The morning sun shines through the window, across a messy room, unto the wrinkly bunk. The floor was littered with clothes and books alike. With only the repeated blaring beeps of the alarm echoing through the room, 8:30am, blinking on and off. The bathroom door bursts open and a 19 Year old guy rushes out of it, with his mouth foaming with suds of toothpaste. With haste, he wears his school uniform and topped it with his motorcycle gear. He runs towards the door and leaves the room with a slam. Silence returned to the messy room. The guy returns and takes a key from the door, again he slams the door shut, locking it carefully.
Mike, his name was sewn in on the left side of his chest on his black Jacket. He kicks down on his starter a couple of times, making his old bike cough smoke and its engine fired up, complemented by a rumble. He twists on the throttle and speeds off. Despite looking like the old bike would unravel after a single sneeze, it served its purpose of bringing Mike to School every single day. It was a vintage Ironhead that his great grandfather once rode.
I'm not gonna be late for graduation now, am I? Man, my head hurts, who in their right mind would chug a whiskey?
Mike makes a left turn and into the main boulevard, where he was stopped by the Highway Patrol Group. The patrolman asked the riders and drivers to wait for the convoy to pass. From the distance, Mike could see the military convoy. It consisted of a few Jeeps, Tanks, Trucks, and Missile Carriers.
That's right, how could I have forgotten? The US Military would pass by here to get to the Harbor. I really hope the Eastern War would come to a close soon.
Mike patiently waits for the convoy to pass. Observing the soldiers inside the trucks. They are wearing semi-reflective armor with white coveralls, and helmets with dark tinted visor. Their weapons rested across their chest, the muzzle varies from wide to narrow, its handle is sleek and ergonomic, on its side rested several batteries. Mike whistled while he lifts up his visor to get a clearer view.
The rider beside him nudged him and said, "I'd do anything for those toys."
Mike glanced at him and smiled. The rider continued, "State of the art Laser Rifle. They said it cuts through steel."
Mike shruggs his shoulder, "I saw it on Youtube that Laser Rifles like those are worse than, you know, real guns?"
The rider scoffs, "I guess... Nothing beats a good old bang bang than a pew pew."
Mike shakes his head as the last of the convoy passed by.
"The name's Richard by the way, and you are?"
"Mike."
Richard flicks two fingers from his temple into a lazy salute and smiles as he speeds off with his brand new big bike. From the looks of it, it looks like the new model from BMW. Heavy, and silent, completely powered by Nuclear Energy.
Mike twists his throttle and speeds off. He's definitely late. He passes by the commercial area, oblivious to the fact that the people there were fighting over something important. But to Mike, nothing is more important than this big day, his Graduation day.
A few minutes later, he arrives at his school where he can already hear their school anthem. He checks the time, it was 8:53am.
Great. 23 minutes late. At Graduation out of all times!
He rushes towards his locker to change into his toga. He stuffed his Motorcycle Gear inside, and slams it shut. He runs towards the hall and into the auditorium where the students are. One of the professors saw Mike sneak from the doors trying to get to his seat.
He approached Mike and fixed his collar, "Mike! You've never been late before... What happened?"
Mike scratched the back of his head and nervously laughs, "Sorry, Sir Paul... Drank too much, Military Convoy."
Professor Paul smiles and says, "Go to your seat before anyone else sees you... I'm proud of you, and I'm sure your parents are too."
Mike smiled, yet his eyes were loud with sadness. He hastily snuck towards his seat, and the Headmaster had just started calling their names.
Everything became a blur, Mike sees his batchmates receive their diploma with their parents on the side, taking their pictures. The sounds of cheers, applause, and chatter was muffled to him. Yet he heard his name loud and clear.
"Mike Ritter. Bachelor of Science in Immunology. Magna Cum Laude."
He walked with cadence towards the stage, and received his diploma. He looked unto the crowd, and he saw his parents taking picture of him as he received his diploma. Flashes from the camera flickered across the auditorium. He looked at his parents by the door one last time.
Mom... Dad...
Then, his parents vanished with a blinding flash of light. He winced from the flash, he covered his eyes with both hands, wrinkling the diploma with his grip, he rubbed his eyes to see almost everyone staring at the door. When his vision returned, he saw a rising mushroom cloud from the distance. Not long after, they were hit by the shockwave, shattering the windows and walls alike. Then, black out.