, Ex threw a rope to Jay, who just lied there, not even trying. Ex quickly tethered himself to the ship and jumped out. His emergency air supply in his visor was keeping him alive, but it was quickly running out. He grabbed Jay with one hand, reeling in the rope, and suddenly noticed the ship behind them as it opened fire.

Ex realized he would have to cut the rope.

Red filled his vision. His oxygen was running low. As he sawed through the rope, he realized that this would be the last action of his life. Black spots danced in his vision like angels of death.

Ex slowly opened his eyes. Nothing in front, Nothing behind. Suddenly, lights turned on, his eyes burning from the sudden change in brightness. He realized Jay was lying beside him, his eyes not yet open. Getting up, he surveyed his surroundings. No furniture, no windows, nothing except the white walls and the lights. Jay groaned and opened his eyes too, then, seeing Ex, lept to his feet.

"Why would you do that?" Ex yelled, tears streaking down his face. 

Jay stepped back, scared.

Then, Ex witnessed him unravel into a seemingly endless stream of ones and zeros.

As the last binary digit floated off and disappeared, a voice came over the speakers.

"Your friend is alive," it said, "he is undergoing surgery."

"Who are you?"

"I am the all-seeing, the watcher."

"Well then."

-Kshhhhhht-Bzzt- Is this thing on? Sorry if my voice buzzes. I’m wearing an electronic gas mask that sounds like a beehive. Here we go.

I walked off of the beach into a lake of lava.

Yep, lava.

It was hot, to state the obvious. I jumped into the canoe, made of fortisium, the metal that had been discovered 28 years ago, in 2021. It was now the world’s most rare and valuable substance, and it had taken over the metal industry. The way our textbooks told it, an asteroid had “suddenly crashed to earth” and “an explosion of massive proportions took place” that “annihilated half of the planet.” 

My friends jumped in after me, in gas masks for the fumes that have been emitted from the factories creating chemicals to clone humans. We have one year until the end of the world. 

We found the boat a month ago and kept it secret. It was worth so many eCoins that we could have bought Africa, but we wanted to keep it because we were now the only people in the world that could boat because all of the oceans had either evaporated, been colonized, or had been filled with waste. We took the only available opportunity, in the most active volcano in the world - Mount Kronos. 

Suddenly, an energy storm appeared on the horizon. Have you ever seen a hurricane? I haven't, but I have heard about them. Energy storms are like taking hurricanes, combining them with nukes, feeding them beef, broccoli, and bean burritos for three years, and then stuffing them in your old jacket, folding it up, and fermenting it for ten months, times one hundred. In short, we were screwed. The sun became even hazier, as if hiding. We paddled as fast as we could, but the stirring mass of magma stopped us from reaching the edge before the storm hit.

Crash!

The first lightning bolt sounded like when you drop your Nintendo Switch in the middle of the night while your mom is sleeping.

Nobody else was on the lava lake, and no one else had been for 10 years, or ever. It was so active that it erupted every few days, and it was impossible to predict its next eruption.

Waves of magma crashed next to the boat, spraying us with burning shards of molten rock, so hot that our bodies went numb from pain. The boat was starting to fill up, and we scooped it up with our masks. It was a risky maneuver, but it was better than using our bare hands

And suddenly, the storm passed.

Now, this was actually bad. Hurricanes have an eye of the storm. Energy storms are like Argus, the ancient greek monster with a hundred eyes. If you suddenly are in a calm spot, it means that the worst is yet to come. Pictures from above energy storms, which are rare because of the danger of the beams of lightning, show a large honeycomb-like cloud structure, with tessellating spirals of lightning. Suddenly, a new bolt struck the lake, and it started raging again. Our boat flipped out of the crater, and we started sliding down the mountain, towards the cabin. To either side, bolts of energy touched down, narrowly missing us as our boat continued its terrifying descent down the rocks.

The End...?

The woman looked, with eyes squinting, out of the door. Satisfied, she hobbled out of her house, locked the eight locks on her door, and shuffled down the street. It was a dreary, gray afternoon, one of the worst she had seen in her life, and she had seen a LOT of dreary afternoons. It was also a Monday afternoon, which nobody liked, including her. She was in a red trench coat and a black dress, with black boots, a walking stick that looked like a candy cane, and a black purse. From the purse, she pulled a top hat with green shamrocks and sparkles and put it on her head. 

“Wait, wrong hat,” she said and pulled out a bowler hat with a rim so large it covered her eyes. She continued to hobble down the sidewalk. Discreetly, so that no one saw her, she climbed a tree (failing a couple of times) and then knocked 6 times on the biggest branch. The nest of leaves folded up and she shot down a tube underground. This was a serious time, so she couldn’t be seen with a St. Patrick’s day hat. She put the bowler hat back into her purse and pulled out a bagel. She thoughtfully chewed it as she walked down to her office and sat down at her desk. There was a little bell sitting on the table, so she slammed her frail-looking hand down on the top and shattered it, making a very off-tune ding! A man in a brown trenchcoat, with a brown paper bag in his hand, came in and whispered secretly behind his hand, “I got you a bagel.”

“Well, thank you! I just had one, though.”

“Ssh, ssh, keep your voice down!” he quietly whispered, moving his hands in a weird up and down motion while hunched over with his arms bent using his hands, so he looked like a demented duck that was trying to lower the worlds volume levels.

“Why?” she inquired, just as loudly as before, if not louder.

The man made a strained face and massaged his temples. “Because I say so!"

“Why?”

“Ok, fine, I’ll tell you if you stop.”

“Don't tell me what to do, I’m your boss.”

The strained face got more strained.

“Why are you squinting?”

The squint got squintier.

One night, walking home from my job as a door-to-door salesman selling life insurance, I heard a call. Now, most people don't think that the ruler of the underworld would have such a monotonous job, or would be walking around on their streets, but hey, the pay in Hell sucks, and all the people there are, quite literally, the worst. And really, do you know anyone worse than the life insurance guy? I mean, really, a deal with the devil might not be a good idea, but buying something from a stranger is worse. Plus, I got a ton of money, and as long as they paid, they got to live longer. Win-win, am I right? Now, back to the plot - I have a job to do, of course. The call came from pretty far away, so I realized that going there was going to be a bit of a pain. I walked for about six hours to see a young man tap dancing while playing the banjo. Oh, goodness, he was going down as soon as he turned sixty. I walked up to him, and he stopped tap dancing to give me a once-over. Then he pointed behind him. I saw a dark doorway and a hallway that immediately turned left. I walked in, and came to a large foyer. In the middle was a carpet, with a large, pentagon-shaped table that had a 5-pointed star carved on it and the numbers "six hundred sixty six" painted on the walls. Around the table were five chairs, a bunch of candles long since burned out, and for some reason a large amount of blueberries covered in salt. These people had gone a little overboard and obviously had no idea what they were doing.