[Warning: this story is packed with some pretty horrible things that might be slightly disturbing. I just thought I’d say a preemptive “fuck off”, rather than wait until after I’ve pissed all over your padded worldviews.]

Introduction

Why is everything so goddamn boring? Yeah, that’s my hook. Suck it, Shakespeare, I’m relating to the dissatisfied hordes of socially (and sexually) repressed losers of the twenty-first century. Here, we have three levels of storyselling:

Nothing is impossible (when you’re the main character) Trust your heart (because your brain knows better than to buy what we’re selling) Everything has meaning (but only in fairyland; you humans can all go to hell)

If this is what you long for, look elsewhere. I’m not the good guy; I’m not deep; and I’m certainly not a badass—but you know what? Neither is anyone else. Why do you think unrealistic stories are in such high demand? Because every single one of us is an incapable little turd of an existence that spends every day desperately trying to survive this shithole planet.

Value, purpose, and structure are manufactured, not discovered or inherited. Our beliefs are (to a certain degree) unrealistic, and every happy moment or beautiful sadness you’ve ever felt can be explained with science. How do you feel right now? Angry? Fired up? Bored? That’s all fake. Does no one like you? Guess what? The universe doesn’t even know they exist.

There, I think you’re sufficiently prepared for my story. Had it been titled by me, I would’ve named it “Some Guy Gets His Ass Kicked”, featuring: His Nihilistic Internal Narrative, but the author actually wants people to READ this for some reason. Well, you know what I say, Mr. Author? People don’t always like it when you put excessive language into stories right from the start, because “bad words” bring up emotion that should be sustained in order to hold their attention. So… fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-

Chapter One

…I got nothin'

Aliens invaded. My poor, deluded homeworld was caught completely off-guard but survived with little more than four or five hundred million casualties. The “battle” itself was brief and probably regarded as the event which united our world against a common enemy… whom we promptly ker-ploded with about fifty nuclear bombs. The chaos picked up speed when American civilians were irradiated, and massive chunks of red-hot debris obliterated their homeland.

Everything I had ever known died that day, and I watched it happen. Protected only by a genetic anomaly or some other lame excuse, I stood in the street and watched people melt. The clothes on my back disintegrated, but at that point there was no one to hide from, so I just sat down and waited to die. Of course, I never did.

This is where I am now, about eighty or ninety days later. Buck-ass nude and sitting, half buried in still cooling ashes. I haven’t eaten, though I’m incredibly hungry; I haven’t slept even though my eyelids are heavy; I’m in constant pain but have absolutely no injuries. I’ve heard of people with almost supernatural abilities, but they were nothing compared to this. I can’t die.

Again, I scanned the familiar landscape as nightmarish memories danced like ghosts near the edges of my vision, disappearing before I could see them properly. I doubt any Eastern countries were hit this bad, since the alien fleet was oriented over the Americas, but it doesn’t really matter either way. In these months of isolation, I’ve decided to keep away from humanity to avoid becoming an experiment. It’s selfish, but I really don’t care.

I stood, allowing the sheets of dust to fall away and reveal my corpse-like frame to the emptiness surrounding me. The layers of ash that filled the air were suffocating, though I had already adapted to pain and was able to begin dizzily shuffling around. I swallowed each tasteless breath, wading through mutilated chunks of radioactive garbage without any real direction. I don’t know where to go, but maybe I’ll find out when I get there.

I hated my life. I hated the god damned systems, the people who “believed” in them, and my inability to just accept it all. Unless I played by society’s rules, everything would be stripped away. There was so much that I had to do, but I refused to do any more than was required. Everyone around me was motivated to do… something while I could only watch in awe of their happiness, wishing to be freed from the cycle. However, now that everything has been stripped away, I’m freer than anyone has ever been. I can do whatever I want. So… what do I want to do?

*B-bm*

My foot struck something dense and, more importantly, hollow. I looked down but was unable to even discern my foot from the surrounding debris. I crouched, brushing aside what I could until a smooth gray surface became visible. Its metallic structure appeared to be decently uniform, save for a single blinking light that flashed a weirdly emergent symbol repeatedly. Could this be from one of the alien ships?

Intrigued, I dug a little further. I was a bit weaker than usual, since I hadn’t eaten or slept in quite a while, but that didn’t stop the onslaught of theories as to what cargo might lie inside. Maybe some valuable alien technology or food rations of another world that I could eat… just at the thought, my stomach released an audible groan. No use in being unduly miserable. Nothing matters, so who gives a shit if I want to eat?

Just when my hand haphazardly slid across the little green light, a soft beep sounded. After a few unsettling clicks, the vessel’s door swung open violently and catapulted my confused ass about thirty feet away, where I disappeared into a particularly large pile of ash. Naturally, I was not idle for very long, and threw all caution to the wind as nothing but food permeated my mind. I scrambled straight out of the irritating mound and froze.

Aliens are pretty big. Judging from the identifying banner hanging from its waist, not to mention the full set of customized space-armor and badass laser-broadsword, I’d say they were pretty accustomed to war as well. Fortunately, it seemed to be just as surprised as myself to find another living being in this wasteland, so I was able to stare at it for quite a bit longer.

The extraterrestrial being’s anatomy followed the basic humanoid structure, a ‘coincidence’ that might need to be explored in more detail later, but it currently stood a solid fifteen feet tall despite its excessively hunched back. The skin was smooth, like humans’, and I’m willing to bet its organs were in the same general locations as ours, too. But, before I jump to any conclusions, maybe there is no need to fight. I have nothing against its existence on this planet, if its willing to grant me the same liberty.

Slowly, I raised my hands up in the air, signaling that I was unarmed (in case its race followed an honor-based religion or society) and had no desire to fight. In return, it brought a massive fucking laser-sword down on my head, which burned like hell and slammed me into the ground with enough force to create a small shockwave.

I like to think of myself as a fair and patient person, but after wrenching my skull out of the exposed sewer line, I had every intention to kill that thing. I don’t know how yet, but like I said… I’m patient. Also, I really want to get my hands on that sword and armor, not to mention whatever else might be in that pod. After three months of stagnation, I’ve got a little steam I need to release anyway.

A small, sharp portion of the previously mentioned pipeline stuck out, erect in the charred dirt and just waiting to become a weapon. I easily pulled it free and stood up yet again to face this new foe, that was… busy digging through its pod. Apparently, it assumed I would die with no more than one hit, which, since I am squishy, naked, and unarmed, is entirely understandable.

Now, let’s see if I remember human anatomy correctly… seeing as how only its head and neck are exposed, my target will have to be one of those two. The eyes are obvious but difficult targets, and its skull is probably too thick for something this dull to penetrate. If its anatomy is anything like a human’s, then my best bet would probably be to stab randomly at its neck (especially the front) until it stops moving. Yeah, that seems like a promising plan.

The alien bent even over even further, gradually becoming more frustrated in its search for a mysterious object and offering me an opening. If I jump onto its back and cling to the armor’s neckpiece, the severe hunch should inhibit my opponent’s ability to reach me. If I’m granted a few seconds of chaos, I might be able to take it down (or at least give it a handicap). Otherwise, I’ll probably be repeatedly raked into the earth with a hundred-pound lightsaber.

I took a moment to scrape together a sufficient amount of courage, then locked eyes… with the… alien… oh shit, it noticed me. I guess I spent a little too much time in my own head, and-

My thoughts were interrupted by the giant foot, which beat me deeper and deeper into the dense earth. I felt every grain of dirt and rusted metal edge tear at my flesh, not to mention the deafening pound of a foreign being hammering against my face and chest. The rough weapon was long gone, probably contorted beyond use. There’s no way something like me can compete with this… even if I can take a hit, I’m not strong enough to do any real damage. It’s painfully obvious, so… why is it still stomping on me?

The exhaustion, hunger, and immediate pain had put me in a delirious state of mind, and I couldn’t figure out why I was still being attacked. Doesn’t it think I’m dead by now? Unless… did I freak it out? No, this is a soldier—one who’s likely been through intense training and possibly a battle or two. Monsters like these don’t just get “freaked out”, not when discipline is the mark of a ‘good soldier’ (at least, in an organization developed enough to have ranks and superweapons). I scared the shit out of it.

The alien switched its attack strategy and was now wailing on my limp body with a sci-fi broadsword. Smoke polluted the air, so all I could make out was the blurred outline of my attacker’s weapon behind a fluid sea of darkness. Honestly, I just wanted everything to stop for a moment so I could think, but the waves of pain continuously racked my brain.

I’d like to reiterate that I’m typically a very rational person with few (if any) animalistic tendencies, and an appreciation for silence. Had I been entirely conscious, the following scenes would have likely been significantly less… gross. However, in my temporarily irrational state of mind, all pain melted into the background, leaving only an intense anger and a desire to kill the attacker at any cost.

I frantically reached for the closest object in my vicinity, which (incidentally) happened to be the edge of a particularly large glowing blade. The blade struck my body longways, and I instantly wrapped around it like a slap-on bracelet, allowing the burning sensation to fuel my rage. A distorted mass of air curled around me as I was lifted in a deadly arc, and momentarily hovered right above to my opponent’s head.

I let go when the twisted alien features became visible, fell quickly, then barely caught its lower set of teeth with my right hand. With my own teeth grinding furiously, I ignored the terrified roar and pulled myself up just high enough to force my upper body into its open maw. With little regard for the acoustics, I unhesitatingly pulled my knees up and wedged myself in.

I could feel the creature’s hands ripping at my legs, unable to break or extract me as I forcefully wriggled deeper into its throat. It vomited. This very… very viscous material likely indicated dehydration, but seeing as how it was unable to be ejected from by body (thanks to the saturated upper half of yours truly) or return to the stomach, it only had one other place to go.

The alien’s digestive fluids and melted meals were inhaled in large quantities. By this point, the extraterrestrial soldier was rolling on the ground and clawing at itself in a desperate attempt to breathe. I continued my rampage, crushing its uvula and scratching the hell out of its throat until blood washed away the vomit. The convulsing eventually stopped, and my opponent died.

The adrenaline faded, and exhaustion returned. There, in a dead alien’s throat, I finally drifted off to sleep for the first time in months. What am I going to do next? I don’t care. I’ll figure that out when I wake up.

[Author's Note: This is Randomguy516 (the author) here to clarify a few things. First (and foremost), this novel comes second to my other current projects, so chapters will likely be few and very far between.

Second, this main character is not the heroic type (obviously), but he's not necessarily villanous either. He is rationalizing the finality of existence and acting on a value system that is meant to represent the practice of optimistic nihilism (the feeling of freedom in knowing that nothing matters).

Third, my character's 'unique' ability is philosophically crippling Getting back up again is impressive... unless you're indestructable. He still feels pain, but without being capable of death, there is no permanent consequence. A lot of thought went into his ability, but I won't bore you with further details.

Finally, there will be a harem. If you're not into that sort of thing, then you should've checked the tags :)

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy my story!]