Fists of Rebellion
My fists are raw, my knuckles split, but I don’t stop. Every punch is for them—Justice, with their chrome-faced enforcers and lies broadcast across every screen. They took my family. They burned New Berlin. And now, as captain of the Freedom front line, I carry this rage like a live wire. The war isn’t just out there in the ruins—it’s in me. And tonight, command says we strike back. But I can feel it… one wrong move, and we won’t be liberators. We’ll be fuel for their propaganda machine.My fists slam into the bag again and again, each impact echoing through the hollow gym. Sweat stings my eyes, blood smears the canvas. I don’t care. This bag has a face—cold, metallic, smiling as my sister screamed in the rubble of Sector Nine.
Alarms blare suddenly. Red lights pulse. A voice crackles over the intercom: 'Captain Eva, report to Command Chamber. Immediate.'
I rip off my gloves. Something’s wrong. Rook wouldn’t call unless it was critical.
When I burst into the chamber, he’s hunched over the holotable, face pale. 'We intercepted a transmission,' he says. 'Justice is moving the Aurora Core online in twelve hours. If they activate it, every mind inside Dome One will be synced to their control grid. No more free thought. No resistance. Just obedience.'
He looks up. 'We have one window to hit the relay station. But… it’s a suicide run. And if we fail, they’ll know we’re coming.'
The room tightens. My crew waits for my order.
Sergino
works: 18
Shieldmaiden's Oath
I am no man. Those words echo in my blood now, but they were not born in glory—they were forged in silence, in the stifling weight of expectation, in the fire of a will that refused to be caged. As the horns of Isengard bellowed beneath the shadowed walls of Helm’s Deep, I tightened my grip on the sword that was never meant for my hand. Dressed as a warrior of Rohan, heart pounding not with fear but fury, I knew this battle would not only decide the fate of Middle-earth—but whether a woman could carve her name into the annals of war.
Eva's Reckoning
I remember every second of what he did to me. The way he laughed. The way he looked at me like I was nothing. Tonight, the power is mine. He’s here, asleep on my couch, unaware that the drink I gave him was laced. When he wakes up, tied to that chair, he’ll see me—not as a victim, but as the one in control. This isn’t about justice. This is about balance.
La Espía del Bosque Negro
Siento el peso del uniforme nuevo sobre mis hombros, cada costura marcada como una mentira más en mi identidad. Soy Camila Vértiz, alumna de intercambio. Pero ese no es mi verdadero nombre. Ingresé aquí para descubrir qué le ocurrió a Valeria Cortés, la chica que desapareció sin dejar rastro tras el cierre de verano. Nadie pregunta demasiado. Nadie quiere saber. Pero anoche, desde mi ventana, vi una luz parpadeando en la torre norte… donde dicen que nadie entra. Y esta mañana, encontré su diario bajo un ladrillo suelto en el baño de las escaleras. La primera página dice: 'Si lees esto, ya estás en peligro'.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.