Opening Sequence

  The sky above the broken city bled crimson, casting jagged shadows across the streets that once bustled with life. Now, only ruins remained, haunted by the whispers of the dead and echoes of songs no living ears should hear. From the hollowed remains of the city square, a towering skyscraper pierced the sky—its windows pulsing with a rhythm that resembled a heartbeat. It loomed like a curse over all that surrounded it.

  Pink emerged from the fog, her armor gleaming with arcs of living electricity. It danced across her magenta exosuit like restless spirits, trailing her every movement with a whisper of static. Her sleek, compact frame moved with intention. Her horned helmet masked her face, hiding whatever fear might have threatened to flicker in her eyes. Her clawed gauntlets hummed with potential.

  Sleek, compact, and built for speed, Pink’s armor radiated with unrelenting kinetic energy. Her vibrant plating glowed with arcing currents of electricity, crackling across her limbs and core like living thunder. The segmented armor, sleek and aerodynamic, was layered with high-voltage conduction nodes that amplified her lightning-based abilities—each pulse of energy dancing beneath her armor like a storm caged in steel.

  Standing shorter than her fellow Fair Ones, her frame was agile and built for close-quarters mobility—perfect for someone who thrived on burst speed and shocking impact. Her visor was seamless and mirrored, hiding her expression behind a sharp, horned helm that channeled lightning directly into her combat systems. Spark-lined vents across her back and calves hummed constantly, venting off residual energy in bursts of violet light, especially when she moved at high velocity.

  The claws on her gauntlets were razor-fine, capable of channeling volts directly into enemy armor. On her legs, bladed ridges helped with traction during rapid directional changes or enhanced kicks, and could discharge static bursts on contact. Her boots crackled with magnetically locked footing, giving her an edge in unstable terrain—except when water was involved.

  She stared up at the skyscraper, lips moving silently beneath her visor. "Let’s see what the Blood Queen is up to today."

  The Approach

  Pink moved like a bolt of purpose through the war-torn streets. As she advanced, a whirring drone descended silently above her, scanning for hostiles. Without missing a step, she flung an Electro Bolt upward, vaporizing the drone mid-air in a sizzling burst of light. The explosion cracked like thunder, alerting every enemy within the block to her presence.

  Undead began to stir. Dozens. Then hundreds. Drawn to the pulse of her energy. But she didn’t stop.

  They came at her in waves—clawing, groaning, snapping jaws wet with rot. She tore through them like a lightning storm. Her fists ignited with current, punching through torsos and skulls with single hits. Thunder Spikes exploded from her boots as she dashed, electrocuting entire clusters. Limbs flew. Heads popped. Smoke and ozone filled the air.

  She was a storm given form.

  The Confrontation

  And then—Juicy a jawless revenant, animated by a thirst not just for blood, but for chaos was waiting.

  Her face a permanent grotesque grin, jawbone ripped clean off, exposing torn muscle and teeth that should no longer be able to clench. Despite the mutilation, she communicates with unsettling clarity through gurgling growls, eerie glares, and sudden, aggressive motion. Her eyes glow with faint remnants of humanity, flickering behind layers of rot and torment.

  The gunslinger stood in the open street beneath a shattered lamppost that cast eerie light across her mangled face. Her trench coat flared as she drew her weapons—twin pistols, finely tuned, gleaming under the red sky. Her jawless grin stretched unnaturally, cracked and full of mockery. A third weapon, a shoulder-mounted laser gun, began to glow softly—warming up.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Juicy didn’t speak.

  Pink didn’t either.

  Juicy opened fire.

  Each shot was a masterpiece of precision. Her bullets sang through the air, pinging off debris with surgical accuracy. Pink weaved through the barrage, moving with such speed her outline became a blur. She darted between burned-out cars and shattered structures, bullets biting inches behind her every step.

  A searing beam from Juicy’s laser gun sliced a line across the air, nicking Pink’s shoulder plate. Sparks flew, but she didn’t stop. She retaliated with an Electro Bolt, slamming Juicy off balance.

  Grenades flew from Juicy’s belt. Pink leapt high into the air, her Volt Shield absorbing the worst of the blast as she flipped and landed behind cover. Her Thunder Spike surged forward, smashing into the pavement near Juicy and sending out an arc of paralyzing voltage.

  Juicy growled, recovering fast, lifting her laser cannon for a final blow.

  Pink was faster.

  She dashed forward in a blur. The shoulder cannon fired once, grazing her side, burning armor but not breaking her momentum.

  She closed the distance.

  Final Strike

  With a roar of energy, Pink’s clawed fist lit up like a lightning rod. She struck Juicy with a brutal Electric Punch—directly into the shoulder cannon. The weapon exploded violently, vaporizing Juicy’s left shoulder and arm in a blinding blast.

  Juicy screamed—a raw, guttural sound—before collapsing to her knees.

  Smoke poured from the remains of her arm. She tried to lift one of her pistols, but Pink didn’t give her the chance.

  One last hit—calculated, clean—sent Juicy sprawling onto the broken concrete.

  When the dust settled, she did not rise.

  Pink stood over the fallen gunslinger, chest heaving. The air around her shimmered from lingering static, the fading arcs of energy dancing like restless spirits. Her armor—scorched and seared in places—remained mostly intact. Just one graze. One.

  She had fought smarter, not just harder. Juicy was quick, cunning, ruthless. But Pink was quicker.

  And the tower still loomed ahead.

  The Blood Queen waited at its peak—sitting high atop that crimson-lit monument like a spider in her web of bone and ruin. Pink’s gaze narrowed. Her hands flexed, charged with residual voltage. She took a single, resolute step toward the threshold.

  That’s when the ground moved.

  No warning. No tremor. Just a sudden eruption of fractured pavement as a clawed, gnarled hand burst from beneath the concrete, reaching for her ankle with astonishing speed.

  Pink reacted instinctively. Her legs kicked backward, and her body twisted mid-air. She flipped—clean and sharp—landing in a low crouch across from the rupture.

  The claw missed.

  But the trap didn’t.

  As her weight pressed into the cracked earth, the ground beneath her gave way. A sinkhole collapsed, snaring her right leg in a jagged mess of concrete and soil. She grit her teeth, suppressing a cry as her thigh twisted under the pressure.

  Across the debris, the creature responsible rose in full.

  He was lean—compact—but his presence was no less menacing. Ash-colored scales wrapped his frame like armor, and long, whip-thin limbs curled unnaturally as he stepped out of the broken earth. His face was narrow, goblin-like, with wide black eyes and an unnervingly calm expression. Digzy.

  Pink had never seen him before, but the energy radiating from him was unmistakable—enemy.

  Without a word, Digzy spread his arms wide, and with a slow, deliberate breath, ignited.

  Flames erupted across his upper body, trailing down his arms in pulsing tongues of fire. The underground heat clung to him like a mantle of rage. He inhaled, neck swelling with pressure—then exhaled.

  A massive fireball, scorching and unstable, surged straight toward her trapped form.

  Pink’s eyes widened. There was no time to think.

  A spark burst beneath her skin as she discharged burst of electricity in one motion—Static Burst activated in a surge of blueish pink, and her limbs glowed white-hot. She snapped her leg free, exploding upward just as the fireball obliterated the space she’d stood in.

  Concrete vaporized. A column of fire stretched up the tower's side, casting shadows that danced like devils on the glass.

  Pink hit the ground rolling, singed but breathing, her armor steaming as she came up to one knee.

  Digzy said nothing.

  He grinned.

  From behind him, the tower doors groaned, then swung open with terrible finality.

  Three shapes emerged.

  Hulking. Twisted. Undead.

  Pinks uphill battle was clear

  TO BE CONTINUED...