MTA Jamaica Train Yard, 139-01 Grand Central Pkwy, Jamaica, NY, USA – February 23, 2023 | 04:53 P.M.
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXDkwtj1gxp
Starling advanced across the scorched gravel toward the smouldering impact site in the train yard. Embedded within the crater was a compact escape pod—barely the size of a suitcase.
"That’s tiny. Possibly a baby... or something," she assessed silently.
A sudden, insectile chittering turned her head. A swarm of Biohazards crawled over an overturned, derailed train carriage, scrambling over one another in a frenzy—desperately trying to reach something trapped beneath it.
An arc of electricity discharged from the debris, flinging one of the creatures back. Without hesitation, Starling drove her blade into its skull, killing it instantly. The others ignored her, still consumed by the thing hidden below. From under the crushed metal, she heard faint squeaks—panicked, high-pitched cries.
She snapped her wrist—painful but routine—and drew Jabbawock, her rapid-fire sidearm. In a blink, the swarm was shredded by a hail of bullets, their bodies collapsing in twitching heaps.
As she approached the wreckage, the cries grew more frantic—raw desperation seeping into each sound. She crouched and peered into the blackness beneath the carriage. Silence. Then—
A sudden spark sizzled out of the darkness and struck her head. Nothing serious—except her curls puffed out instantly, resembling an accidental afro.
Starling recoiled. "My hair?!" she hissed, her face contorting into a monstrous expression—half bird of prey, half fury—and dove under the carriage.
"How dare you—"
But she froze.
Before her stood a cub-like creature—upright on its hind legs, no more than two feet tall, its blue-grey fur matted with grime. Its long ears drooped in fear, and its luminous, marble-like eyes shimmered with tears. One trembling paw was trapped in the mechanical shutter of the train’s engine compartment.
Starling blinked and slapped herself across the face, forcing her features to smooth.
"Hey... I’m not going to hurt you. I’ll get you out, okay?" she said gently, inching forward.
But the creature thrashed in panic, yanking at its trapped limb. Starling swiftly raised the engine shutter, freeing it. For a moment, the creature stared at her—then bolted.
It didn’t get far.
She caught it mid-sprint with unnerving speed, her eyes narrowing with a glint of avarice, her grin that of a hunter spotting rare prey. The alien whimpered, shivering in her grip. Starling blinked again, slapped her cheek harder this time, and dropped her expression into a flat, unreadable calm.
"What is this feeling?" she wondered. It unnerved her—an unfamiliar, instinctual protectiveness.
She reached into her messenger bag—retrieved from the Armstrong house—and pulled out a small, hand-knitted blanket. Juliet had crafted it for Georgie; his name was still on the tag. Starling wrapped the cub in it. Slowly, its trembling eased, and it sank into the blanket’s warmth.
So... cute. she thought, biting back a smile.
Her moment shattered as a shadow dropped behind her with a deafening thud. A Raptor—the same one from before—swiped her aside. The blanket and cub tumbled across the ground. Starling gasped as her body collided with another derailed compartment. More Raptors descended from the sky like meteorites, cracking steel on impact.
The lead Raptor advanced as Starling, wheezing, tried to rise. It sparked briefly—electricity arcing across its body—but remained unfazed.
It turned to the cub.
The alien whimpered, burrowing into the blanket, then bolted again—only to be intercepted. Another Raptor snatched it mid-run, tossing the creature into the air, maw wide—
A sickening screech erupted as the predator’s lower jaw split open. Starling stood beneath it, her blade Vorpal driven through the roof of its mouth. The Raptor collapsed.
Without pause, she scooped the cub into the blanket and turned. Dozens more Raptors were descending.
She tied the cub tightly to her chest with the blanket. With her free hand, she raised Jabbawock and opened fire—bullets ricocheting uselessly off thick hide. She slashed with Vorpal—nothing. Not even a scratch.
A Raptor lunged at her—only to be obliterated by Lucy’s warhammer, its skull crushed inward.
"GO! GET OUT OF HERE! I’LL HANDLE THIS!" Lucy roared, swinging again.
Starling didn’t argue. She sprinted toward the nearest train car. En route, she stepped over a conductor’s corpse. A keycard and a physical key were still clutched in his hand. She snatched both and climbed into the control cabin.
Inside, she slotted the card, turned the key, and the train powered up with a mechanical whine. She pushed the throttle to full.
The train surged forward. The sudden movement stirred dormant Biohazards, which stumbled into the Raptors’ path—buying Lucy precious seconds. With a defiant cry, she caved in another creature’s skull. But one Raptor slipped past the chaos, leapt, and latched onto the train as it disappeared into the tunnel.
Starling clutched the cub to her chest. Vein-like tendrils of Entropic Infestation streaked along the tunnel walls, rupturing under the train’s speed. She didn’t notice the Raptor slithering into the cabin behind her, masked by the roar of metal and echoing screeches.
A glint on the console—movement in the reflection.
She turned—too late.
The Raptor lunged. She barely blocked its jaws with Vorpal, but its claws slashed in. It reached for the cub. She caught its wrist with her free hand and drove her boot into the other arm, pinning it.
Locked in a brutal deadlock, she gritted her teeth.
She couldn't afford to lose.
Not now.
The train slammed into an unseen obstruction, jarring violently. The force launched the Raptor backward—catapulting it through the shattered rear compartment—and nearly took Starling with it. She barely managed to seize a handrail, her body whipping to the side as glass exploded beneath her. The train continued its collision course, ploughing through fleshy, vein-like infestations coating the tunnel walls. Then, at last, it shuddered to a halt.
Starling dropped, landing hard. Her back slammed onto a bed of glass shards—she grunted in pain but had the foresight to wear elbow guards. She rolled over, coughing, and saw the Raptor—impaled by a cluster of metal rods—slowly pulling itself free, advancing.
The cub clung tightly to her chest.
She checked it—no injuries. Relief barely had time to settle before she forced herself upright, her regeneration only just beginning to kick in. She limped away, putting distance between them as the train compartment behind her began to collapse. The Raptor surged forward.
Starling reached the emergency exit, wrenched it open, and slammed the door shut just as the Raptor lunged. She glanced back. The beast lost its footing—derailed with the train—and crashed into the debris-ridden tunnel.
Starling emerged above ground at 88-01 Queens Boulevard—Elmhurst Mall.
The mall was a sprawling husk of shattered glass, collapsed signage, and silence. A few retail stores remained half-lit, flickering intermittently with power drawn from backup generators.
She ran blindly through the corridor, scanning the vast space for any place to hide.
A deep roar reverberated from the tunnel behind her.
Starling sprinted up the escalator. On the second floor, she found a group of teenage robbers—probably no older than sixteen—mid-heist inside what remained of an abandoned bank.
“RUN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! RUN!” Starling screamed.
They turned, confused. Too late.
A Raptor burst from the stairwell and tore through them with savage precision. One teen's scream was cut short as his head was ripped clean off. Another stumbled, fell, and clawed at the tiles. “Wait! Wait! Wait!!” he begged—until his chest split open, entrails painting the walls.
Starling bolted into the bank. Using her ESP in quick succession, she unlocked the security door with a mental jolt.
She shut it just in time.
A final robber—seconds behind her—was left pounding on the door.
“Open up! Please! I don’t want to die! Tell me the code! Please—!”
His words melted into shrieks. The walls reverberated with the wet crunch of bone and tendons snapping. Starling froze, unable to move, powerless without her Eidolons—without the strength that once shook cities.
Behind her, the cub whimpered and buried itself deeper into the blanket. She felt it shiver against her.
The screams dragged on.
And on.
Until, finally... silence.
Time passed. Hours, maybe. Starling didn’t move.
The only sound was the low hum of security lights, the faint crackle of power still running through the shattered infrastructure. Her mind was blank. Hollowed.
Then, the cub moved.
It gently licked its injured paw.
Snapping back into herself, Starling climbed onto a stack of money bricks and sat down. She carefully untied the blanket and began examining the cub’s wounds.
“I’m glad I packed that first aid kit at the hospital,” she murmured. “This would’ve gone septic by tomorrow.”
As soon as she touched its injured paw, the cub hissed, pulled away, and stay further away to the edge.
Starling didn’t force it. She let it be.
From her messenger bag, she retrieved a corned beef pie. Originally, she had planned to use it as bait—to attract Biohazards, since hunting Voids in New York is no longer an option.
She tear open the wrapper and held it out. The savoury scent filled the small space. The cub crept closer—cautious but curious—then took a tentative nibble.
One bite.
Then another.
In seconds, it was devouring the meal.
It stared at her, pleading for more.
Starling held up a second pie. “This,” she said softly, “is payment. For letting me treat your wound.”
She pointed to the injured paw.
The cub hesitated—then slowly climbed onto her lap.
She worked quickly. Antiseptic first—it yelped, flinching hard. Starling winced sympathetically.
“I know. It stings,” she murmured. “But I’d rather not amputate your hand.”
The cub resumed eating—slower now. She cleaned the wound meticulously, then wrapped it in gauze and medical tape. The cub watched her fingers, poking at the bandage.
She shook her head. “It has to stay on.”
It blinked at her, then sat obediently in her lap. Starling swept aside crumbs and wrappers, brushing them off the piles of stained cash. She flapped open the blanket again, wrapping the creature tightly to keep it warm.
“You’re not from this solar system,” she said matter-of-factly.
The cub yawned, its ears twitching. It nestled against her, breath slowing.
Starling stared at the creature, her mind drifting.
In the darkness, her consciousness twisted—thorns bursting outward in a bloom of cosmic vision.
A memory. But not her own.
She saw the cub—small as a petal—held within a giant, unknowable palm made of starlight and time. A pair of eyes opened above, galaxies swirling within them.
They looked down at the cub.
And in that moment, within the creature’s fragile frame... she saw a life recorded.
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡNq1MjYOVNw
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2su9HRJC8d
***
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJa5dXxpkhn
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYwSIctk9hr
Somewhere in a Galaxy...Far...Far Away.
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡpOQRWhzzuo
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡehTFRvmVQu
“We are not alone. But we are separated by the vast silence of the cosmos. We may never reach them—nor know if they can reach us. Whoever they are, wherever they come from, whenever they exist... these are the mysteries we are compelled to solve. Because... I want to believe we are not alone in this universe.”
A planet turns slowly beneath twin suns—fraternal orbs, one burning with cerulean fire, the other glowing in muted gold. Alien in chemistry, yet Earthlike in silhouette, the world mirrors our home: deep blue oceans, sprawling landmasses. But here, the green glows more vividly—lush, almost luminous, untouched by industrial entropy.
Its name is Paradise Lost—not a title of despair, but one of sacred origin. The planet is alive: tectonically volatile, ecologically sentient, and imbued with an energy known to its inhabitants as Fundamental Affinity—a primal force as intrinsic as gravity or time.
It is not merely harnessed; it governs reality.
From this raw force emerged a species—not born, not constructed, but manifested: the Fundaemons. Lifeforms of synthesis, their essence shaped by resonance between organic matter and Affinity fields.
Their biology defies human taxonomy. Some slither with massless grace through towering canopies; others prowl on four limbs across polygonal plateaus, exoskeletons pulsing with kinetic hum. No two are alike. Each one is shaped by its biome, its Affinity exposure, its place in the Continuum.
Their civilisation isn’t built—it blooms. Cities sprout like mycelial growths: living, metabolising, even thinking. There is no divide between organism and infrastructure. Buildings take root in both soil and sky, absorbing solar energy and kinetic force from the planet’s rotation. Technology here does not obey—it collaborates, cultivated from the living world.
Energy is cultured, not mined. Even decay serves a function. Refuse is fed into Organovaults—vast subterranean fungal engines that transmute waste into heat and breathable vapour. Public corridors are lined with dense moss-brick walls, engineered with the elegance of Dutch eco-architecture, purifying air while stabilising electromagnetic anomalies caused by Affinity saturation.
But not all zones are safe.
Where Affinity levels spike—within Continuum Fields—reality fractures. Time dilates. Gravity severs from mass. Direction collapses. Memory unravels. Fundaemons born in these regions inherit anomalies: distorted cognition, unstable physiology, or temporal discontinuities. They are rare. Feared. Often isolated.
And now—beyond the planet’s living edge, where its pulse meets the silence of interstellar void—something descends.
Not native. Not of Affinity.
It burns with chemical fire and crude ambition.
It crashes.
It feeds.
A spiralling vessel, a monstrous blade of metal, engulfs a continent. Drones swarm like wasps, carving into forest and ocean. The sky fractures. Fundaemons gaze upward, their serene lives shattered as the Spawns arrive. Initially, Paradise Lost’s ozone shields them, but when the Mothership drills through the atmosphere, the veil breaks.
The invasion begins.
Fundaemons fight. But the Spawns are brutal—corruptive. The war rages like a fever dream, measured not in weeks but in blurred heartbeats.
Those unfit for combat—healers, younglings—go into hiding. The planet tries to shield them. It fails. They are discovered. Slaughtered.
What once was a vibrant field becomes a scorched wasteland, littered with youngling corpses. Heads impaled on pikes now form a grotesque fence along the Continuum border—the only region where Spawns are unable to survive. Most survivors flee there. Those who remain behind are captured, experimented upon. The experiments fail—Spawns cannot assimilate the Fundaemons’ affinity.
The planet weeps.
Ninety-nine point nine percent of life is eradicated.
Extinction closes in.
In the last storm-drenched sanctuary of the Continuum Zone, a dying tribe gathers. Their leader watches the horizon where the sky burns. The Mothership prepares its final assault.
“Sir,” says a Fundaemon resembling a spiked turtle, speaking in their native tongue. “The Spawns are preparing to annihilate us.”
“Is the pod ready?” the leader asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then launch it.”
The turtle-Fundaemon scrambles to prepare the launch platform.
Nearby, a mother cradles her cub, trembling as the ground shakes. The child buries his face in her arms.
“I don’t want to say goodbye to him,” she whispers.
“Nor do I,” the leader murmurs. “He’s the first of our kind born from a living pair. He is hope.”
Together, they walk to the pod. The mother places the crying cub inside. As the hatch begins to close, the child presses his tiny paws against the glass. His parents touch the opposite side.
“Goodbye,” they whisper. “May you find a family. A home. Happiness.”
The hatch seals. Darkness.
The pod launches, streaking skyward as the surface detonates beneath it in a final burst of white light. The last Fundaemons stare upward—toward the hope leaving their dying world.
The Mothership misses the pod entirely.
Something—hidden between layers of space—veils it, like a cosmic hand cloaking it from detection.
The pod escapes, guided silently by a shard of Ænigma.
A new journey begins.
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTxIHTUdud9
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfdGYuzpXD4
***
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3bzLK7uxuI
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYqrkcCS0PI
Starling opened her eyes and looked down at the small cub curled against her, wrapped snugly in a blanket across her lap. Its tiny form trembled faintly, clinging to her warmth. She lay on her side, gently hugging the cub to keep him warm.
“Do you have a name?” she whispered.
The cub gave a soft, weary squeak—an unintelligible string of syllables far too long to pronounce.
Starling smiled.
“I think I’ll call you... Chip.”
She eased onto her back, careful not to disturb the sleeping cub, and rummaged through her weathered messenger bag. Her hand found the diary Juliet had entrusted to her. The cover was worn but intact. A name was written on the first page in elegant ink: Evangeline Weiss.
As Chip slept soundly at her side, Starling flipped through the pages and began to read. The entries chronicled a life lived in Colditz, 1941—until six days later, everything changed.
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡEyP5lMtwGS
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡgZVG0YqjKk
Evangeline Weiss’s Diary – Log #43 November 10th, 1941 | 10:49 P.M.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSZOaSxoEXC
Location: Berlin Safehouse (if you can call it that)
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡokzSn7LNQg
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡSEsUYXE7gd
I should be dead.
We were on that ship—me, Lennox, Kazan, Schrödinger, the Lieutenant—surrounded by monsters that shouldn’t even exist. They call themselves the Spawn of Entropy.
That thing—Ascaris—grabbed me like I was nothing. And honestly? That’s exactly how I felt.
I fought. I tried.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ9KqdtCKWv2
M.J.O.L.N.I.R. was in my hand. I stabbed him. He didn’t even flinch. He nearly crushed my throat like it was glass. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. He twisted my wrist until it nearly snapped. I could feel my bones grinding.
And worse—he turned my own weapon against me.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAovHg3Cn2q
Dragged it down my face like it belonged to him.
I screamed. It didn’t stop him. Nothing did.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡS78rfl6J1K
Not my training.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡU39FnacSwu
Not my powers.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYjn2sb1y9W
Not my faith.
I was just... there. Waiting to be broken.
If Starling hadn’t shown up when she did...54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQflNMhgXH3
No—if my sister hadn’t become something impossible—I wouldn’t be writing this. There wouldn’t even be a body left to bury. Just a stain.
She tore through them like they were made of smoke. Reality bent around her. And then she was gone. Again. Torn away before I could ask her anything. Before I could even say thank you.
I don’t know what hurt more—being helpless while I was cut apart, or watching the only person I needed vanish without a trace.
Starling came back.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRZlOekvwi9
And she left.
Just like last time.
And me? I’m still here. Useless.
Don’t tell me I’m strong. I’ve heard it already—from Rin, from Kazan, even from Schrödinger (and he usually just mocks everything). But facts are facts: I wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t strong enough. Couldn’t even hold on to my own weapon. The only thing I did right was survive long enough for someone stronger to fix what I couldn’t.
I used to think I was chosen. Meant for something divine. A protector. A healer.
Lately?54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxTbRUAz5GO
I think I’m just a placeholder.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ34G8BbH1fr
Someone the universe forgot to finish.
That moment plays over and over in my head—Ascaris holding my blade to my eye. And me? Frozen.
Now we’re in Berlin. But this isn't the Berlin I grew up hearing about. The Reich is no longer human. Their machines hover in the sky like metal ghosts. The SS stalk the streets. And we’re here. Spying. Again.
I should be furious.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFahDlbmMPt
I am furious.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡc29SFqpTfM
But mostly... I’m exhausted.
Tired of losing people. Tired of surviving only to feel powerless. And... I’ve lost my powers. They’re gone.
But I’m not done.
I want to fight. I want to be the one who saves someone for once.
If the Spawn want this planet—they’ll have to rip it from my cold, dead fists.
I don’t care how many galaxies they’ve devoured.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7I6IRpul4o
They’re not taking this one.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡTu9Er1dZgx
Not if I can still move.
Tomorrow, I train harder with Dr. Neumann. He says he’s an engineer for NIX Corp. I don’t know what to think about him yet—but questions can wait. I’ll get my answers soon enough.
I’ll fight smarter.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡsMtj7PpoUy
No more hesitation.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRf1oUdHw1t
No more fear.
Next time, I’ll be the blade—not the target.
And when I have that monster by the throat?
I won’t let go.
Starling... wherever you are... if you're reading this—54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBgbIwTB4NO
Today is my twenty-second birthday.54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYVtuFDbGig
Wish me a happy birthday.
— Evangeline Weiss
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDqQ4O12dyV
54Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLFfmqOOwCq
Eva closed the diary and let out a quiet sigh. The sun had long since set. Dusk painted the room in soft twilight. The scar across her face shimmered faintly, translucent yet crystalline—almost like a gemstone catching moonlight.
Constantine had been healing her since she regained consciousness—gentle, patient. Schrödinger hadn’t left her side the entire two days she'd been unconscious. He now slept curled atop the nightstand, paws twitching in dream.
Eva tucked herself into bed and reached for the lamp.
Click. Darkness.
Then, a whisper echoed through the room, almost spectral.
“Happy birthday... Evelyn.”
Starling voice is faint but everlasting.
Eva’s eyes widened. Tears welled.
She smiled.
ns216.73.216.238da2
