Callia floated in and out of consciousness, her body was wrecked inside and out, it felt feverish burning as deep within as her nerves. Hot ambient heat. Sensory pain itching, her eyes felt like they were being clawed out.

  She found herself in an empty space, her cloth wrapped fingers reached out, into the darkness, reaching out to something that was calling her name over and over again.

  Callia!

  Gunfire erupted everywhere. The thudding of hundreds of bodies dropping next to her, the smell of burnt circuitry as she found herself in the depths of an unknown realm.

  [Wake_uuuuuu//p!!!]

  A screen flickered in her vision—jagged, corrupted text crawling across her sight, stuttering like a dying signal. The world slowly snapped back, and she found herself falling from this strange place.

  She made a horrible attempt to move herself. She felt stiff sheets wrapped around her, the humming of something electric inside the room, antiseptic chemicals assaulting her nostril sharp and nonstop.

  Her eyes fluttered open. Hollowed, irregular beeping, beside her, it irks her to move her stiff neck. The first thing that came to mind was the sterile smell of the air. Her limbs felt numb, very numb, like she was drugged with endless amounts of narcotics.

  Her eyes blinked in pain, she moved her arm, slowly to remove the gunk of rheum from her eyes, wet liquid, freeing itself. With the hardened crust gone, she was able to see better. Something was way off. Beyond the fact that she could remember fuck all, she stared at her chest, she was bare, almost naked kept under a thin robe.

  She lifted the robe off her body, there in the center, was a surgical scar about the diameter of a bullet. She touched it and pain flared up. A hole, but how. She struggled to remember

  The scavenger had shot her. Then she started bleeding out. Callia let go of the wound. Her vision blurred again and she stirred.

  Her throat was dry, she’d kill for something to drink.

  Kill.

  Her pulse quickened, it was all she seemed to know. Her immediate thought It was like it was all she could remember deaths and kills, murders. Bodies dropping, her brain worked itself as she struggled to recall the events of the previous day. She had woken up in some metal cage–no, a pod. Forced her way out, nearly got killed several times only to be shot by a gun. None of the three gave her much of a choice… She had been pressed, but the younger boy had run away…

  She took in her surroundings, bright beeping lights greeted her on the machines next to her, there were pipes next to, harsh fluorescent lights flickered, something was circulating the air, it was relatively cool. Comfortable.

  The sheets next to her cool. Mattress thin, but weak. Restraints? Next to her, but it wasn’t made use of. She lay in the small room for a while. Then she noticed the mirror. Callia perked up, staring at herself. She was fair-skinned, and had crimson hair. Her eyes were sagging, of tiredness, her cheeks were hollowed out, she was beautiful if that wasn't egoistic. A part of her looked really messed up, it didn’t help that her long hair was messy and untied.

  Sharp, deliberate heels, waltz over several meters away.

  Click-click-click.

  Where the fuck was she? How did she get here? And why could she recall nothing?

  A shadow moved near the door, the shoes were different and the walk speed slow. He hummed to himself–his voice calm, disinterested.

  Instinct kicked in as he neared the door and Callia panicked. She moved–way too fast, her body hardened by her strained muscles, immediately kicking into adrenalin.

  The door hissed, with a sharp zip, open. A figure stepped in, a male, with a lab coat, carrying a data pad and a large needle in the other hand.

  "And, patient number 0461, let’s see how you are doing this mor—"

  He stopped, his face seemed to turn blue, he forgot how to breath. They locked eyes, staring to each other’s gazes. He froze, and she was sitting wildly like an agitated tiger. Her eyes settled on the fluid in the Comically large syringe, mystery liquid, strange.

  Meant for her.

  Panic and paranoia took a hold of her, the thought of being sedated against her will, irked her. The needle, it was an unpleasant trigger. She had to defend herself.

  Callia lunged at him, her bare feet slapping against the chilling floor. She dragged him by the collar, then came impact immediate–as they collided with the wall.

  She presses her skin tight against him, and he tenses. Sweat trickled down his face and unto his neck. She could feel his pulse hammering against her palms as she held him down.

  “Where the fuck am I?”

  "Bu...bha—" he stuttered, unable to form a coherent word. Mute. He couldn’t fight back, but she did not relent.

  Then her panicked had ‘doubled’. She became furious for no reason other than she could and those nerves, the psionic ones, the psychic abilities, they flared up widely. And her world nearly fractured apart.

  She’s in another place again. A burning city. A dying civilization. Voices calling everywhere through static. She was given orders…orders to do something. She did not obey.

  The man started wheezing, he tried resisting but ended up sniveling. A darkened, wet stain spread across his pants, as he stared at her in fright.

  Heels came sprinting down a hallway, stopped and slid into the door. As it swung open, the first thing she saw was a pistol. A woman had rushed inside--erratic and unreadable, the gun hummed in the grip of the gun, heavy. Callia turned her attention to the woman, staring her down. Confused, she waited out her reaction.

  "Let him go now!" she demanded. "I’m not going to ask you again."

  The man choked a plea as they spoke. “Please, please…I have a little boy, you can’t…You can’t…”

  Callia loosened her grip. She didn’t know why she had complied, but she did. He could have been lying, the woman could have been bluffing. She stuttered through her breathing. Furthermore, she was at the crossroads, not knowing where to go with this situation. .

  She gave over her grip.

  Several things went over her mind. Why did she do this, why’d she react this way upon seeing the needle, she couldn’t explain?

  The man, crouched, moving away from her as far as possible. He ran out of the room shortly after, in full metal panic. The woman, uneasy, she kept her gun on her pointed, finger on the trigger, then grabbed a long syringe from one of the drawers.

  Callia had stumbled backwards. The room titled a bit, her head was turning up on the inside. The lady never lowered the gun, taking small steps forward to her opposition.

  A flash of silver—a syringe. She injected Callia with it. Callia didn’t resist, fearing the stopping power of a point blank round.

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Hey! What are you doing!?”

  Her adrenaline had immediately spiked, so too did the psionic flare up. The room shook. And he head went on a ride. The doctor stared at her. Calculating Callia’s response. Pondering whether she should have already dropped her already.

  The doctor stared at Callia as though she was inhuman, a beast, a monster.

  She slammed her head against the wall, as the brain fog invaded again. It was all weightless. She had nothing to base these off.

  Her own voice sounded distant.

  “A ploy so you can take advantage of us,” the doctor raised the gun, bringing it up to her face.

  A surge of anger slices through the haze. “I said I don’t remember. Alright! ” purple flooded the room again. Objects started flying everywhere, like the room was possessed.. The psionic power came with strong emotion.

  The doctor's face turned into one of fear, she lifted her brow. “You're a fucking psyker?”

  “A what?”

  The Doctor leaned backwards gun still in her hand, she didn’t let it go, but she appeared to be in the process of rationality, she lowered her gun, gesturing for Callie to calm down. “Listen to me! You’re unstable right now, ease your emotions breathe in deep, then settle down.”

  “I… I can’t. I can’t control this rage.”

  “You’ll have to, or you’ll leave me no choice.” Her finger twitched on the trigger of the gun, a split second away from sending Callia to the afterlife. “I have to defend myself, and my assistant, it isn’t personal.”

  Callia winced, she tried settling, but the strange rage, it still resided in her, driven by psionic energy. She took the breath she was advised to, the purple energy slowly eased away. Callia calmed. Then so too did the doctor.

  “If you want to address the issue at hand, then please calm your visible tits, right away.”

  Callia stared below her neck, in her rage and fury, she had torn open the robe with her psionic rage. Callia took a deep breath, closed her eyes and listened.

  “Well, will you learn to calm down so we can address the issue on at hand.” she spat at the ground. “This is the thanks you get for being a Samaritan. Saved several fucking lives and half of them wants to fucking kill you when they wake!”

  Callia bowed her head. “I’m sorry, I’m in a strange position. I don’t know what came over me.”

  "That’s no excuse. Fucking quests… Going to get me really dead one of these days.”

  “Quests?” Callia asked dumbfounded, her nerves relaxing , she reacted irrationally, unstable. She knew that it was a mistake, one too late to regret.

  “I found you half-dead in the Wastes.” The doctor said. “You were barely clinging on to life, someone shot a hole through, luckily it missed anything vital. Had to stitch on some synthetic skin or else some of your blood would be oozing out.

  Callia listened, rigid, but absorbing every single word. Synthetic skin, the Wastes, quests.

  Synthetic skin huh. She put her hands through the ruined robe, and touched the spot with the surgical marked near her stomach. She winced, it still pained.

  “Yeah, that pain ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon.” The doctor dropped, annoyed. “I’m a scrap doctor, or a lifejacker. I fix ungrateful people like you because it’s the duty the system had laid out for me.”

  Callia raised her brow. The system, the second time she had heard about it.

  “The system? What is the system? Corporate system? Military system? Solar system?”

  The scrap doctor, had a light smirk,

  Callia jaw clenched, she was out of the loop and that irked her.

  The doctor accessed her closely. “That armor I found on you, the burning ship from the sky, your amnesia and that fact that you blatantly attacked my assistant, without logic or reason. You’re not from this planet, are you.”

  Callia’s stomached twisted, she recalled descending from somewhere. Of course. The pod, It would explain all the other dead bodies and people she saw.

  The doctor’s gaze hardens.

  Silence. A chill down her spine? Her breath catching? A cold, creeping realization. She was not only outside this world, she was considered hostile, for whatever reason, this ‘system’ had taken mercy on her.

  “If it wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here,” the scrap doctor remarked.

  She gave her through stare. “But you overstayed your welcome by having the manners of a child.”

  She stepped closer, her patience seemed to be gone, but she kept the gun close. The doctor pressed herself against Callia, her face milimeters away, against hers, foreheads meeting.

  “You’re alive because of me! Callia,” she narrowed her eyes. Bringing her voice to down to a low murmur. “If that is even your real name.”

  Callia was in a shit spot, but she wasn’t going to allow herself to be bullied. “Yeah, what do you want me to do about it?”

  “That means you owe me. I scrapped what I could off your armor to pay for your medical needs.”

  A cold weight settles in Callia’s gut. A debt. Already. Somewhere, she didn’t even know where she was. It was a death sentence, she had nothing on her, nothing for her.

  “You can’t seriously expect an amnesiac to pay you back.”

  The fuck, I can’t,” The doctor scoffed, “You’ve already cost me thousands. The rewards the system gave were a miniscule gain, I have a business to run.”

  Callia frowned. “Business, I thought–”

  “You thought what, that I was a fucking hero, that this was a hospital.” she snapped her fingers. “ Tough luck, Ms. Red.”

  “But–”

  She gestures outside the room.

  Callia clenches her fists. She could always force her way out from this woman, the woman who saved her life, was vulnerable. No, that would beyond messed up. Even so, it felt unfair, she just had to defend herself now, she was being thrown around.

  The doctor pulls her gun, she opens one of the room’s wardrobe closet, threw her a pair of slippers, and a hospital gown at Callia, then showed her way to the door. “Get dressed, before I assume you’re something you’re not.”

  Callia scrambled. Stripping herself, the doctor didn’t mind that she was naked..

  “I was going to be lenient with you, but no good deed goes unpunished.” she said relunctantly

  “What do you mean?” she asked, half naked.

  “What else, I thought you were a cut above the rest, I guess appearances can be deceiving.” she bit her lip. Get the fuck out.”

  What!

  Callia swapped the clothing, ignoring the furious stares of the scrap doctor. Night gown and some slippers, nothing else. Practically bare.

  The doctor pushed her outside, the room into a hallway, several more closed of chambers resided next to her wake point. Lines of red light indicated that they were off limits or closed.

  The scrap doctor doesn’t waver. She pushed Callia further to the front door, the slide door hisses, as it open, pressurized air hissed as it open, and the immediate glow of outside neon lights greeted her.

  Callia took one long look at the woman. Platinum blonde hair, maybe a bit older than she was , a surgical scar near her neck.

  “Five days.” She said, cryptically. “My debt.”

  A notification pings across Callia’s vision.

  Callia blinks as a digital screen popped up in front of her eyes.

  [System Alert: Mandatory Quest – Outstanding Legal Debt]

  Time Limit: 5 Days

  Debt Amount:Debtor:Reason:

  Reward:Failure to Comply:

   Quest cannot be declined.]

  “That’s your jail sentence. Or your death sentence. Pick your poison. Either way. Pay me back, or you’re the authorities' problem, I heard they're looking for live survivors of that crash. Good luck soldier.

  Callia blinks. “What the fuck is this.”

  Kara Maris, gave Calla on long stared before slamming the door slides shut, it made a loud peeping noised, a display peeked in front of her face.

  She wondered what it was. Pity or cold indifference.

  [Locked]

  Callia’s chest tightened, she was in a strange place, with an executioners bill. She locked her legs, squeezed together. Then moved back half a step,

  Callia spun around. Staring at the slum before her. Neon-lit lights illuminated every corner of the street, buzzing like wild hornets. People were bustling about, pushing against each other in large crowds. Smog choked the night sky. In the far distance, long stretching skyscrapers, displayed ads in real time display.

  The street next to her was alive–drones were humming above the air of the slum, crowds were shifting, and what looked like drug dealers moved from point to point exchanging shit. Voices were rising and falling, failing like a chaotic choir. She swore she heard a blood-curdling scream kilometers away.

  Then came the smell, it reeked, people were unwashed, burning chemicals in trash containers to keep warm. Sewage corroded around her, half fixed pages, electricity buzzes from a maligned portable station of sorts breaking because of maintenance.

  She starts moving with her weak slippers, it wouldn't last long in this terrain. Two massive things caused a sense of megalophobia in her. The moon of whatever planet she was on was broken, half of it fractured, hovering the near it’s core like an asteroid belt.

  In the other direction from where she stood, A Giant dome, easily as tall as the sky skyscrapers but as wide as several stadiums. With illuminating emoji face patrolled the city with its eyes. It turned, settling on her.

  She shuddered, fearing its gaze. What is that? Why is it staring at me.

  [Hello Callia; Welcome to Sol-77B or, as we like to call it, Echo Earth.]

  Her head dropped, and she started walking away, as she did so do its gaze.

  A newsfeed nearby, attached to a billboard, displayed itself for the whole street. It was a bit away, but she could make out words.

  Wreckage still smoldering in the Outer District.

  Unknown casualties—

  Preliminary reports suggest…. A thousand–

  A burning ship. Falling.

  Invaders.

  [System Alert: Mandatory Quest – Outstanding Legal Debt]