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One Shot: The Breach Protocol
🕑 Added 2024-12-17 09:09:52 +0000 UTCHi all,
Here’s another one-shot my muse dreamt up. I decided to go with an American setting, which means I switched to American grammar.
I’m still working on World of Tamers in the background. I almost have the first arc planned out and will be writing it entirely before I start releasing any more chapters for it.
Chapter 1 - Three Strikes
Leon Carter didn't believe in the saying that bad things come in threes. Until the day it happened to him.
The first blow struck at lunch, courtesy of Sasha Ferguson. She'd been his best friend since kindergarten—the radiant redhead who turned heads wherever she went and the lanky comic book nerd who'd loved her from afar. Sixteen years of friendship he was about to destroy in sixteen seconds.
Leon stared at his half-eaten sandwich, his stomach churning. Across the cafeteria table, Sasha chatted about her weekend, tucking hair behind her ear with that familiar gesture he'd memorized years ago.
"Earth to Leon?" Sasha snapped her fingers. "You're zoning out again."
"I need to tell you something."
"Oh?"
"I love you." The words spilled out, his heart racing ahead of his brain. "Not just as a friend. Since seventh grade, when those guys cornered me at my locker and you appeared like some avenging angel, telling them to back off. That's when everything changed. I've kept quiet for years, but I need to know—even if you say no—so I can stop wondering what if."
The french fry slipped from her fingers. Color drained from her face, leaving her freckles stark against her pale skin.
"Leon, no." Her chair scraped back. "All these years of friendship and you ambush me with this? You were supposed to be different!"
"Sasha, please—"
"I trusted you.” Her voice cut through the suddenly silent cafeteria. "I felt safe with you. Do you know how rare that is?”
“Okay, I get it. Now lower your—”
She barked out a laugh. “God, I don't feel even a spark of attraction toward you. How am I supposed to act around you now?"
Snickers rippled through the watching crowd.
Leon opened his mouth but no words came out.
"Save it." Sasha snatched up her bag and left the cafeteria. "You just made everything weird."
"Guess reading all those comics doesn't help with the ladies!" Some guy shouted.
Leon stumbled to his feet, nearly knocking over his chair, jeers following him as he fled the cafeteria. Laughter chased him through the double doors and into the hallway. He ran until his lungs burned, finally collapsing against a wall in an empty corridor.
He wiped his eyes, straightened his glasses, and pushed himself up. The day couldn't get worse.
He walked to Washington Square Park, dropping onto an empty bench. Students rushed past with backpacks and coffee cups, heading to afternoon classes. Leon pulled out his phone, thumb hovering over Sasha's contact. He deleted it instead.
The scene looped through his head on repeat. Sasha's reaction didn't add up. Sure, he screwed up by confessing in the university’s cafeteria—terrible timing, terrible place. But the way she exploded? The Sasha he'd known for so many years would have let him down with a kind smile, cracked a joke to break the tension. They'd avoid each other for a week or two, then slide back into their usual rhythm.
He rubbed his temples. That familiar dynamic was exactly why he'd risked telling her. Now her words echoed in his ears, sharp and venomous, like they came from a stranger wearing her face.
How did he screw things up so easily?
Hours crawled by. The sun dipped toward the horizon, painting the sky in orange and purple. Soon he'd have to head to his shift at the convenience store.
A street performer packed up his guitar across the square. Parents herded children toward waiting cars. Leon checked his watch—forty minutes until his shift started. A perfect distraction to take his mind off today’s mess.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
The second incident wasn’t as traumatic but it piled shit on top of an already shitty day.
Two hours into his shift, Leon's fingers trembled as he rewound the security footage. The grainy screen showed Tommy—the boss's precious son—scooping bills from the register into his pocket. The timestamp matched the missing money perfectly.
Leon's chest tightened. "Look, it's right there. The money I was accused of—"
"I see my son making change." Mr. Peterson jabbed the delete key. The screen blinked to static. "Clean out your locker."
"You can't—"
"I can, and I will." Peterson slid an envelope across his desk. "Your final check. Walk away now, or I promise you'll never work retail in this city again."
He couldn't believe he was taking the blame for someone else's crime. Two years of hard work disappeared due to a father unwilling to admit his son was a loser.
He shouldered through the stock room door, past the whispers of coworkers who'd watched him march to Peterson's office. Their eyes burned into his back.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Leon zigzagged through the familiar brick alleyways, muscle memory guiding him home in the dark. His sister frequently complained about him being careless, but after two years of taking those shortcuts, the worst he faced was an annoyed stray cat.
His phone vibrated against his leg. He pulled it out, squinting at the screen—thirteen missed calls from Sasha. Twenty-eight text messages. Even his gaming group had blown up his phone, asking if he was okay.
Delete. Delete. Delete.
A flash of blue light exploded against brick walls ahead, throwing wild shadows across dumpsters and fire escapes. Leon froze mid-step. The air crackled with electricity, raising the hair on his arms. A circle of light materialized in the middle of the alley, spinning like a carnival wheel gone wrong. Lightning arced from its edges, scorching the concrete.
His legs wouldn't move. His brain screamed at him to run, but fascination kept him rooted to the spot. This was impossible. This was—
Blue smoke poured from the portalway. It engulfed him before he could step back. Leon shut his eyes and bent over, coughing as smoke filled his lungs. He stumbled blindly, one hand pressed against rough brick, the other covering his mouth.
A breath’s worth of time passed before he dared open his eyes, only to see the smoke had vanished.
A high-pitched screeching echoed off the walls. Leon's stomach dropped as he turned back toward the portalway. Two figures stepped through, their height barely reaching his waist.
"What the hell? Goblins?"
The whispered words had barely left his mouth when the creatures' heads snapped toward him. Their jaws unhinged, revealing rows of needle-sharp teeth, and they unleashed shrieks that sounded like shredding metal.
Leon's body reacted before his mind could process what he was seeing. He spun and ran. The creatures bounded after him on all fours, their claws scraping against the concrete with each leap.
The narrow streets twisted before him like a maze. Usually packed with tourists, the alleys stood empty now, the only sound was his ragged breathing and the creatures' pursuit. His lungs burned as he pushed himself faster, desperate to put distance between himself and whatever had crawled out of that portal.
What he'd seen—it couldn't be real. A blue light, the unnatural smoke, and those creatures—
A bottle shattered somewhere behind him. Too close.
He rounded a corner, where a homeless man slumped against the brick wall next to a burning barrel. The flickering flames cast dancing shadows across graffiti-covered walls.
"Get up!" Leon grabbed the man's shoulder. "You need to run!"
The man's head lolled, his breath heavy with cheap whiskey. "Leave me 'lone..."
A shadow stretched across the wall behind him—hunched, twisted, wrong. Leon's grip on the man's jacket went slack.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, and ran.
The man's scream cut through the night, ending in a wet gurgle. Leon stumbled, bile rising in his throat, but kept moving. Up ahead, the alley opened onto a street—safety, people, lights—
A figure dropped from above, landing in a crouch at the alley's mouth. Leon skidded to a stop.
"How the hell did you get in front of me?"
Movement scraped against brick behind him. He spun to find the other creature stalking forward, something gleaming in its clawed hand.
His back hit the wall. In the dim light, he could finally see them clearly—three feet tall, muscled like pit bulls, with skin the color of moldy bread and teeth that would make a shark envious. One brandished a crude knife.
A rusted fire escape hung overhead. Leon lunged for it, fingers wrapping around the bottom rung. Pain exploded through his thigh as he pulled himself up. The knife stuck out of his leg like a sick flag, blood already soaking his jeans.
He climbed anyway, metal rattling with each movement. Claws scraped against the steel below him.
The roof stretched out before him, a maze of air conditioning units and ancient water towers. He made it three steps before his leg gave out. The knife slid free with a sound that made him gag.
The first goblin reached him as he struggled to stand. Leon swung the bloody knife in a clumsy arc. The creature danced back, yellow eyes gleaming with predatory intelligence.
"This isn't possible," Leon panted. "You can't be real."
The goblin's answering grin revealed rows of needle-sharp teeth.
The second creature lunged from the left. Leon rolled, crying out as his wounded leg hit the concrete. The knife slashed the air where his throat had been. He slammed the bloody blade into the goblin's ankle, earning a shriek of rage.
The first goblin pounced, claws raking across Leon's back. He bucked, throwing the creature off balance. It tumbled across the roof, buying him seconds to scramble up. Blood soaked his jeans, each movement sending fire through his thigh.
Metal clanged behind him—an old pipe had fallen from a vent. Leon grabbed it with his free hand, wielding a knife and pipe like mismatched swords.
The goblins circled him, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness. The injured one limped, black blood dripping from its ankle. Its partner chittered something in a language that sounded like breaking glass.
They attacked together. Leon swung the pipe in a wide arc, forcing them back. The knife found flesh—a shallow cut across one goblin's chest. It barely slowed them down.
Claws raked his arm. Teeth snapped inches from his face. He stumbled backward, pipe clanging uselessly against a water tower. The goblins pressed their advantage, herding him toward the roof's edge.
Leon's heel hit the low wall. Six stories of empty air yawned behind him.
The injured goblin charged. Leon sidestepped, shoving it past him. Its momentum carried it over the edge with a piercing shriek. One down.
The remaining goblin slammed into Leon's chest, driving him to the ground. The knife spun away. Claws dug into his shoulders as teeth descended toward his throat. He jammed the pipe crosswise into the creature's mouth.
They rolled across the roof, locked in a desperate grapple. The goblin's strength was incredible, its jaws slowly closing despite the metal between them. Leon's arms trembled with the effort of holding it back.
His fingers brushed something—the fallen knife. With the last of his strength, he yanked one hand free and grabbed it. The goblin's teeth snapped through the pipe.
Leon drove the blade up through its jaw and into its brain.
The creature collapsed on top of him, its blood burning like acid where it touched his skin. He shoved the corpse away, every muscle screaming in protest.
Victory felt a lot like dying.
Leon collapsed beside the goblin’s body, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood—his and theirs—cooled on his skin.
His earlier problems seemed laughable now. Sasha's rejection, losing his job—what did any of it matter when creatures from nightmares stalked the streets?
He raised a trembling hand toward the sky. "Leon Carter has heroically slayed the monsters but alas the cost may be too high.”
The stars wheeled overhead, beautiful and indifferent. As darkness crept into the edges of his vision, one star seemed to grow brighter, pulsing with golden light as it descended toward him.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
A figure peeled away from the shadows, the darkness rippling around her like liquid silk. Moonlight revealed a woman in her thirties, dressed in tactical gear that seemed to absorb light. Her dark eyes assessed the rooftop carnage— blood spatters, the goblin corpse, and Leon's unconscious form.
"Poor sod," she muttered, running a gloved hand through her hair. "Who wanders down dark alleys at this hour?"
She unsheathed a knife from her hip holster. Kneeling beside the goblin, she pressed the tip against its skull. The knife sank through bone with unsettling ease, as if cutting butter. Dark blood welled around the incision as she worked methodically, her movements precise and practiced.
Her fingers plunged into the wound, emerging with a muddy brown crystal the size of a marble. The goblin's corpse shimmered and burst apart like scattered fireflies, leaving no trace that it had ever been there.
"Low-tier rubbish," she mused, examining the crystal. "But you handled yourself well for a civilian, didn't you?"
She turned to Leon and pried his jaw open and placed the crystal on his tongue. It dissolved instantly, leaving behind an oily residue that trickled down his throat. From a pouch at her belt, she extracted a second crystal, and repeated the process.
"Welcome to your first hit, junkie. Trust me, there'll be plenty more where that came from."
She tapped her earpiece. "Alexia, Spector here. Got a new initiate. Another variable portal incident. Two goblins, both neutralised. Messy, but contained."
Static crackled, followed by rapid keyboard clicks. A woman's voice responded, crisp and professional: "Variable portals are getting more frequent. Status of the initiate?"
Spector's lips curved into a half-smile. “Looks like a nerd but he took down two goblins solo."
"Identification?"
She crouched and searched Leon's pockets, pulling out a battered leather wallet. "Leon Carter, nineteen. Student ID from the university.”
"Right then," Alexia said. "You know the protocol. Bring him to medical. Since you found him, you're his assigned mentor."
"Oh, bloody hell." Spector pinched the bridge of her nose. "Can't the leader handle this one? I'm rubbish with this kind of thing—"
"Rules are rules, Spector. No exceptions."
A string of colorful curses escaped her lips.
"Poor lad," Alexia continued. "His entire life's just been upended, and now he's stuck with the most anti-social—"
Spector jabbed the earpiece, cutting off the transmission. "Does she ever shut up?"
She stood, rolling her shoulders before hefting Leon over them in a fireman's carry. Despite his height, she lifted him as easily as a child.
The shadows around them began to writhe and thicken, responding to some unseen command. They coiled up like serpents, enveloping both figures in a cocoon of darkness. When they receded a moment later, the rooftop stood empty.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Leon jolted awake, his hands instinctively raised to fend off attacking goblins. The sterile white walls and antiseptic smell of a hospital room greeted him instead. His racing heart slowly steadied.
He ran his hands over his body, finding smooth skin where tooth marks and claw wounds should have been. Was the whole thing a nightmare? The memory of needle-sharp teeth felt too real.
Leon rubbed his face, then froze. His glasses were missing, but he could see every detail of the room in perfect focus—the grain of the wooden door, the dust motes dancing in the sunbeam, even the small print on the medical chart hanging at the foot of his bed.
A flicker of gold near the ceiling caught his attention. Before he could process what it was, the light zipped toward him. Leon pressed himself against the headboard, but curiosity overcame fear when the light stopped inches from his face.
A tiny humanoid figure hovered there, trailing golden sparkles. Transparent wings buzzed behind it like a hummingbird's. Leon blinked hard, but the fairy—or whatever it was—remained.
He reached out slowly, one finger extended. The moment he touched the light, electricity crackled through him. The fairy vanished, replaced by a floating window of text.
"What the hell?" Leon read the first line and snorted. "After getting his heart broken, Leon Carter couldn't handle reality anymore and created a fantasy world within his mind. He's actually in a padded cell, heavily medicated."
His eyes dropped to the status information below.
=======
Leon Carter
Awakened: Level 1
Level Grade: Poor
Health: 100%
Energy: 100%
Deterioration: 3%
Class: Assign a class (unrestricted)
Weapon: Assign a weapon (unrestricted)
Skills: [Iron Grip Lv 1]
=======
"Did I get transmigrated into some RPG world?" Leon asked himself.
"Not exactly, kid." A woman's voice cut through his thoughts.
The window vanished, the golden fairy zipping back to its ceiling perch. Leon turned toward the doorway.
A woman stood there, so thin she seemed almost translucent in the fluorescent light. Her midnight black hair hung straight as a curtain, framing sharp cheekbones and eyes that held an unnerving intensity. Despite looking like a strong breeze might scatter her like smoke, she carried herself with absolute authority.
"I see you've met your Sprite," the woman said, crossing to his bed with silent steps.
"My what?"
She settled into the chair beside his bed. "Think of them as guides for the awakened. They help you interact with your interface. No physical form, invisible to everyone but their chosen user. No one knows where they come from—they just appear with the system."
Leon ignored the explanation, focusing on more immediate concerns. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"Call me Spector." She stretched, catlike. "You'll get a codename too, once you pick your job. As for location—BREACH headquarters, New York branch."
"BREACH?"
"Bureau of Rift Enforcement and Anomaly Containment Hub."
Leon's fingers traced the spot where his leg wound had been. "Let me guess—this has something to do with that blue portal I saw?"
"Quick study, kid."
"It's Leon."
"Right, kid. Now pay attention—I'm only explaining this once."
Leon closed his mouth, waiting.
Spector leaned back. "Five years ago, governments worldwide discovered we were slowly being invaded. Not with ships or armies, but with portals."
"Sounds like every portal fantasy ever," Leon muttered.
Her glare could have frozen hell. "Don't interrupt."
He mimed zipping his lips.
"Unlike your fictional invasions where monsters charge through guns blazing, these beings are patient. Calculating. They're infiltrating slowly, undermining our world piece by piece. Either they lack the numbers for a full assault, or something's holding them back."
"And BREACH fights them?"
"We're America's response team. Every country has their own version."
Leon chewed his lip, processing. "But how do you fight them? What's with this video game interface thing?"
"Remember that blue smoke from the portal? It's a byproduct of the portal opening. Breathe it in, and you might awaken to the system."
Leon slumped against his pillows. "Perfect. Because getting fired and humiliated wasn't enough for one day."
Something like sympathy flickered in Spector's eyes. "Bad luck, kid. Variable portals are the worst—they can appear anywhere, unlike the fixed positions we usually monitor. You walked into the wrong alley at the wrong time."
"What happens now?"
"No going back to normal life." Spector raised a hand as Leon started to protest. "Not just because we're recruiting you. There's another reason."
That sinking feeling in Leon's stomach turned to lead. "What reason?"
"Check your status again. See that deterioration stat?"
Spector leaned forward, her voice dropping. "The system gives power, but it takes too. Even if you never use it, that number keeps climbing. Hit one hundred percent?" She drew a finger across her throat. "You become one of them."
"A monster?" The word barely made it past his dry throat.
"The irony is, they're also your salvation. They have crystals in their heads that you can consume. They reset the clock. Without them?" She held up her fingers an inch apart. "About a month before you hit critical. Less if you use your powers."
Leon tipped his head back, muttering to the ceiling. "Leon Carter's life is officially over. Forced to fight aliens in some budget Stargate program. Probably going to die before he even gets laid."
Spector slapped the back of his head. "Enough of that."
He rubbed the spot, glaring.
Spector sighed. "You really are a nerd. What class did you get?"
"Class?" Leon pulled up his status. "It says I need to assign one."
Her body went rigid. "What? That's impossible. Do you have any skills?"
"Iron Grip, level one."
Spector grabbed his wrist, yanking him out of bed. "I knew something was off about you, kid. You're not just awakened—you're an anomaly."
"Wait!" Leon stumbled after her, bare feet slapping against the cold tile. "Can I at least get some pants first?"
She didn't slow down. "Pants are for people who follow the rules. You just broke all of them."
So, what do you think? This idea came to me when I woke up this morning and I couldn’t wait to write it down.
Thanks for reading.
Comments
Sliyfer
Always enjoy a good portal fantasy story and this seems like it's gonna be as good as any of your other stories so far, so great chapter and looking forward to anymore you put out
