Vigilant Vanquish: Apocalypse Awakening

Pursuit of Legends

"Only a few more ladders..." Tom claimed gradually climbing the gigantic antenna tower. "If I can kill those scouts, this height won't stop me now." Yet it does. One ladder off the pinnacle, he perched himself on the rustic railings... The breeze brushed past his face, while the shimmering black gloss of the sky reflected the viridian ambience radiating off the stars like uranium. For once, Tom could get another perspective, the raw beauty of the scenery was unique, he hated to admit.

"Lately I've been losing sleep... Dreaming about the things we could be... I'll be counting stars..." an astonishing melody exited from his mouth while he laid flat on the surface, staring at the celestial bodies floating across the endless ether. Fact. Losing sleep; for the off chance he had a chance, he would be dreaming about the mythical gems, and yet now he's ended up counting stars.

Inspired by his own words, self-confident, he put his trust in himself and joyfully climbed the last set of ladders and reached for the control box. Warily, he unlocked the box, and connected his tablet into it, after a few whizzes of typing and coding... It worked...

Nearly. Forgetting to turn on the power supply, he grabbed the lever and attempted to pull it down. It didn't work. Trying again, he gripped the lever with the confidence he poured into himself, and in a few moments, the energy was force-fed into the antenna tower.

Aquatic waves pulsed outwards before dissipating into the orbit of Earth, travelling around the world. Although it was not needed, the only region known to have survivors was the unknown region. How could it be unknown?

He initialized the microphone, and took a cold cough, before announcing:

"There is no need for me to explain what's happening. We've been raided by these zombified aliens, the so-called URC. They're not the only ones united - we could be. You vigilantes defending the Earth, surviving, are Earth's last hope, and maybe the universe's last hope..."

"There is need for a team of people, with powers that used to rock the Earth daily, to restore the balance of the world. These raiders need to be taught a lesson, and Earth needs defending. So I call you, come fourth and fight together."

"If you choose to accept, come to the co-ordinates sent to you. It's a campfire. If you don't, then remember they grow stronger every second. The only way for you, for us, to grow stronger is together."

"This is the Defender's Initiative."

With another press of a button, the signal was sent. The waiting game started - no ordinary one though, he had a whole checklist to fill: reach location, defeat zombies, setup campfire, defeat aliens, defeat zombies, repeat.

"Now to go back down..." Perilous amounts of ladders awaited his feet, and kept standing by for them. Using his glider - his upgraded one - with the rev of his soul he leaps high into the air and pierced through like a needle in a haystack. SWOOSH!

Suddenly, enemies started trailing his path. The flyby's, winged zombies with no legs or arms, but their body was mainly proportioned to the literally mouth watering mouth. It's black flavouring made it creatively camouflage to the ceiling of the charcoal prison cell.

They had two attacks: a deadly physical attack that cuts through the flesh of anyone so deep that the sharp teeth meet inside as if they're on a date from hell. The other, equally deadly, was the ability to shoot supersonic waves that shatters the ears and causes an unbelievably deafening sound to stick to the ear of the unfortunate victim.

Flocks of Flyby's fluttered fast, chasing Tom like fish to bait. As the Flyby's charged their supersonic waves, Tom equipped his protective earmuffs and performed a deep descent onto the ground.

SCREECH! SCREECH! SCREECH! The destructive waves completely destroyed Tom's ear muffs, and his ears were idle instruments in a band that only works with everyone. What could he do? Willfully, he does a full vertical dive into a little lake - it was a good move, Flyby's can't fly down at speed. They were using stairs while Tom was using an elevator.

Within a matter of seconds, he nearly reached the lake, frightened by what may lurk inside, he does a sharp recovery and regains slight lift to prevent him from scratching the rocky-hard surface. Flyby's had good eyes though. They quickly stopped their vertical descent and starting dramatically drafting towards Tom - it was an incredible showcase of speed - a showcase Tom didn't want to be part of.

Reaching into his utility belt, he grabs a grenade and pulls the string; cautiously cooking the mini-bomb until the time was right...

BOOM! Had he overdone it? Nope, with no seconds to spare, he released the explosive and terminated the swarm. Cackling with many chuckles, he gradually touched down. The unplanned for encounter with the flying death machines caused his path to take many different turns.

Fatefully, to Tom's amazement, he was only a few metres off the location. From his backpack, he retrieved his checklist, and ticked off the first set of kill zombies and reach location.

"Time for stage two." he stated, "This is going to be fun... Time to collect materials..." A new adventure had begin. Firewood was needed, or any type of wood. He already had a lighter, and he needed to find food, his current supply could only last a few more weeks, and he had to prepare for his incoming guests, if there were any.

Scavenging around, he learned that he could extract water from the mushy grass. Using his Survivors Water Extractor, he collected a few bottles worth of water while looking for food and wood.

Meandering through the fields, he eventually found a tree, although corrupted. Using his multi-use climbing claws, he cut the tree down, and located a few more...

SLASH! SLASH!

"That should do it." he thought; immediately switching his thinking to the quest of food. Many of the animals, who didn't have a free will, were left untouched by the URC. After a few minutes of foraging through the nearby forest, he stumbled across a few cows and began to sharpen his blade of steel.

"I'm sorry about this." he passionately said...

He established a fire, and made some rather stunning handmade log chairs out of the leftovers. There were plenty left overs. Actually, the timber was so corrupted that the bacteria reproduced at a rate that was unbelievable. Long story short - one bacteria is burned, millions more are created. It was an infinite campfire.

It was few days of camping. No one had came. Tom thought to question if the satellite signal worked, or if there were any survivors. But then a hustle of the bushed interrupted his sorrow thinking.

A voice asked...

"Is anyone there?"