A circular portal shimmered into existence with a low hum, warping the space around it like heat waves rising off asphalt. From its glowing core stepped a man dressed in rags, his face shadowed beneath a worn hood. He dragged behind him a young soldier, still struggling slightly as they landed on solid ground. The portal snapped shut behind them with a final.
The man released his captive with little concern, turning his back and walking a few paces toward a twisted tree nearby. The young soldier remained still at first, taking in the unfamiliar world around him—an open forest clearing tinged with alien colors, beneath a sky that was just a shade too deep to be familiar.
"What is this place?" the soldier asked, bewildered. "Did you bring me here just to kill me?" His voice rose. "You should've finished me when you had the chance."
The ragged man chuckled, leaning against the tree with a quiet confidence.
"When I had the chance, huh?" he repeated, voice low and mocking. "Don't flatter yourself, little soldier. I can still finish you off. Anytime."
He raised one hand lazily. A flicker of energy sparked at his fingertips, and suddenly, a small circular portal spun open beneath the soldier's legs. It glowed with a quiet menace.
"Piss me off, and I'll cut off those skinny legs of yours," the man warned calmly. "So don't try to turn this into some dramatic monologue. Cane already beat you to that."
The forest fell into an uneasy silence. Birds quieted. Wind held its breath.
After a while, the soldier finally broke the quiet.
"So... where are we anyway? Home can't be far, right?" He looked up at the strange sky again. "Why does the air feel different? And how long were we inside that—whatever that yellow tunnel was?"
The man grunted. "Few seconds. And stop acting like this is an interview. Just shut the hell up." He muttered something under his breath and facepalmed himself in frustration.
The soldier didn't stop.
"Why would I shut up? You kidnapped me! You literally tore me out of my world, and now I'm stuck—wherever this is. This is madness! This is crazy!"
The man's response was sharp. "We're on Earth," he said bitterly. "Not on purpose. I used the last of my strength to get us here. And I'm not opening another damn portal—especially not back to that cursed place I escaped from. So deal with it... unless you want to pass out from panic."
The soldier paled. "No," he said firmly. "You can't do that!" He exclaimed.
The man turned slowly, his mouth twitching into a smirk.
"Well… I just did."
EFFECTIVE COLLEGE
Students are gushing out of the school like a storm, colliding and bumping into one another. Some, though, get pissed while some just ignore everything because it is not the first time. Who cares? This was school anyway.
"Wait up! Mark, don't you dare leave me behind," A dark, chubby guy yelled behind his friend, who was walking way ahead of him.
"Then you have to walk faster. I don't have all day, Luck." Mark shouted back, ignoring Luck's plea. Sooner, then, he catched up with Mark.
"WOO! That's not fair," Luck said, catching his breath for a second.
"It's okay, I've got you."
"My @$$." He panted as he spoke. He raised his head up to look at Mark. "Have you read the latest Night Howler comics? I'm enjoying every issue so far, the story keeps giving me banger after banger. But there's one issue I have with the writers so far," Luck complained.
"What issue?"
"They have nerfed Night Howler like $#it. It's so annoying," Luck growled.
"But you said you're enjoying everything so far," He responded with indifference.
"I did not deny that, did I? Weakening a character is part of their growth. The story becomes boring if the character is OP. It's only a good writer that can do justice to such a character, and how many good writers do we have left?"
"You tell me," Mark bumped into someone then apologized before he moved out of the way. "How is it going with your own creative comic? You've not given me an update yet," Mark asked, changing the topic. Then he flagged down a bike.
"Taking longer than I was expecting. I just finished drawing 2 pages." He replied then he suddenly raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care anyway? Last time I checked, you showed no interest when I first mentioned it." Luck said.
"At least I care now, huh?" He uttered before hopping on the bike. " See ye," Mark waved at Luck as the bike took off.
The sun hung low over the busy cityscape as life surged forward around them—honking vehicles, chattering crowds, flashing neon signs. Amidst the chaos, the two interdimensional refugees moved through the streets in borrowed clothes.
The young soldier wore fitted black jeans and a designer black t-shirt boldly stamped with "OFF WHITE." His captor had thrown on baggy blue pants, an oversized hoodie, and a bright red cap that made him look more like a tired street artist than a fugitive from another world.
All of it had been quietly stolen from a clothesline behind someone's apartment.
Malik adjusted his sleeves and looked at the man beside him. "I still don't know your name," he said, keeping his voice neutral. "We've been together for hours."
The man didn't look at him.
"It doesn't matter because you and I won't be seeing each other again by tomorrow morning," he replied flatly. "We're not friends. So no, you don't need to know my name."
"I'm not your enemy either," the boy snapped, tired of being dismissed. "I was just following the king's orders. Look... I know you spared me, and I don't understand why. But if you abandon me here, I'll probably die—and that means you will be responsible for my death. Indirectly." He expounded.
"Fine by me," the man replied without emotion.
The young teenager laughed under his breath, bitter and hollow. "You really are a beast… just like they said." Rustle the soldier.
The man stopped walking. His body tensed, shoulders lifting. Slowly, he turned around, eyes shadowed by the brim of his cap.
"Excuse me?" he said, voice cold.
Malik held up a hand. "That's what we were told," he clarified quickly. "My friend and I were recruited two days before we got the order to hunt you. Commander Cane said we were tracking a beast. Some mindless monster." He hesitated, then added quietly, "But the 'beast' turned out to be a man."
The man stared at him for a moment, then looked away.
"Metaphorical," he muttered.
There was a pause, long enough to let the words settle. Then Malik's stomach growled.
"I'm Malik, by the way," the young soldier said with a sheepish smile. "And I'm starving."
The man smirked faintly, for the first time since their arrival.
"At last—something we agree on."
Together, the unlikely pair crossed the street, heading toward a small restaurant glowing in red and green neon on the other side.