M’s Exposure
Several years have elapsed since the Last-Light event, a catastrophic occurrence that wiped out the sun and plunged the world into an inexorable twilight. The world is now overrun by monstrous creatures, and humanity is scattered, constantly on the move, and teetering on the brink of extinction. With no place safe from the relentless attacks of the Arcana, humans have reverted to a nomadic existence, perpetually fleeing and fighting for survival.
Mathew M. Mumphry, once a soldier, now a weary survivor, finds himself in the ruins of a fallen high-rise. The building, once a symbol of human achievement, is now overgrown with invasive flesh-like plant life, and the sounds of scuttling rats and roaches fill the air. He has no memory of how he ended up buried under rubble, waking recently to confusion and pain. His only thought is a primal urge to escape.
“Son of a… fuck,” Mathew mutters as he stumbles around, groaning and rubbing his aching head. The environment evokes memories of Mogadishu, with debris and decay everywhere. His vision, already poor, is further strained in the dim, flickering light of the ruined building, knowing that it signified the presence of an Arcana nearby.
Mathew’s glasses, long broken, are a constant hindrance as he navigates the treacherous terrain. “Shit, just like Gothic Serpent,” he mutters, trying to steady himself. Each step is a struggle, as his feet trip over scattered office supplies and debris, leading him to fall against a cracked window set at a precarious 30-degree angle.
Adjusting his glasses, he attempts to make his way out, but his body rebels. “Shit… son of… aaah,” he groans, clutching his side. For a moment, he lies there, contemplating if he should have died years ago. But survival instinct kicks in, and he slowly gets back up.
Thunder roars outside, a constant reminder of the unending storm that has plagued the world since the Last-Light event. The rain and lightning are relentless, though the building shields him from the worst of it. As he stands, Mathew finally finds his balance, his head throbbing but not bleeding.
In the dim light, he notices a door across the room, illuminated by a faintly glowing exit sign. To the left, he spots a figure, humanoid but shrouded in shadows. “Damn it,” he curses, assessing the distance to the exit and the potential threat.
“Alright. That’s it, cut it out,” Mathew demands, his voice steady despite his fear. The figure pauses, seemingly as confused as he is.
“Yea, that’s right, I’m talking to you. You can cut that shit out,” he taunts. Suddenly, the figure snaps its head towards him, revealing a grotesque visage. It’s an undead, bile dripping from its half-eaten face, parts of its body bloated and rotten. It croaks in response, and Mathew scrunches his face in disgust. “Jesus… little shit. Carry on then, fuck it,” he mutters, trying to slip away.
The zombie spasms and scrambles over a desk, rushing towards Mathew. He attempts to duck under a fallen air duct, but trips over more rubble, crashing onto the glass of another window. The creature groans and lets out a light huffing sound however seems to have vanished as Mathew looks back, panic setting in.
“Agh!…” Mathew lets out, his eyes rolling back in pain. He attempts to get back to his feet and keep crawling towards the door he saw before, however as he moves, the glass beneath him cracks causing him to pause. However before he can breathe, the zombie jumps from behinds a tilted desk, falling onto him and shattering the glass.
“Shit! Gah!” He screams, instinctively extending his hand to stop himself on the edge of the window, however he isn’t strong enough as he and the zombie plummet nearly two stories. Slamming against the corroded wing of a commercial airplane that was sticking out of the building. Giving way under his impact, it slumps to an angle that slides Mumphry onto the top of another nearby building.
Pain courses through his body. His arm is snapped in half at the elbow, his right side covered in cuts and scrapes from the glass shattering. His wrist bleeds profusely, and he lies there, contemplating his fate. “Son of a bitch… this is it,” he murmurs, memories flashing before his eyes.
After what felt like hours, he rolls over and props himself up, watching the zombie flail in the air, having hit the plane’s wing at an angle that ripped it in half, with its top half getting caught in some wires, leaving it dangling just a few meters away. In the sky, beyond the skyscrapers and amidst the lightning, he sees shadows in the red clouds—giants with wings and horns, locked in battle.
He hears banging at a nearby door. “Can’t ever go in peace,” he says, grabbing his nine and preparing for the worst. As the door breaks open, Mumphry is left in disbelief as familiar faces appear. The second group, who had split away from his just a few hours prior. As they stop and stare at him in minor shock, among them, a woman runs towards him.
“Dad!” Anna cries, her voice filled with relief and despair.
Mathew just stares, his wits failing him. His pistol hand drops by his side as he realizes he’s been found.