Brian jolted awake, heart pounding, his body drenched in cold sweat. The blaring alarm echoed across the small bedroom of his rented home. Moonlight streamed through the window above the bed, casting a pale glow over the room.
The holographic clock on the nightstand blinked in faint blue light.
"5:24 a.m., January 3rd, 2070, Phoenix, Arizona."
He dragged himself out of bed, the remnants of his nightmare still clinging to him. The floor felt cold beneath his feet as he stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. Water splashed onto his face—sharp, grounding. His reflection stared back: faint stubble, close-cropped hair, and eyes still haunted.
Hanging beside the mirror was a small metal tag—a soldier's tag—dangling from a frayed chain.
As he lifted his head, wiping the water from his face, his stomach tightened. In the mirror, behind his shoulder, he could see it: the faint silhouette of the metal demon, standing silently in the corner.
"Oh, hell no…"
Brian grabbed a prescription bottle from the counter, popped two pills, and swallowed them dry. The image in the mirror flickered—and vanished into smoke.
"Shit… fuck… fuck!" He cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his damp hair before stumbling back to bed.
His phone buzzed from incoming messages.
Dantonix Tomato: Yo, you up? Meet me at South Park, dude. Heard you're finally getting a real job today. You joking or for real?!
Brain has Brian : Yeah, for real. Give me a bit to shower. See you soon.
Dantonix Tomato : See ya, Mr. Cool 💪
A few minutes later, Brian stepped out dressed in sportswear and sneakers. His red sedan hummed to life, backing out of the narrow driveway. The early morning air was crisp, and he rolled the window down to breathe it in.
The city of Phoenix stretched before him — calmer, quieter than the neon-ridden cities he used to know. Most factories sat far outside the main district, leaving the air oddly still. Few cars passed him on the open road.
He flicked on the radio.
"...as the moon fades, the sun rises—and man cannot escape the cycle of time. Fix your mind upon the impermanence of life—"
Brian groaned and switched stations. A soft classical tune filled the car.
"Time, huh? Yeah… no kidding."
He exhaled and let the music play until he reached the edge of South Park. The sun was just cresting the horizon, painting the sky in orange and gold.
"Alright," he muttered, stepping out and stretching. "Let's warm up a bit."
He started jogging, taking in the clean scent of grass, earth, and the gentle rhythm of his sneakers on patterned concrete. The city felt distant here—almost peaceful.
At around 7:30, he reached the central crossway of the park and paused to grab his wireless earbuds from his pocket. But before he could put them in—
Thud!
He collided headlong with someone. Papers went flying everywhere.
"Ah, I'm so sorry!" Brian crouched to help.
"Oh no, it's fine, I've got it," the woman said quickly, kneeling down as well.
Her voice caught him off guard—smooth, slightly transatlantic-accented, and melodic in a way that stirred something faintly familiar. Her skin was pale, almost luminescent in the morning light; her eyes were an uncanny shade of ruby, framed by long lashes. A few freckles dotted her cheeks, giving her an oddly disarming charm.
Her hair was chestnut-red, tied back in a neat ponytail that swung over her shoulders. A single wisp curved down across her forehead—like it refused to obey gravity.
She wore a flowing vintage-style dress with modern touches, a wide-brimmed straw hat, black-rimmed glasses, and spotless white gloves. There was something both old-fashioned and strangely futuristic about her—and that smile… it was the kind that could melt armor.
"Why does her voice sound so damn familiar?" he thought to himself.