CrystalPunk Chapter 1 | Wrong/Right Chance/Night.

The right chance on the wrong night? Wrong chance, right night? Take your pick.

RECENT EVENTS… (previous chapter)

THE STORY BEGINS… (very first chapter)

The streets of Manhattan were as busy as ever that October night, but anyone could have testified to the indescribable energy in the air. Less than an hour from midnight, the atmosphere was… tense or expectant, as though someone was waiting for an important person at the train station for twenty minutes past the expected arrival time with no word; that anxiety and weight hung over everyone on the island. Were any of the people who remembered that night asked, they’d have felt that some fated encounter was happening at the time- that the right people at the right time would find their way to each other and that fate itself would give way in the process.

None of them would have believed that the grand game for the world with a fourteen-year setting of the board would finally begin with two hopeless teenagers tripping over each other.

“Ohhhhhhh my god! Oh, I’m sorry, I am so, so-” Fansa Tellion braced herself against the cold pavement while babbling apologies incessantly, having crashed into a pedestrian not moments prior.

“Agh, this is the last time I-” Silas O’Reilly righted himself, and stared at the odd girl in front of him. “What are you?” he asked with amusement. Her outfit was simply ridiculous: she wore a leather full-body suit, with a double-breasted leather vest and firm leather pants, with black belts with purple accent points loosely hanging around her entire waist. She wore a freaking white cravat as well, and was cloaked in a black leather trenchcoat with a bright yellow trim that hung off her shoulders like a cape?! Silas had come to know some very important and interesting people over the past year and a half, but at least they all dressed like normal human beings. 

Like Silas himself! He was in his usual baggy hoodie and jeans, his face partially covered by the blue cloth that completed his ensemble. It wrapped around his neck, serving as equal parts hood, cloak, cape, and cowl at Silas’s discretion. He often liked to pull it up over his mouth like a neck warmer to create some physical distance from the world. But of course, the world always had a way of crashing into him like a dope.

“Uh… what?” asked the dope.