Weeeo weeoo weooo.
The sirens tore through the night like a warning from some dying god.
Too late now.
The nukes were in the air.
I had minutes. Maybe less.
I lit my last cigarette and sank to the floor of my crumbling apartment, eyes fixed on the stained ceiling.
Well…
I guess this is it.
It didn't start with the nukes.
It started earlier. Quieter.
Supply chains collapsing for no reason anyone could explain.
False flag attacks blamed on the usual enemies.
Politicians on both sides reading from the same script, word for word.
We called it The Spiral when it all started falling apart.
But some of us knew better.
Whispers on the edge of every mission—intel reports that didn't add up, enemies we weren't supposed to ask questions about.
People started calling it the ghost hand—a hidden force pulling the strings, pushing the world toward something none of us could stop.
I spent ten years in uniform, chasing shadows across the world.
Watching friends die.
Watching the lies pile up.
I got out thinking I'd survived it.
But the war followed me home.
Martial law. Riots. Cities burning.
And now… this.
I dragged on the cigarette, letting the smoke burn slow in my lungs.
Years of fighting this terrible war..
Bad choices stacking up like empty bottles on the floor.
Life was never easy.
But it was mine.
And in the quiet between all the wreckage—
There were moments.
Good music.
Quiet nights.
A few laughs with people I didn't push away fast enough.
And now?
I exhaled, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling.
No one left to miss me.
If there's another life—
maybe I'll figure out who really started all this.
BOOM.
A white flash swallowed everything.
No time to run.
No time to pray.
Just light.
And then—nothing.
No pain.
No fear.
Just the hollow quiet you don't come back from.
Beeeeep. Beeep. Beeep.
That sound again.
Sharp. Familiar.
Digging into my skull like an icepick.
An alarm clock?
No.
That's impossible.
I'm dead… right?
I forced my body to move. Heavy. Slow. Like I'd been sleeping in wet cement.
I cracked my eyes open.
Gray morning light spilled through the blinds.
I pushed up on my elbows, breath catching in my throat.
No way.
The peeling paint.
The crooked lamp.
The posters curling at the edges.
The dent in the nightstand I made when I threw that stupid remote.
My heart thudded.
I reached for the phone—same plastic case, same little crack on the corner.
September 1, 2020.
Senior year.
I let out something between a laugh and a curse.
What the hell is happening?
I shoved the blanket off and stood on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else. The air smelled like dust and old sweat—exactly how I remembered.
Somehow… I was back.
Back before the Spiral.
Back before the sirens.
Back before the end.
But the memories were still there—every second of them burned into my mind.
And something else flickered at the edge of my thoughts…
A briefing I wasn't supposed to see.
August 1, 2030.
Flagged. Red.
I couldn't remember why. Just the date—screaming at me now like an alarm I couldn't shut off.
I grabbed my hoodie and stepped into the hallway.
Same scuffed floors.
Same half-busted door frame.
Downstairs, a note on the counter waited like it always did.
Hey Oliver,
Here's some money for lunch and dinner. Won't be home tonight.
–Dad
Of course.
The memories snapped back like a slap to the face.
Dad would be at her place.
With her kids.
His new life.
And me?
Just the leftover from the first one.
Mom…
I hadn't seen her since I was five.
No birthdays. No calls.
Except that one time when I was sixteen—one voicemail I deleted without listening to.
I told myself she didn't deserve a second chance.
I told myself I didn't care.
But standing in that kitchen, in the silence that felt heavier than anything I'd carried in the field…
I wasn't so sure anymore.
I wasn't that angry kid anymore.
Not really.
The life I'd lived—the life I'd lost—had burned that out of me.
Or maybe it had sharpened it into something else.
This felt like a reset.
A second chance I didn't ask for.
I pressed my palms to the counter and let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
And that's when it happened.
[SYSTEM INITIALIZED]
Wealth Progression System Online.
Welcome, Oliver Shaw.
Current Balance: $20.00 USD.
I flinched, stepping back so fast I knocked into the fridge.
The words just… hovered there. Bright and sharp, like they were etched into the air.
"…What the hell is this?" I muttered.
The screen flickered, responding without sound or warning.
Objective: Build Net Worth.
Milestone: $10,000 Net Worth.
Reward: 1 Evolution Point.
My gut twisted.
"Evolution point?" I whispered.
The system reacted again.
[Clarification Locked.]
Reach First Milestone to Unlock More.
I swallowed hard.
This wasn't a dream.
Wasn't a hallucination.
It felt… designed.
Like something had placed this in front of me.
The ghost hand.
The Spiral.
Whatever had steered the world off the edge the first time—
Was this them?
I reached out, but the screen shrank into a small glowing dot in the corner of my vision, always there, no matter where I looked.
$20.00 USD. Progress: 0.01%.
Whatever this was, it wasn't going away.
And it wasn't answering any more questions—not yet.
I stood there, fists clenching at my sides.
I didn't know the rules.
Didn't know who was pulling the strings.
But if this was the game now…
I sure as hell wasn't planning on losing it twice.