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Biometric Data Accepted. Start Recording.

OK, so I could be thrown in prison just for making this, but I need to document what’s happening. Three years ago I was brought in from the private sector to The Sunsphere. Some kind of military contract. AI work. It seemed routine at first. Getting more out of the AI, making improvements. That sort of thing. Then, ah shit, then one day they show up with the beat to hell mech. And, jeez, this sounds like something out of a movie, but, well, that’s when everything changed.

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Thank you, Commander Hope For The Harvest. These reports are very...promising. It’s a shame that you were not able to get more than baseline responses from the sample, but even that will allow us to explore this matter further. Of course, standard security protocol will be implemented. Now the experiment is over, you will need to dispose of the sample. We are making progress, Commander, slow that it might be. If we are correct, then this could change everything we know about the world. Now, tell me about the rogue agent. What was his name? Venal?

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Many of these worlds had...interesting points of entry, but I spread my influence to them nonetheless. My agent, loyal as always, was my herald of sorts. Setting the gears into motion for my arrival. Every world that has fallen to me already only adds to the coming wave of nothing until it is crushing, all consuming, and unstoppable.

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While they celebrated, lived their tiny lives, I expanded. Put down roots, as they say. Found individuals that can help me with my cause, even got the help of some familiar faces. These worlds do not have what it takes to push me back, most of them won’t even know I’m there till they are gone. Constant noise replaced with... Silence.

February 22nd is and the crew at Follow the Leader will be doing a 24 hour Livestream of ttrpgs to benefit Mermaids in the UK. Watch our Twitter for links and get hype!

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They thought they had beaten me? As usual, their scope was too small. Sure, on one world, in one timeline, they had, but I am so much more. Everything will fall to me. No rag tag group of ‘heroes’ will be able to stand in my way this time. Every world, everything will become what it was always meant to be. Nothing.

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It was, what would come to be known, as the last day of the war for independence. Everyone knew it. The leaders of the planets left in the coalition were meeting with UPRC reps at that very moment. The fall of the Coalition was a long time coming, starting when Mynard Norris pulled his considerable resources out and sided with the Rickies. But our pilot still had to patrol, and as their mind drifted, and their mech too, the loudest noise they had ever heard ripped through their cockpit as a shell tore the steel and composites of the armor to shreds, and as loud as the hit had been, the crushing silence of space that replaced it as their cockpit vented was louder. Panicking, instinct took over. Co-pilot was down. Mech was on back up. Life support was toast. On instinct their hand moved, breaking the glass to signal for help. As the com channels opened, the pilot was greeted with the loudest noise yet. Static.

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The battlefield is still. The dust finally settling and as it clears we see the pink ranger. She is on her knees, the broken form of the silver ranger, her wife, in her arms. Her helmet is off, blood trickling down her face. The wet, weak sounds of the silver ranger can be heard as the pink ranger glances at the locket and the picture of them and their daughter.Heavy footsteps fall behind her as the sharp dressed man who would soon come to be known as Dr. Contemplation approached. The pink rangers expression shifted from grief to to that of steeled resolve. Coughing, the pink ranger, Karen, spoke. “I want to make a deal.”

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An explosion. A heavy hit and the wounds of shattering glass. The silver ranger hits the ground hard, her visor cracked, one panicked eye looking forward. She’s looking, not at the horror coming toward her, but to a locket, splayed open in the dirt. She crawls forward, desperately reaching for the for the open locket that shows us her and the pink ranger in their civilian life, holding a small child. Just as her finger tip touch the sterling edge of it, a foot comes down hard on her wrist, the sharp dressed man it belongs to smirking down at her.

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The smoke clears, the destruction of the battle coming into hazy view. Slowly rising from the rubble, the pink and silver rangers stand, battered but not broken. As the faceless horde of their enemy slowly shuffle through the smoke, Sliver takes Pink’s hand, giving it a small squeeze before the duo dive once more into battle.