Cyan light enters through the arched window, reflecting off the light gray walls of the bedroom littered with piles of vials, flasks, and beakers as well as other transparent cases along the light purple oceanic floor. Most of the litter was concentrated on the far side of the large bed, where there sits a long black table on the adjacent corner of the bed night stand, the additional table being one of the few pieces of additional furniture to the room as well as a white body pillow laying on the bed next to a large black bag with a trash bag texture.

On the black table which has a small silver plate by the right corner, there are innumerable beakers and flasks alongside racks of vials, each holding variously colored liquids. On the table are holographic red circles around a few of the spherical flasks resembling boiling flasks, and each of them has a small screen above with various schematics and numbers. Those particular flasks emit a strange gas too, being in use.

Among the containers are also a few silver cylindrical devices with apertures at the top like pots, some of which project blue flat screens with a timer, each at various amounts between ‘00:00:04:12:43’ and ‘00:00:00:1:02.’ Some of them also emit a noticeable gaseous substance with diverse colors, shrouding the room in what doesn’t seem particularly safe.

Not even wearing a mask, the man in the brown overcoat stands in front of the table, with a white stool behind him not being used. He glances at the various beakers, studying them in silence with his personal handgun on the table in front of him, placed on its side with all of the empty rectangular chambers exposed on its side in an array.

He stands over a pile of the empty vials on the floor, unconcerned about his lack of organization, for the entire room is a horrible mess that could’ve likely been far worse in the situation of him having multiple changes of clothes.

Peering straight through the translucent bubbly liquids contained in the flasks, the man has an intent, serious gaze, for while most of the time he lacks a straight demeanor he does show one in this instance. He watches bubbles rise inside a pink fluid before then moving his gaze onto a beaker with a light teal liquid.

He then leans up straight, and turns around, walking to the bed and shuffling through the containers on the ground which rattle and spread across the floor chaotically.

Ignoring the containers, the man grabs the black bag off the bed, and returns back to the table, where he then waves the bag twice to widen the opening, holding the bag facing the table with his left hand.

Suddenly, the man begins shoving the beakers off the table and into the black bag haphazardly, first avoiding the flasks and other containers.

While at first the move appears strange, none of the liquids in the beakers manage to slip out of their containers, rather upon sloshing up to the opening they are simply repelled back down as if there’s an invisible force restricting them from spilling even though they’re being tossed messily in the bag, flipping around and clanging with one another.

After sweeping the entire table of all the beakers, one of the odd pot machines counts from ‘00:00:00:00:01,’ to reading the text: ‘MIXTURE COMPLETE.’

The man turns to face the machine, having sensed the completion, to which he then waves his hand in front of it, causing a hole in the front cylindrical face of the device to dematerialize, allowing a large beaker to then hover out from inside the machine before stopping. The beaker is filled with a dark turquoise liquid, and is immediately grabbed and tossed into the black bag without a second thought.

After observing the pot machine’s holographic screen vanishing, the man glances at one of the boiler flask releasing constant gas, and without thought he uses his right hand to grab the top of one, and brings it to his mouth where he then begins chugging the radiating orange liquid inside, gulping it down and gradually draining the flask.

He finishes the entire boiler flask before tossing it in the bag too, his body waving from side to side as if drunk before he then shakes his head and straightens his posture. Afterwards he notes another pot completing its timer, and once again he waves his hand over it.

Not too far from the room is another bedroom, although it has a spotless floor and no chemical containers, rather along the walls are several golden forearms like gauntlets although without a hollow opening, each with different patterns and designs. On the bedside tables are also a few tools, one of which has the resemblance of a phillips screwdriver, and another appears similar to an eraser.

On the other side of the room on the white chair sits the woman in the black blazer, facing the accompanying table filled with even more tools, most of which are noticeably larger like devices shaped as drills and random sawblades upright. Among the devices are also a few other components, more golden forearms but also golden boots, similar to her cybernetic components albeit without as many notable ridges and with silver accents on the ankles.

In the woman’s hand is a faceless mask much like hers albeit detached, and while she’s examining the mask there’s a golden tentacle protruding off the upper left of her back, which extends all the way into the center of the mirror next to the window providing bright sunlight.

On the reflective surface of the mirror, the golden tentacle grips with three small spidery legs jutting out triangularly, also stuck to the mirror.

Next to the woman is a flat golden hologram with a narrow display, conveying a progress bar filled halfway with green and the other half still gold, and above the bar reads the text: ‘DOWNLOADING WARDROBE . . .,’ indicating that she was loading up all of the clothing inside, packing it without needing to touch anything using her two hands.

The hologram remains above her head and to the side, not causing a distraction while she gazes at the faceless mask before her eyes project a golden light onto it, which thereby causes the entire mask to flash in golden light before entirely vanishing.

After storing the mask, the woman continues to grab the boot. She holds it up, and as she does, her eyes linger off of the boots and onto one of the components further in the back of the table, that being a gauntlet although noticeably different as it has a glassy black glove with apertures along the golden forearm like vents. The gauntlet also has azureus streaks painted on between the apertures, giving it more personality.

She eyes the gauntlet for a few seconds before softly sighing, and then faces the boot in her hand, tossing it lightly a couple times to judge its weight, although she doesn’t seem to struggle at all holding it.

Still gazing on the boot, her eyes then shine a golden ray onto it, and once again it flickers gold before disappearing off her hands.

She then places her elbow on the table, using her upright hand to rest the side of her head before she lets out a silent sigh, observing her personal workstation while the green progress bar above her continues to climb steadily.

From her back, multiple golden tentacles start to emerge before slowly crawling across the other side of the room where the gauntlets sit above the bed.

While the woman lays her head on her hand, each of the various tentacles grabs onto a gauntlet, causing it to flash gold and disappear too, also without need of her own hands. The tentacles efficiently store the gauntlets above the bed, and once they store the final one they slowly retract to her back where they then seep through her skin and vanish.

In yet another bedroom, smaller figurines of characters wielding oversized swords pose on the bedside table while familiar plushies cover the bed itself.

However, one of the plushies is grabbed by the young woman in the cupcake hoodie, who holds it in her left hand while her right hand holds a small white leather Pouch the size of a wallet with a visible aperture.

She brings the first plushie over the Pouch, to which it projects a blue light over the plushie before making it disappear, being sent to storage inside the far smaller space.

Continuing on, the young woman grabs another plush and repeats the same action, stowing it away as she gradually packs up the room. She puts a chibi-styled plush of a cartoon girl with long purple hair over the Pouch, storing it, and then grabs the white dog plush before too holding it over and allowing it to vanish in a blue flash.

In a sequential and mindless procedure, the girl picks up the plushies off her bed to store them in the Pouch, eventually nearly depriving the entire bed and only leaving a few left.

Next, the girl walks to the other side of the room away from the window, where she approaches the pink translucent shelves. Next to the shelves is the closed white door, and on the door is the poster of the group of girls fashioned in casual formal uniforms in front of the interesting tortilla-colored building, still up such as most of the figurines on the translucent shelves placed in perfect distance to one another yet close enough to fit them all.

She stops once in front of the shelves, and takes a moment to raise her head and appreciate the collection, smiling faintly while observing the many different types of figurines ranging from ones of grounded characters with casual clothing to others dressed in exoskeletal mech suits bringing their heights up by multiple feet.

There are figurines of blonde women in formal black and white dresses, and then there are figurines of short men wearing brown jackets and wielding long silver blades with several ridges along each blade.

Oddly enough, there is even a bizarre figurine of a man dressed completely in an bright blue suit sleek with yellow guards on his neck, shoulders, and upper arm and a black cape over a white mask, although the design feels more cartoonish as the body isn’t exactly proportionate to that of a real human, as for one the figurine’s body was far more muscular to an overly masculine extent that it doesn’t even appear natural but rather that of a bodybuilder.

On the body is noticeable shading made with black strokes like a comic book character, strokes shading for not only creases in the suit but also the individual muscles of the body including the huge arms. Even more comical, the figurine is in an odd pose, standing on the tiptoes of its black boots while leaning backwards and having the left hand against hip and the right in front of its face, the left in a fist and the right with fingers bent in random directions to demonstrate an interesting pose.

Such a variety of such a diverse and expansive collection, but as the girl stares through sparkling pink irises albeit in a sentimental expression, she acknowledges that they would either need to be stored away or abandoned for an indefinite period of time after she had put so much time and meticulous craftsmanship to setting up her collection in a home she had assumed would remain constant, at least for longer than it ended up lasting.

A frown is worn on her face while studying all of the figurines, understanding that she wasn’t exactly following the order of bare essentials in the traditional sense of needing them for survival and basic hygienic purposes, however the plushies and figurines being collected felt like horcruxes, and by leaving them behind she would abandon part of herself to.

Starting off from the rightmost shelf, the girl starts to pick off figurines from the shelves and placing them over the Pouch, allowing it to store the collectibles.

Although rather than picking up every figurine on the shelf, the girl’s hands noticeably passed a few of them, as while she drained the shelves in a blatant pattern from right to left, up to down, she intentionally left some of the figurines be.

Not exactly was she avoiding the figurines out of fear for filling up the Pouch’s inventory space, for there was more than enough to carry rooms full of objects, but rather there was the grim concern of potentially losing her Pouch throughout the mission, and in the event of that happening she couldn’t risk completely depriving her collection.

Perhaps concerns over the survival of a collection of small models isn’t exactly the most pressing when the entire move is done for the sake of her own survival, for her life depended on the mission. They were, effectively, going into exile to hide from a maniacal monster capable of destroying beings seen as gods, one who set its red eyes on them and already knew where their official residence was regardless of how it was intentionally designed to be discrete and hidden from potential invaders so well that simply making errands was advised against.

Even then, being able to focus on less grave matters as life and death was relieving, and the ability to choose to carry artifacts held dear to her yet not exactly to the same extent as her own life presented a sense of control–even if minor–which was ultimately soothing.

Deep below the bedrooms down not only several floors but also even further deep the dirt and stone underground, blue holographic screens reside in a wrap around the man in the leather jacket, who stands in the center, his hands behind his back which is straightened.

All over the screen are profuse windows, all of them having progress bars which rapidly fill green before vanishing and being replaced by other progress bars, as though some heavy process is taking place around the man, whose white locks drift in the cold cave breeze while he peers forward through dreary blue eyes. Windows constantly vanish while others appear, loading and then freeing space for other bars to load up next.

Of all the copious windows on the cylindrical monitor, there is only one that is not simply a progress bar, a large narrow window right in front of the man’s face. On that one window, there is text that simply reads: ‘PROTOCOL CAPSULE,’ and below it is another progress bar, albeit it loads nowhere as fast, but instead is only about half way complete and dragging along so slow that while hundreds of other processes complete themselves it hardly moves on the screen.

The text pulses white too, bringing more attention to itself, which the man observes in silence while surrounded by all of the bars, giving him time to meditate in solitude.

In the end he bit, taking up on the plan and now needing to make the necessary preparations to execute it safely. One of the most concerning elements of the plan was the concept of abandoning the Pad, the base he’s had from early on in his career, one that’s held universes worth of memories from when he was an aspiring young man to when he was a scarred old man.

Especially over the past decade the base had become his only home even more so than the literal house above him, as if anything the house was nothing more than a cover, a costume, with no meaningful functionality beyond simply allowing him to own substantial land while appearing relatively normal compared to the other residents around, who likely didn’t have such an immense basement.

This was the place he worked every day of those restless years, a place that not only burdened his pain but helped to relieve them, a place he could go to where he felt truly safe and didn’t need to hide.

But now, he was losing that place, leaving it for a duration he wasn’t even sure of. Sure, it was explained that he could technically last years outside, but he wasn’t sure if that was exactly desirable, being so far from home for so long.

Somehow in the end, he was already feeling homesick before even departing, and all he could hope was that in preserving his home he could one day summon it back in pristine condition. Especially given that the enemy knew of his house, precautions had to be made in the event of a search, and luckily this one action was something the enemy did not know of, and was one of his very few ace cards left although being used immediately.

Eventually there are less progress bars on the monitor, as while they continue to vanish after completing, there are no longer any to take their place.

Below the text, the progress bar was nearly complete, with only a sliver left.

Finally the last few other progress bars behind the man are fulfilled and vanish, and at that same time the bar below the text is achieved to its full extent.

Around the man, the whole holographic screen withdraws at once, revealing the rest of the cave as the distant chrome disks levitate above the central platform, although they all sit below the stalactite ceiling regardless which looms over and extends forth into the infinite darkness in all directions beyond the light of the pads.

Even in the finitely lit space of the cave, there was such expansive space inhabited by the great sundry of chrome pads, all of them under the sharp shimmering ceiling of stalactites and above the dark glassy plain of water.

To even receive a view of all in the illuminated area of the cave, the one man inside was hardly anything more than a spec, a black dot over the chrome surface moving away from the ring of tables towards the edge where a blue translucent bridge is summoned, connecting the central pad to the next.

As the black spec begins journeying up the narrow bridge only a line from such distance, multiple pads in the distance suddenly flash bright blue, and as the light around them dissipates it reveals their abrupt absence of not only their bodies but the light they released, darkening the cave further.

At first, only a couple of the most distant pads vanish, but a few seconds later while the man reaches the end of the bridge, multiple more disappear as if the base was being undone, ridding any presence of an unnatural structure existing in the secluded cave. With every disappearance, the cave grows darker and darker, the lit space shrinking from the further rim of the base but gradually inward while the man passes the next pad where he is met by another bridge much longer than the last, which he starts to take at the exact time that several more pads retreat.

On the currently traversed inclined bridge, the man walks with his hands pocketed hunched forward, trekking up the narrow bridge only wide enough for him to walk in a perfectly straight line, given no railings to protect himself from falling far down to the waters below, so distant that the mere impact given the water’s surface tension may very well be excruciating.

Beyond the walking man, more chrome pads fade into their flashes, shimmering like stars before ceasing and relinquishing their defense against the darkness which then conquers the space, consuming it into the void.

Wind hollers against the man, brushing his locks backwards while he continues marching forward, making his way up the dissipating stronghold like a boy making their way up the stairs after turning the basement lights off.

While the man’s face remains stoic, outwardly calm, he can’t help but feel a solemn melancholy for needing to abandon his home, making another sacrifice for a mission he thought he could scrape through the rest of his days without being dragged into.

Not only terrifying was the new threat, but in a sense, just the fact that he had to deal with it was vexing, furthermore needing now to protect a group he never asked to have under his wing.

While he didn’t like most of what was said in the conversation that marked the decision, he felt somewhat glad that it was made aware that in truth the group was pushed onto him, he didn’t seek for them to join him nor ever wanted them in the field.

At the same time however, he couldn’t simply put all the blame on the others, for that would be terribly irresponsible. It was also true that ultimately he allowed the group to partake in that final mission, and in reluctant honesty they did prove to be a great aid, saving him from what could have been his end. Yet him letting them join was a horribly selfish and dangerous action, one that ended up proving itself to likely being a mistake.

As the man hikes up the bridge, he recounts the threats the man in red made against the group, promising to seek bringing about their annihilation for the simple fact that they were with him.

This was retribution, and he wasn’t sure how well he could handle it. If he hoped to save the three, he needed to be stronger for them.

He needed more.

Oddly enough, the man comes to an abrupt halt before reaching the end of the bridge, and he raises his head up to the distant pad at the end of the bridge.

In a strange action, the man turns to face the empty void next to the bridge, where there is no apparent platform, but rather just darkness in the uninhabited area. He gazes at the abyss for a few silent moments, just staring with his hands still in his pockets.

Behind the man, the final few platforms on the left side of the bridge cease in bright flickers of light, nearly enshrouding the whole cave in darkness if it weren’t for the bridge and two pads connecting it alone.

Standing still on the narrow bridge with keen blue eyes and waving white hair, the man reaches his hand forward into the void, and he then turns his wrist in a gesture resembling the act of unlocking a door with a physical key.

Facing in front of the man, a second bridge suddenly appears, branching off of the one the man is already on and instead trailing past the man’s gaze.

The bridge connects to a chrome pad now present, emitting light where there once was absolute darkness. However, the pad appears entirely empty, only a flat platform with no visible constructs whether it be tables or other machinery, as from the outside it seems entirely useless.

The man lowers his head and closes his eyes, considering his choices.

Moments of frozen silence pass as the man simply stares down the bridge to the empty pad, dwelling deeply on his next action, troubled with which path to take, whether it be the one continuing where he was heading to or the new branch.

At last the man raises his head up, and opens his sharp eyes in a stern, persistent glare, his mind made up as the breeze passes and drops his locks from the current.

Staring ahead with the same stern face, the blue eyed man later rests his back against the black seat accompanied by a headrest, and behind the seat is a black bench of the same material, and past that bench is a narrow window exhibiting the cyan sky.

He then hears a whoosh, to which he turns to his right with an intrigued expression, having been waiting patiently.

Through the aperture on the side of the sleek matte black pod sitting on the circular peach driveway, the blue eyed man perks his head up.

Across the blue eyed man’s gaze is a white porch with several smooth pillars along both ends, and in the center of the porch is the remaining black nanite cloud before vanishing to reveal a doorway leading into the lobby of the mansion, and standing in the center of the doorway is the green eyed woman stands–wearing a solemn expression–before she strolls down the porch floor before reaching a peach ramp that leads her smoothly down to the driveway.

Behind her the pink eyed young woman follows–with a noticeably anxious face–, and tailing her next is the yellow eyed old man–embellished in an eager expression– , all three of them exiting the mansion together and heading to the driveway.

In front of the three is the sleek matte black pod, hovering slightly off the ground although low enough to easily enter through the two gaps on the side, one by the back leading to the black bench of the backseat, and another at the front leading to a second seat similar to the one the white haired man sits on, whose past that second seat with a table in between.

Departing from the mansion and stepping into the intense cyan sky, the green eyed woman first climbs into the seat at the front, accompanying the driver in the passenger seat.

Next, the pink eyed girl steps in through the opening at the back, and she slides down to the very end of the bench, leaving space remaining by the entrance. She faces the opening, waiting as she pats the seat beside her.

Finally, the yellow eyed old man crawls into the back space, not needing to crawl as he instead inhabits the near edge of the bench. He brings both of his legs into the interior of the pad, placing them on the black surface below the seat and benches.

At the front, the front passenger turns to face the driver, and the two concurrently nod heads. The driver then peers over the passenger’s shoulder, and watches as a black nanite cloud emerges over the two holes before covering them up and materializing the doors, enclosing the matte black pod and concealing the four without any exterior windows but instead only the smooth black surface.

After the pod is sealed, it begins to pull forward, driving straight forward and making a turn around the circular driveway, driving around the garden where the lightning rod fountain shines under the sunlight. The pod moves forward to the end of the peach circular field, driving down the narrow peach path, moving at a cautious pace.

Driving down the driveway towards the end, the pod moves away from the enormous white mansion with smooth walls that curve forward in the center where the lobby is, and bordering the central curve is the porch that completely wraps around the curve with a series of colossal pillars on both sides many stories tall, although leaving the front black door clearly visible. Above the porch is a curved extension of the white wall, providing an overhang seamlessly integrated to the rest of the exterior face. It protects the entire front porch, creating a jutted slot around the lobby’s tower.

While most of the front face of the mansion is relatively simple and flat, with no visible windows but instead a metallic body that reflects the cyan sunlight, the two ends of the face curve in cylindrical towers that then extend up past the main rooftop, which is made of a dark gray material that’s curved triangularly like a traditional roof, slightly overhanging past the white exterior wall.

Similarly to the two outer towers, the central curved lobby also extends past the main rooftop, and also similarly to the two towers, it peaks with a cone shaped rooftop the same dark gray as the rest, leaving three towers looming over the mansion, curved seamlessly with the main rooftop where its shape resembles that of a crown, the central spike being the widest.

Compared to the size of the pod which turns on the main black street, hardly lit due to the brightness of the sky albeit in evening, the mansion is colossal in scale, larger than many hotels and apartment complexes on its own. Judging by the height of the miniscule pod, there’s no telling just how many stories compose the house.

Even as the matte black pod begins to ascend higher off the ground, rising up with a tilt as it becomes airborne and starts climbing stories high, it takes several seconds before the pod manages to reach the top central tower’s peak. Eventually it does however, departing from the traditionally styled manor and ascending beyond.

Inside the pod, the blue eyed man keeps a focused stare through the transparent windshield ahead of him, accompanied by the blue holographic gauges along the edges of the windshield, one of which of a semicircle that’s partially filled red on the left side and very slowly filling in the semicircle, and below the circle reads: ‘763 MPH,’ functioning as a speedometer, although that number continues to climb with every passing second exponentially.

Through the windshield the warm cyan sky can be seen with sparse white clouds seemingly growing larger due to the closing proximity with it, and in the distance the cyan supersun is noticeably lower than earlier with its light less sharp and instead bleeding across the sky, priming to set.

In seconds the pod reaches to the clouds, soaring straight through the fluffy white strands above instantly as the speedometer races through quadruple digits into five and still increasing exponentially, still rising with no end as the sky beyond begins to darken more from cyan to black. The horizon passes below them as there are distinguishable layers of light, lingering cyan along the bottom of the windshield’s view although progressively darkening higher up the prospect.

Those few bright layers however become consumed in the darkness in the matter of seconds, passing the containment of light and warmth that the Earth offered, and instead traveling into the dark and cold abyss outside.

Regardless of how fast the pod was racing, not even the quietest hum could be heard from inside, instead preserving silence in the interior behind the windshield. While in reality the pod was roaring like a dragon from the outside, none of it could be heard, and in the expeditious speeds of the planetary exit all there was inside was serenity, not distracting from the soothing spectacle of the flight.

Still even without any turbulence, the sight was so remarkably breathtaking that it was far from inducing sleep. Captivating not from intrusive roars but rather with magnificent scenery, the aspect provided by the front windshield continues to evolve as without any visible bright light sources, the bright overhead of the earthbound sky was transforming into the dark expanse of the infinite cosmos, a swift yet smooth transition.

As the pod continues to accelerate, the view darkens nearly to black even more as a small message pops up on the top left of the windshield, simply reading: ‘EXITING ATMOSPHERE,’ the speedometer now reading six digits increasing so fast that the numbers were imperceivable at real time, for liftoff was so sudden, and the semicircular gauge above the speedometer has been slightly more filled although still not even a quarter way.

Leaning against the black seat, the driver keeps his stern glare ahead, and as the environment visible from the windows on his side darkens to black, small sparkles of white light appear over his blue irises, and among the white sparkles appear grand deep blue streaks.

As the beautiful image reflects off the driver’s eyes, they widen from the steely glare to an astonished gaze, consuming more of the sight in silent awe.

On the driver’s oceanic blue wide iris are the infinite white shimmering stars joined with elegant blue bright nebulae. It was a majestic sight, one inexperienced in so long, and yet even after all that time it took no delay for the sense of wonder to flood into him, for it felt nearly like the first time he had journeyed the cosmos.

Separated from the tender safety of home’s embrace, the matte black pod soars in the black void, gliding further from the mighty spherical cosmic body with a rich blue base overlaid by vast green and brown lands all wrapped around in white swirls and strands embellishing the planet’s surface as it draws further away from the pod.

Racing through the black void drawn with blue nebulas and sprinkled with white stars, the pod sustains pace, only still accelerating, as it bolts past the neighborhoring rocky gray spherical body orbiting the planet with darker blotches, and pristinely visible craters even from such distance all over the surface.

Coasting through the cosmos, the black pod roams beyond its home world, and towards the endless wall, facing the distant yet nevertheless titanic cyan supersun. It drifts into the eternal night, gliding freely in the vacuum.

On the celestial painting before the pod, distant dark globes could be faintly seen each with their own orbiting companions, and while they weren’t well lit from its main source of light, a few of them have faint yellow dots of lights like the stars along its body, indicating flourishing life of their own, entire other ecosystems, entire other biospheres.

There are an entire hundred worlds to explore, an entire hundred worlds to experience life on. It makes for a heavenly sight, and an extraordinary premise for a new adventure.

Set on course for a new world, this was the start of a new epic.

Now, it begins.