Players & Pawns - QiCon🪐HQ

Chapter 1: We’re leaving on a Hover-Cruiser

The vibe on Earth was a mix of its…its…it’s the news…yeah whatever! As if everyone had agreed that worrying was for suckers. Sure, the glaciers were mostly puddles, the forests had all turned into nostalgic VR landscapes, and gravity had been feeling… kind of iffy. But hey, we’re still kicking, right? If Earth was falling apart, it was doing it in style.

People were throwing rooftop barbecues and swapping conspiracy theories over fruity drinks. “The Great Orbital Migration,” they called it—mostly as a joke, a story to toss around while munching on the last real avocados. “Yeah, sure, mate! Any day now they’ll whisk us off to paradise in hover-cruisers. We’ll be sipping piña coladas in orbit by Christmas!” someone would say, and everyone would laugh it off, clinking glasses.

Even Comet wasn’t too worried. He’d heard the buzz about some “countdown” from sketchy feeds, but that just meant they had more time to party, right? He figured things would be fine—Earth had survived worse. And if not? Well, that was future-Comet’s problem, as he lost himself in the pages of his most cherished possession, a hardcover book. Gleaming at a plan unfolding like clockwork, the Ka-Chinglianaire leaned back in his sleek, glass-tinted office, a faint smile playing on his lips as he surveyed the array of screens before him. The pieces were moving, and soon he would set the stage for something monumental. Each screen flickered with snapshots of life across various planets—bustling cityscapes brimming with activity, quiet, secluded rooms where private conversations unfolded like hidden dramas, and Earth’s emptying cities, a stark reminder of what was at stake.

He tapped his finger rhythmically on the armrest, savoring the moment, then turned to his secretary. “There, him.”

“The older one?” she asked, glancing at the screen.

“No, him—the quiet, introspective one. Scan for his name. The one with his nose buried in that book.”

Curiosity flickered in her eyes. “Where did he get a poetry book from?”

“Never mind that,” he replied, waving his hand dismissively. “It shows he’s resourceful—exactly who I want. Keep scanning, and ramp up the Trojans and Trolls. Beam me when you have a hit. So, what’s his name? Quickly, time belongs to me, and I am in no mood to share any of it!” the Ka-Chinglianaire, Mr. Avaricious Rogue, shouted.

As Comet and the world went on in a sleepwalking haze, life was about to throw a meteorite with an appetite for making history—or, more to the point, eliminating it.

Then it hit.

“BREAKING NEWS! BREAKING NEWS! This is a hot mic moment! Get your hover shoes on, grab your hover bag—life here is about to end, but you don’t have to…” The crackling voice from the speakers echoed across the crumbling city, not meant for public ears but spilling out everywhere, adding fuel to the fire of panic already spreading through the streets.

Comet froze mid-panic, his hover bag half-packed with random junk—a hoodie, some socks, and his hover board. Yeah, I’ll need this. He tossed his dad’s old-school Apple Millennia-4 in, then frantically glanced around. Oh, and that—my book, where is it? His eyes darted across the room. Yep, some of Dad’s stuff… Mum’s too, can’t forget that.

He grabbed a tee off the floor, crumpling it in his fist. His favorite Levi jacket caught his eye, half-hanging off the chair. Gotta take that, too. Standing there, staring at his life bulging out of his hover bag, Comet felt the weight of everything crashing down, swearing he heard his mum’s voice echo loudly in his head: “Don’t forget to pack a fresh pair of jockey briefs, son.”

“Yes, Mum,” he called out as tears streamed from his eyes. “I miss you, Mum. Love you. I’ll never forget you guys… say hello to Dad for me, please, Mum.”

Another hover-cruiser crashed to the ground outside, but the noise barely registered through the grief weighing down his chest. His upper torso tightened as sirens blared, the screech of hover-cars smashing and crashing, thumping to the ground… impending doom. Is this truly it? The thought buzzed through his mind, paralyzing him for a moment as he looked at the chaotic mix of his past stuffed into the bag—fragments of a life he was about to leave behind forever.

Outside the window, hover-cars zipped by in a frantic, clashing storm, their gamma trails like frenzied comets streaking across the hazy, polluted sky. Hoverbikes screamed through the air, dodging debris and each other, lights flashing red and blue, refracted off the blinds, beaming chaos straight into his room as the city tore itself apart.

“Comet! What are you doing? MOVE IT!” Atlas shouted from the door, his voice cutting through the chaos. His older brother’s face was tense, his eyes wild. “Forget that stuff—just grab your bag and LETS GO! We’re out of time!”

Comet’s hands fumbled. He placed his mum and dad’s photo in, then pulled it back out, staring at it like it was suddenly the most priceless thing in the world. The old photo of their parents—he hesitated, then stuffed it back into the bag, only to yank it out again and place it in his pocket throwing in a t-shirt instead. His head spun, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what was happening. The countdown to the hover-bus was already ticking in his mind.

Outside, the shriek of crashing hover-cars sent a tremor through the building, rattling the windows.

“We’re dead if you don’t move!” Star burst in, her voice high-pitched, pulling at Comet’s arm. “You’ll be roasted alive—get out now!”

Comet barely heard her. Instead, he grabbed a piece of chalk from the floor and rushed to the wall, his hands shaking as he began to etch his final goodbye onto the surface. His message, desperate and defiant, took shape. “Romeo and Juliet encore—Banksy style.” His personal message to the future scrawled on the fading wall.

“Are you insane?!” Celestial screamed, rushing in just as another hover-car slammed into a nearby building, the explosion lighting up the sky. “Comet, we have seconds! Seconds!”

The city outside was on fire—hoverbikes crashed into the street below, people screamed in every direction, while the sky lit up with neon panic. Comet, ignoring the chaos around him, finished his last line: “If millennia pass before you return, be a player, not a pawn. With love, your great-great…great…great grandpop, Comet.”

Atlas grabbed him by the collar, yanking him toward the door. “NOW! Get to the bus or we’re toast—BBQ, hotdog, whatever! We’ve gotta GO!”

With one last glance at his graffiti, Comet sprinted after his brother and friends, dodging the debris and chaos as hover-cars collided above, the sky a flashing storm of desperation. The countdown was ticking—there was no more time. They had one shot to escape the madness before the city burned to nothing and they missed the last hover-us out.

Comet’s last goodbye etched on the wall, a poignant epitaph for a fading world that had so much promise. A stark reminder of humanity’s folly and a desperate plea for redemption. And with their tees pulled up as makeshift masks and sheer determination, there wasn’t time for the old blame game. The only way they had to survive was to beat the feet straight to the bus terminal. And if they didn’t know how dire it was the terminal’s countdown clock told them as it chimed ticking insistently in their ears.

Atlas, hardened by a life of responsibility, led the charge, his every movement fueled by an urgency that transcended the virtual games he’d mastered. This was no competition; there was no reset button, no second chance. Each shoulder smash against the oppressive smog was a desperate fight for survival, a visceral reminder of the harsh reality beyond the digital illusion.

“Guys, Atlas said this walking isn’t going to get us out of here. Comet, grab your hover board. Let’s tether up—you ride on top with Star, and Celestial and I will tie footholds and hang on underneath. We need to give it a go.” So they did. Comet hovered, taking the weight, and up they went, swinging, smashing into things, and crashing through obstacles. Then the old hover board coughed, spluttered, and finally crashed in a cloud of glory. “We can’t give up,” Star said. “Okay, let’s push on,” Atlas replied, feeling down but knowing that crying over it wasn’t going to get them to the hover terminal. “Let’s beat the feet and pick up the pace,” Celestial said.

Suddenly, a streak zoomed across the sky, a fleeting glimpse of something vibrant against the sickly gray backdrop. The haunting canvas of pollution offered no solace; the sun had become a distant memory, eclipsed by the toxic haze that clung to them like a suffocating shroud.

“Look,” Comet shouted, his voice tinged with panic, “it’s leaving us behind!”

“Damn, we’ve gotta keep humping it out of here. We need to head for Dad’s old Ford. Check your tethers! Let’s go! I’ve gotta pick up the pace! Come on, guys!” Atlas said loudly in between bouts of rasping coughing.

Tears streamed down their faces, mingling with the grime, their lungs burning with each labored breath. Yet, they pushed onward, their resolve fueled by the desperate hope of reaching their dad’s old Ford-H2 950. The smog thickened, a swirling, disorienting miasma that played cruel tricks on their senses. Shapes warped and twisted, familiar landmarks dissolved into hazy silhouettes. Celestial, her vision blurred, stumbled, crashing into Star, who in turn lost her balance, the chain reaction threatening to topple them all.

Atlas, blinded by the stinging air, lurched forward, colliding with the side of what he thought was an abandoned vehicle. The impact sent a shockwave of pain through his body, but it also pierced the fog of panic, jolting him back to the present. The eerie wail of sirens grew louder, a chilling reminder of the impending danger. Their dad’s cruiser, their lifeline, was tantalizingly close, but the smog-choked streets seemed to stretch endlessly before them.

Then, amidst the cacophony of sirens and panicked shouts, a faint sound reached Atlas’s ears—a child’s whimper, followed by a woman’s hushed pleas. He froze, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Did you hear that?” he rasped, his voice barely audible above the din.

The others paused, straining to listen. At first, only silence met their ears, but then, a faint cry pierced through the haze. It was a child’s cry, high-pitched and terrified.

“There!” Star exclaimed, her voice filled with urgency. “It’s coming from that vehicle!”

Celestial’s eyes widened. “We have to help them!”

Comet, despite his own fear, nodded resolutely. “We can’t just leave them.”

At that moment, the blast of a countdown timer echoed through the terminal, outdoor speakers bellowing throughout the city. Its holographic digital numbers beamed a bright, final red: 60… 59… 58… Then came a life-ending announcement: the last hover-bus had departed. The urgency of their situation intensified, a knot of dread tightening in their stomachs.

Without another word, they charged toward the abandoned shuttle, their determination fueled by the desperate cries echoing through the smog. “Get them out, then we’ll head for our old Ford!”

Atlas reached the door first, yanking it open with a strength born of desperation. Inside, a family huddled together, their faces pale and etched with fear.

“Please,” the mother pleaded, her voice trembling. “Atlas is that you, please help us.”

Atlas didn’t hesitate. “We’re going to get you out of here,” he assured her, his voice a beacon of hope in the swirling chaos.

Together, the teens helped the family out of the cruiser, their movements swift and efficient.

“Is there anyone else with you?” Atlas asked hurriedly.

“No, my older daughters are already there, setting up our new life. It’s just us. Thank you, young man, thank you,” she said.

“We have to go, head for Dad’s old Ford, it’s not that far from here. We’ll toggle you to us, keeping you and your baby in the middle. Celeste, you’re at the tail end. Keep communicating with each other; we can’t afford to lose anyone,” Atlas said, his tone urgent.

They linked arms in single file as they navigated the treacherous streets. The sirens wailed, the smog thickened, but they pressed on, their hearts filled with a shared purpose. They moved with haste and caution towards their old H2 hover-cruiser, a desperate race against time. The terminal doors loomed ahead, a sliver of hope amidst the chaos.

The weight of their decision, the sacrifices they had made, hung heavy in the air. But amidst the uncertainty, a glimmer of hope remained. They had defied the odds, challenged the system, and proven that even in the darkest of times, compassion and courage could prevail. With the hum of engines thrumming ominously in the background, they lunged for the handle, the promise of escape a mere breath away—if they could survive the final, desperate push.

The hiss of air escaping transformed the choking haze of darkness into swirling shades of gray, a lifeline as the door creaked open to reveal a dimly lit interior. Relief washed over the teens as they ushered the family inside, stumbling into the refuge. Their lungs gasped for the musty air, grateful for its heaviness over the toxic plumes of noxious fumes outside. They were safe now. Atlas slammed the cruiser’s portal shut, sealing them away from the encroaching chaos.

He turned to the mother and child as the mother looked him in the eye and nodded. “We were forced off the hover lane. It wasn’t an accident.”

“And the assailants? What happened to them?” he asked.

“They were taken out. The thing is, I’m not important. Everyone is in place, it’s game on,” she said.

Strapping up, Star sighed and said, “We made it!” Her voice was raspy from the toxic air.

“Barely,” Comet coughed, leaning against the wall. “But we’re not out of the woods yet. Okay, we’re still on track. This is for you, Mum and Dad.”

Star and Celestial chimed in, “Yeah, Dad! Mum! We’ll see youse right!”

Atlas nodded, his chest heaving. “Okay, we need to get to the final check-in point. Fast!”

He moved toward the pilot’s seat, his fingers fumbling for the ignition key. But there was nothing there.

“Where’s the key?” he asked, panic edging into his voice.

The others joined in the frantic search, their hopes plummeting with each passing second. The sirens outside grew louder, their ominous wail a constant reminder of the danger lurking just beyond the safety of their old Ford cruiser’s cocoon.

“We’re trapped!” Celeste cried, her voice cracking. “We’re going to die here!”

Atlas slammed his fist against the dashboard, frustration and fear battling for dominance. “There has to be a way out of this!”

At that moment, Comet’s hand grazed against something tucked away in the pocket of his satchel, overflowing with his parents’ treasured keepsakes. He carefully withdrew the object, his eyes widening in disbelief at what he held.

“Atlas, look!”

In his hand was their dad’s old phone, an Apple Millennia-4 from a time before the Collapse. A wave of nostalgia washed over Atlas as he held it, its smooth surface a stark contrast to the rough, utilitarian design of everything in their new reality. He remembered the countless hours he and Comet had spent playing games on it, their pop’s warm laughter filling the room. He remembered the bedtime stories their dad would download, readying for tuck-in time, then use the interactive holograms to bring them to life. Their father’s voice had a way of soothing their fears, filling their dreams with wonder. He would fondly recall the mesmerizing swirls of glowing blue streams, how they’d whisk him and Comet away, spiraling them through endless skies to far-off lands brimming with magic and mystery. There, they’d be greeted by Maui and Moana, as they soared through nebula skies, gliding beneath the endless colors of aurora borealis lights that dazzled the sight. It was pure, carefree fun. And if ever they feared the towering, clandestine figures that seemed so menacing, Moana would sing them a gentle lullaby while Maui cracked a joke, making the dark less scary and the journey feel all the more like an adventure. So when Maui appeared, the brothers knew they weren’t alone—no matter how far they traveled, or how scary life became.

Tears welled up in Atlas’s eyes as he clutched their pop’s cell tightly. Their pop had always been their rock, their protector. And now, even in his absence, holding his dad’s Apple he had given them a lifeline as its blue glow infused the console bringing it to live.

“Dad…” Atlas whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Thank you.”

All the while, the Ka-Chinglianaire, Avaricious Rogue, reclined in his chair, his gaze fixed on the vibrant displays showcasing life across the galaxies. Each screen told a story, depicting either a possession of his or a future acquisition—his latest target, a planet called Earth, a hustle decades in the making. As his fingers drummed on the armrest, the sound grew louder, matching the rising tide of his frustration. Finally, he turned to his secretary and demanded, “What’s his name? Why am I still waiting?”

“Comet. His name is Comet, sir. He’s interested in nostalgia,” Ms. Eavesdropper replied.

“Nostalgia, huh? You mean old stuff like that ‘X?’”

“No, he doesn’t show any trolling traits. But he’s into old-time spy series.” She hastily scribbled notes on her tablet, as if the request were just another routine task.

The Ka-Chinglianaire’s smile widened as his gaze flickered back to the screens. “Good. Hook him up as a candidate, then an eventual winner of the spy scam.” Each snapshot was a thread in a grand tapestry he was weaving—a game that was only just beginning.

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