Episode 1: The Man who broke the World

Mac Travers did not wake up in a military base, a briefing room, or anywhere that suggested discipline or responsibility, because he was lying on his back in a narrow bed that was not his, staring up at a ceiling covered in glow-in-the-dark stars that had been stuck there years ago and never taken down.

He blinked once, then turned his head slightly to the right.

A young woman lay beside him, still asleep, her hair spread across the pillow, one arm resting across his chest as if she had decided at some point during the night that he was not allowed to leave without permission.

Mac looked at her, then at the arm, then back at the ceiling.

Mac Travers: Alright...let's think about this.

He carefully lifted her arm just enough to slide out from under it, moving slowly so the mattress would not shift, and for a moment it looked like he was going to succeed.

Then she stirred.

Her eyes opened halfway, unfocused, and she squinted at him.

Woman: You’re leaving?

Mac froze, one hand braced on the edge of the bed.

Mac Travers: I was going to make coffee!

She stared at him for a long second.

Woman: You don’t drink coffee.

Mac: Yeah...yeah I sure don't.

She gave him a tired, unimpressed look, then shifted closer and rested her head against his shoulder.

Woman: You’re bad at this.

Mac Travers: I’m actually very good at this. You’re just catching me on a technicality.

She closed her eyes again.

Woman: I understand. It's a big day. Mission day, right? Stay for five minutes?

Mac let out a quiet breath and leaned his head back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling again.

Mac Travers: Sure. Five minutes.

There was a beat.

Then the room changed.

The glow-in-the-dark stars flickered once, not dimming but shifting slightly out of alignment, and a low hum built in the air, deep enough to be felt in the chest before it was heard.

Mac’s eyes narrowed.

Mac Travers: That’s new. Did you feel that?

The woman did not respond.

Mac sat up immediately. He definitely saw it and felt it. A feeling he'd never felt before, like a ripple through his very soul. 

Mac Travers: Hey. Hey! You awake?

She did not move, happily asleep once again. 

Mac Travers: ...You get some sleep. I have to go check this out. I have a feeling the mission is getting bumped up a few hours.

The sky above the operation zone was not dark, and it was not quiet, and it was not empty, because it was filled with aircraft, contrails, missile bursts, and the constant thunder of engines pushing past their safe limits as two opposing forces fought for control over a single point in space that hung like a wound in the atmosphere.

Mac Travers kept his eyes locked forward as his fighter cut through the chaos at high speed, the cockpit of ORGUSS Unit-01 vibrating under the strain of rapid acceleration while warning indicators flickered across the display in tight clusters of yellow and red. The machine responded to his hands with precision, but it was not tested for a battle like this. The experimental aircraft had not been given a chance to be tested. It was made to be the most advanced piece of hardware available for a mission that could potentially save the world. This mission. 



Mac Travers: Command, this is Travers. I have visual on the target structure.

The voice that answered him came through clearly, without panic, without hesitation, and without sympathy.

Command: Copy, Travers. You are cleared to proceed. Deliver payload directly into the core and disengage immediately.

Mac narrowed his eyes as the target came into full view.

The machine generating the gravity well did not resemble anything built for conventional warfare. It was enormous, suspended in the air by its own field, with rotating rings that spun at different speeds and angles, each one pulling debris, clouds, and even distant aircraft slightly out of alignment as the space around it distorted under increasing pressure. The air itself bent visibly near the center, creating a warped lens effect that made distance difficult to judge.

Mac Travers: That thing is already active! I knew it! Command, you owe me an apology! I knew they started it up already! If it stabilizes, they’re going to punch straight through!

Command: We are aware. That is why you are there. Orguss Unit-01, a Super Dimensional Aircraft capable of getting close enough to stopping the enemy from creating their gravity well into the theoretical Sanctum Space for endless energy.

Mac exhaled once, steadying his grip.

ORGUSS Unit-01 responded immediately to his input, its control system reading the subtle tension in his hands and adjusting its flight posture accordingly as he dropped lower, slipping beneath a formation of hostile aircraft that broke apart to pursue him the moment he entered their range.

Missile lock warnings screamed across the cockpit.

Mac did not look at them directly.

He rolled the craft sharply to the left, then cut thrust for half a second, letting two missiles overshoot before reigniting his engines and accelerating upward at a steep angle that forced the remaining locks to break as their targeting struggled to compensate.

Mac Travers: Still with me, Orguss?

The distance to the gravity well closed rapidly.

The closer he got, the worse the distortion became.

Clouds stretched and compressed as if pulled by invisible hands, and pieces of debris that should have fallen instead drifted sideways or held in place, caught in conflicting gravitational directions. Even the horizon appeared slightly curved in places where it should have been straight.

Mac adjusted his approach manually.

The autopilot could not handle this.

Command: Travers, you are entering the unstable field. You need to initiate the next stage now.

Mac Travers: Not yet! I can't let them see what this can do until I'm right up on it! If I drop it early, the blast won’t reach the core. I need to drive this right up its-

Command: You are beyond the tolerance limit! 

Mac Travers: I know exactly where I am. You'll have to tolerate that. I know what I'm doing!

A long pause followed.

Command: ...Proceed.

Mac pushed forward.

ORGUSS Unit-01 shuddered as it crossed the threshold.

Mac’s eyes locked onto the center of the generator as the distance closed faster than the instruments could reliably track, and for a brief moment he stopped trusting the numbers entirely and relied on what he could see and feel through the frame of the aircraft.

The core was not exposed in a way that would allow a simple payload release to reach it, because the rotating rings created shifting gaps that opened and closed in uneven intervals, and the gravity distortion around them would drag anything off course before it could reach the center.

Mac Travers: Good. So we’re doing this the hard way.

He flipped the guarded switch on the console.

Mac Travers: Orguss, initiate conversion!

For half a second, nothing happened.

Then the aircraft responded.

The frame of Unit-01 shifted around him, not violently, but with controlled, mechanical precision as panels separated and rotated along predetermined tracks. The wings folded inward in segmented sections, the nose retracted and split, and the lower fuselage extended as internal components reconfigured into a vertical alignment.

Mac felt it through the controls.

The cockpit rotated with the transformation, locking him into a new orientation as Orguss stabilized in its humanoid combat form, suspended in the distorted airspace just outside the rotating rings.

Mac flexed his hands once on the controls.

The machine responded like an extension of his body.

Every input translated directly into movement, more immediate than flight controls, more precise than anything he had trained on.

Orguss advanced, stepping through the air in controlled bursts of thrust as it closed the remaining distance to the generator. The rotating rings loomed in front of him, each one spinning at a different speed, creating a constantly shifting path toward the core.

Mac watched the timing.

Mac Travers: Alright...open...close...open...

He moved on instinct.

ORGUSS surged forward between two rings just as the gap aligned, the outer edge of one passing close enough that Mac could see the surface distortion ripple across its structure like heat over metal.

Mac Travers: Whoa! My timing is lousy! Better adjust!

The next gap shifted.

He angled right, then down, threading the machine through the rotating structure with movements that felt more like slipping through traffic than navigating a battlefield.

The core was directly ahead now.

Up close, it was worse.

The glowing sphere pulsed with contained force, each expansion pushing against the surrounding space before snapping back inward, and the air around it bent visibly, making the edges of the sphere appear unstable, like it could shift position at any moment.

Mac reached for the payload release.

System: Payload ready.

Mac Travers: Yeah. I see it.

He extended the right arm of the machine.

A compartment along the forearm opened, revealing the explosive device secured in a locking cradle.

Mac Travers: Command. I’m in position. Setting the charge manually.

Command: Confirmed. Set the fuse and disengage immediately.

Mac’s eyes flicked to the timer display.

Standard detonation delay: 30 seconds.



Mac Travers: Thirty seconds. That’s tight, but I can make it.

He guided Orguss forward the last few feet, fighting the pull of the gravity distortion as the machine resisted, every system straining to maintain position.

The arm locked into place against the outer edge of the core.

Mac Travers: Charge planted! Fuse set to thirty. Confirming—

Command: Negative.

Mac froze.

Mac Travers: ...Say again?”

System: Override accepted.

Command: Fuse adjusted to five seconds. Get out of there, now.

Mac’s head snapped forward.

Mac Travers: What?! Five seconds? That’s not enough time to clear the rings, let alone the field!

Command: It is sufficient.

Mac Traver: The hell it is! Don't do this! 

Command: Mission priority is destruction of the gravity well generator.

Mac’s grip tightened on the controls.

Mac Travers: And what about the pilot?! What about Orguss?!

There was a pause.

Command: You have completed your objective.

Mac Travers: Oh dammit.

Mac stared straight ahead at the glowing core, the charge now locked into place against it.

The timer on his display shifted.

5...

4...

Mac pulled back on the controls.

Orguss responded instantly, thrusters firing as the machine began to retreat, but the gravity distortion fought him, dragging at the frame, slowing his movement just enough to matter.

Mac Travers: This isn’t enough distance! I need more time!

3...

Mac gritted his teeth, forcing Orguss backward through the nearest gap as one of the rotating rings shifted dangerously close, clipping the outer edge of the machine’s shoulder and sending a jolt through the entire frame.

Mac Travers: Move Orguss! MOVE!

2...

The exit path twisted.

The distortion increased.

The gap he had come through was no longer aligned.

Mac shoved the controls forward, then to the side, trying to force a new path as the structure shifted around him.

Mac Travers: Come on! COME ON!

1...

He was still inside.

The explosion triggered.

The core did not erupt outward.

It collapsed.

The light at the center intensified beyond anything the cockpit could filter, and then it snapped inward, pulling everything around it toward a single point with impossible force.

Mac’s eyes widened.

Orguss was caught in it instantly.

The machine jerked forward as the force grabbed it, every system spiking as the structure of the generator tore itself apart, the rotating rings breaking alignment and twisting under competing gravitational pulls.

The sky fractured.

Not visually, but structurally, as if multiple layers of space had been forced into the same location at the same time. The horizon split into overlapping lines, and distant objects appeared in multiple positions before snapping back into unstable alignment.



Mac felt it.

Not just through the machine.

Through himself.

The force intensified.

The world broke. 

Mac Travers woke up choking on dust and the sharp sting of burned circuitry.

For a few seconds, he did not move. His ears rang with a high, electric whine, and every part of his body felt like it had been slammed through concrete. He lay on the ground. Somehow...he was on the ground. 

Mac groaned and forced his eyes open wider. 

Mac Travers: Okay. Not dead. Step one. Huge win.

He grabbed at the ground beneath him, and slowly pulled himself up. He looked around and saw no sign of Orguss. Not even wreckage. 

Mac Travers: This is not a landing. This is...a miracle? A bad joke?

He turned, finally lifting his gaze to the horizon.

And then he froze.

The world stretched out before him in a way that made no sense.

Massive landmasses collided in the distance, entire continents seemingly stitched together without regard for geography or logic. Jagged mountain ranges cut through what should have been flat plains, while oceans curved in unnatural arcs, as if gravity itself had been bent and reassembled. In the sky, faint fractures shimmered like cracks in glass, glowing softly with colors that did not belong in any normal spectrum.

Floating islands hung in the distance, casting long shadows over terrain that shifted from desert to forest in abrupt, impossible transitions. A city—half-buried and clearly not from his world—stood tilted at an angle along the edge of a cliff that should not exist.

Mac stared at it all, his breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a scream.

Mac Travers: Okay, Mac. Think. You drop a bomb into a gravity well generator, they cut your fuse to five seconds, you don’t die—great, love that for you—and now...

He gestured vaguely at the landscape.

Mac Travers: Whatever this is.

He took a few steps forward, boots crunching against unfamiliar ground, unable to tear his eyes away from the horizon.

Mac Travers: This isn't...this isn't...is this Earth?

His gaze snapped back to the wreck behind him.

Mac Tavers: Orguss, if you’re still here somewhere, I could really use a status update, a pep talk, literally anything.

The wind shifted, carrying a strange, earthy scent, mixed now with something faintly metallic.

And for the first time since he woke up, the weight of it all settled in.

Mac Travers: What did I do?



Travers stood at the edge of the cliff for a long moment, the wind tugging at his long brown hair and the sleeves of his flight suit, his mind still trying to catch up with what his eyes were telling him. The rivers below carved impossible paths through the land, splitting and rejoining as if they could not decide where they belonged, and the sky above shimmered with faint fractures that pulsed like distant lightning caught behind glass. He tightened his grip on the helmet tucked under his arm and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus.

Mac Travers: Alright. Deep breath. Step one: figure out where I am. Step two: figure out why I’m not dead. Step three: figure out where my jet went. Step four: figure out who the hell I'm talking to.

A sound cut through the open air.

It was faint at first, almost lost beneath the wind, but it was unmistakable once he keyed in on it.

Footsteps.

Running.

Mac turned sharply toward the source, eyes narrowing as he scanned the uneven terrain below the cliff. A figure burst into view from between a cluster of jagged rocks, sprinting hard across the uneven ground. It was a woman, her movements quick but uneven, like she had been running for a long time and was running out of strength. Her clothes were torn in places, and she kept glancing over her shoulder, panic written clearly across her face.

Mac Travers: A person! Hey! Up here!

She either did not hear him or did not care. She just kept running.

Then he saw what was behind her.

Two figures crested the rocks seconds later, and Marcus immediately knew something was wrong.

They were human-shaped, but that was where the resemblance ended. Their bodies were twisted, elongated in unnatural ways, with limbs that bent too far at the joints and skin that looked stretched and uneven, like it did not quite fit what was underneath. One of them moved with a jerking, stuttering gait, while the other ran low to the ground, almost animalistic in how it closed the distance.

Mac felt his stomach drop.

Mac Travers: What the- Not people. Definitely not people! That first one though!

The woman stumbled, catching herself on a rock before pushing forward again. One of the creatures lunged, closing the gap rapidly.

Mac broke into a full sprint.

Mac Travers: Hey! Over here! Move left!

This time she saw him. Her eyes locked onto his for a split second, and something like hope flashed across her face. She veered slightly, angling toward him.

The creatures adjusted instantly.

He skidded down the last stretch of rock and dirt, planting himself between her and the things chasing her. Up close, they were worse. Their eyes glowed faintly, unfocused and hungry, and their mouths were set in expressions that looked more like tearing than breathing.

Mac Travers: Alright. Listen, I don’t know what you are, and I don’t really care, but she’s off-limits today, okay? Take a day off. Go...eat something else.

One of them let out a low, distorted sound and rushed him.

Mac reacted on instinct, sidestepping and driving his shoulder into it. The impact was solid, heavier than he expected, and it barely slowed the creature down. It twisted unnaturally, snapping back toward him with a swipe that forced him to jump back.

The second one came in from the side.

Mac ducked, the thing’s claws slicing through the air where his head had been a second earlier. He stumbled back, heart hammering, realizing very quickly that he was outmatched.

Mac Travers: I really...really wish I had Orguss right now! I-

The words had barely left his mouth when something changed.

It started as a vibration under his skin, subtle at first, like a current running just beneath the surface. Mac froze for half a second, confusion flashing across his face.

Mac Travers: Hey...what-

Light burst outward from his chest.

Not blinding, but intense, a concentrated glow that spread rapidly across his body in sharp, defined lines. Mac staggered back as the sensation intensified, the vibration turning into something more solid, more structured.

Armor.

It formed over him in segments, snapping into place with mechanical precision. White plates locked over his limbs, trimmed with red and blue, while sleek, angular components extended along his shoulders and back, echoing the shape of a fighter jet’s wings. A core of light ignited at his chest, pulsing steadily as if it had always been there.

Mac's breath caught as the helmet sealed over his head, his vision shifting instantly into a sharp, enhanced display. Data flickered at the edges of his sight, unfamiliar but somehow understood.

He looked down at his hands.

They were no longer gloved in fabric, but encased in armored gauntlets, every movement smooth and responsive.



Mac Travers: What is this!? Orguss?!

The creatures did not hesitate.

They lunged again.

This time, Mac moved differently.

He stepped into the first attack, catching the creature’s arm and twisting, using its own momentum to slam it into the ground. The impact cracked against the earth with a force that surprised even him. The second one came in immediately, and Mac pivoted, driving a precise strike into its midsection that sent it skidding back.

Mac Travers: Okay....OKAY! I can work with this!

The creatures scrambled back to their feet, circling now, more cautious.

Mac shifted his stance, feeling the suit respond.

Mac Travers: Orguss!

The core at his chest pulsed in response.

A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth beneath the helmet.

Behind him, the woman stared, wide-eyed, caught between fear and disbelief.

Mac glanced back at her briefly, then returned his focus to the two creatures. He remembered that Orguss was equipped with two energy weapons, drawing from the core in the center, they manifested into his fists, he punched both of the charging mutants and disintegrated them. 

Mac did not move right away after the second mutant disintegrated. The last burst of light faded into the trees, leaving only the quiet of the forest and the distant rustle of leaves in its wake. His fists slowly unclenched as the energy coursing through the armor began to die down, the glow at his chest dimming in uneven pulses.

The suit started to come apart.

Panels of light peeled away from his body, dissolving into the air as the armored plating retracted piece by piece. The strength left him just as quickly as it had come, and his legs buckled beneath him. He dropped to one knee, then the other, and finally collapsed onto his back, staring up through the canopy as his chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths.

Mac Travers: Okay...yeah...I'm losing my mind. Only explanation.

His vision swam as exhaustion set in all at once, his body feeling like it weighed twice as much as it should. The adrenaline faded, leaving behind confusion, pain, and one very clear, very wrong detail hanging in the sky above him.

Two moons.

He stared at them, trying to make sense of it, trying to convince himself there was some logical explanation, but nothing came. The trees shifted in the wind, framing that impossible sky, and for a moment he just lay there, too tired to even question it properly.

Then he heard footsteps.

Soft. Careful. Getting closer.

He turned his head slightly as the woman stepped into view, her silhouette framed by the light breaking through the leaves above. She knelt beside him, studying him with cautious curiosity, her green visor catching the light as she leaned in just enough to get a better look at his face.



Woman: Are you alright?

Mac let out a weak breath that almost turned into a laugh, his eyes drifting back up toward the sky before settling on her again.

Mac Travers: I've had rougher nights...but not many. Where on Earth am I?

She hesitated for just a moment, as if the question itself was strange.

Woman: Earth? This isn't Earth?

That got his attention, even through the haze. His brow furrowed slightly as he looked at her, waiting for her to clarify, hoping she would.

She did.

Woman: This is New Pangea.

Marcus stared at her for a second, then slowly looked back up at the sky, at those two moons hanging there like they had always belonged.

He exhaled, long and tired, letting his head fall back against the ground.

Mac Travers: ...Oh no.

Last edited by Machismo (3/31/2026 6:12 pm)