BORDERCRY (Massive Crossover x Male Reader)

Chapter 1: Station-13 (Teaser)

1st Person

The platform of Station 13 buzzed with muted activity as commuters gathered for the morning tram. The air carried the usual blend of damp concrete, sizzling food from a distant vendor, and the faint electric hum of old machinery. Most people clutched worn copies of The Daily Bugle, their fingers smudged with ink as they scanned the fabricated headlines—news recycled and reprinted for morale, not truth. One headline read, "Trade Talks with Sector B Falter Again!" Another: "Scavenger Sightings: Danger or Opportunity?"

Y/N leaned against a pitted column, his eyes skimming over the crowd but not really seeing them. He held no newspaper. Instead, he turned to Hau, who sat beside him on an overturned crate, busy cleaning dirt from under her fingernails with a sharpened scrap of metal.

"I had that dream again," Y/N began, his voice low enough to keep the words between them.

Hau glanced up, her green hair tied into a ponytail that swayed with her movements. "The fish dream?" she asked, raising a skeptical brow.

Y/N nodded. "Yeah. I was standing by a creek, and the water was... clean. Crystal clear. No floating sludge, no dead zones. I actually caught one this time—a fish, Hau. Not one of those bulbous, three-eyed horrors we see in the sludge pits. A pure one, silvery, with scales that caught the sunlight."

Hau sighed, tapping her makeshift knife against her boot. "Y/N, it's not healthy to dream about fish. Dreams like that get people killed down here." She turned her gaze to the tram track, where flickering lights signaled the tram's imminent arrival. "Better to dream about something you can actually catch. Like scrap."

Y/N snorted but said nothing. Hau had a point. Station 13 wasn't a place for dreams—it was a place for survival. The clean water of his dreams belonged to another world, one they could only imagine in fractured memories or stolen glimpses of forgotten media. He shook the thought away as the tram screeched to a halt, the doors creaking open with a metallic groan.

Passengers boarded in their usual shuffle, jostling for standing space. Y/N and Hau found a spot near a window, though Hau remained perched on her crate, still polishing her knife. Outside, the window displayed the blurred scenery of a bustling city: streets crowded with honking cars, storefronts bustling with life, and even a dog chasing a boy in a yellow slicker.

"Red Caddy, three blocks up," Y/N said, nodding toward the simulated horizon. "And the girl in the yellow slicker—she's about to trip on that curb."

Hau chuckled softly. "Still showing off your freaky psychic thing, huh?"

"It's not psychic," Y/N replied with a smirk. "It's just pattern recognition."

But just as the girl stumbled exactly as he predicted, the image flickered. The vibrant cityscape twisted into jagged distortions, then vanished altogether. The tram plunged into darkness, leaving only the dim interior lights to illuminate the passengers. A familiar disembodied voice crackled through the overhead speakers.

"Due to technical difficulties, there will be no view this morning," it announced in a monotone, completely devoid of apology, leaving some in the tram groan in frustration.

Y/N sighed, crossing his arms as Hau muttered something under her breath. Through the windows, they could see the truth now: the tram hadn't moved more than ten feet, rolling slowly from one side of a cement wall to another. The "view" was nothing more than a projection, cobbled together from old video recordings and AI-generated landscapes that had long since stopped updating.

The tram doors opened, and the passengers began to file out into the settlement. This was Station 13—a ramshackle town nestled in the bowels of the metro. The vast space was dimly lit by dangling wires and makeshift lanterns, casting uneven light over wooden shacks and patchwork tents. The stairway at the far end led up to the surface—a topside alleyway that housed the settlement's market, a bustling hub of trade where merchants bartered scraps, trinkets, and questionable foodstuffs. Some of the shacks extended up into precarious lofts above the shops, offering prime views of the bustling trade below.

"Home sweet home," Hau muttered as they stepped off the tram. Her voice carried the faintest trace of irony, though she had always been better at hiding her disappointment than Y/N.

"Better than the sludge pits," Y/N replied, though he didn't quite believe it himself.

The settlement housed 126 people, give or take. Some lived in tents scavenged from the old world, their fabric patched and re-stitched so many times they barely resembled their original designs. Others resided in wooden shacks cobbled together from planks, sheet metal, and anything else they could scavenge. The air buzzed with activity as traders hawked their wares, children darted between stalls, and the faint smell of cooking meat wafted through the chaos.

As they made their way toward their usual corner of the settlement, Y/N's mind wandered back to his dream. That creek, that fish—it felt so real. Like something more than just a dream. But here, in the damp and claustrophobic confines of Station 13, dreams like that were luxuries. And luxuries could get you killed.