Level-Up Apocalypse: Surviving With The Assimilation System

At the tip of his index finger, the skin unraveled itself like string cheese. It was an acute, burning sensation that crescendoed as the peeling occurred through each finger, flaying his entire arm.

The pain was real, he felt it, though he steadied himself, shutting his eyes tightly as he repeated one thought–

\'It\'s not real.\'

Opening his eyes again,the pain vanished just like that, and the skin on his hand was returned to normal, as if never harmed.

["I began to realize it. That in this twisted night, the horrors before me were only real if I believed them so. It wasn\'t as easy as simply just convincing myself it to be fake–it was real, in a sense. I had to fight with reckless abandon, without any thought for my body; like that of Raven."]

It was at that moment that he came to the realization of just what it was that he stood at the center of. The darkness that puppeteered the senses; the many entities of differing faces, yet aligned malevolence.

["Schrodinger\'s Box. That\'s what this is…Everything is both real and fake, until I believe it to be real. If I do, then it will be cemented–I have to ignore what my body feels, I have to push through it."]

All of it grouped itself into one concept: "Schrodinger\'s Reality." An unstable region under the curtains of darkness, where the nonsensical became sensical, and the abstractions of the mind manifested.

As long as one believed it to be real, even if only for a moment, then it was so.

\'I have to trust that everything I see, all of it that I experience…It\'s fake. If I don\'t, then it\'ll be real. That\'s the power it has–it\'s a god-like power used only to toy with us,\' Finn thought.

Even with that resolve in mind, he was taken aback as he found the faceless one standing right before him. He hadn\'t blinked at all, yet the being was right there.

Without any eyes to speak of, only a canvas that housed a void, it felt as though he was being stared at still. It was only his second instinct to raise his weapon, as his first was to freeze in fear for a split-second.

That partial moment was enough time for the enigmatic figure to raise its hand. Finn witnessed the pitch-black palm grab onto his face as darkness filled his vision.

The sense of balance he had was swept from beneath his feet as he found himself falling. As he blinked, the lack of sight had been recalled as he found himself plummeting in a new scenery.

"Ah–?" He let out, looking side-to-side.

It was an attack on his senses; walls that flashed from green to yellow, all of which were formed of faces that laughed and groaned. There was no way to catch himself as he continued falling through the maddening pit of faces.

\'Shit–\' He thought.

Amidst his fall, he witnessed the colossal faces emerge from every side like flesh being pushed through a thin layer of plastic. The mouths opened, screaming at him with short bursts of yells like that of a human bark.

From all angles, the yelps caused the air to vibrate, pushing against his body with a bludgeoning force that knocked him side-to-side.

\'Don\'t let it…get to you!\' He urged himself.

As he convinced himself of its falsity, even as the repeated screams pierced his eardrums like a blade, the falling suddenly stopped—

"Uff—" He let out upon landing.

What he felt beneath him wasn\'t solid, unmoving ground, but something that wriggled against his fingertips. Lifting himself up before opening his eyes, he felt a stringy, warm object in his mouth–it moved.

As his eyelids parted, rubbing the dirt from his face, he realized what he had landed upon: a bed of soil, completely carpeted in slimy worms.

"Pyuh–!" He spat out, finding the grotesque creatures between his lips.

Standing himself up, he brushed the bugs from his arms, patting them off in a hurry before–the scenery changed again.

"Huh?" He audibly let out.

Around him was a nostalgic sight; the lights of a city at night, with billboards displaying ads and countless cars driving through the street. Such a sight that felt like an eternity ago brought him to a still; the sounds of people walking and talking, the horns of cars as they passed through the busy streets–that ambience reminded him of a better time.

Click.

"--What?" Finn muttered, glancing to the side.

He saw a figure in all black, wearing a trenchcoat, pointing an object directly against the side of his head;. By that sound that was made, he understood what it was–a gun.

Bang.

He could feel the bullet piercing through his skull and tossing his brain matter aside as though it were lumps of soil in the path of a spade. It failed to make logical sense why he could feel such a thing, down to the torque of the projectile as it pushed out the other side.

["Over and over again."]

A single blink of his eyes brought him to a wasteland of ice; winds that carried such frost in their path that his teeth began chattering enough that they cracked. The moisture on his eyeballs froze as he could feel the crystallization stabbing into his head.

Across his body, the frost gripped him as he shivered before–he was left motionless.

["Over and over again, it killed me."]

In the depths of a great ocean, he found himself, sinking deeper and deeper. Attempting to swim up was fruitless, as the surface only seemed to grow more distant with each wave of his arms. He desperately moved his arms and legs as his lungs ached for air.

The breath in his body was filled instead by water, leaving a tightness in his chest. He stopped himself from resisting any further, simply going limp as he floated in the ocean depths.

Deprived of oxygen as his consciousness flickered, he assured himself it wasn\'t real. Even though his heart thumped and his mind panicked—he remained calm.

"Hueeh…!"

He suddenly found himself inhaling as oxygen was returned to him. It was on a tile ground that he found himself laying on, with a distinct smell of coffee grounds in the air.

"Ah–?" Finn quietly let out.

Before picking himself up, he found a hand reaching down in front of him, lending him help in the matter. Through his worn, exhausted mind, he naturally grasped the hand before being brought back to his feet.

As he was helped to his feet, the tired, young man found who had helped him up, looking right at the armorclad friend of his.

"Damian?" Finn said with a hint of confusion.

"You alright, man? Never seen you just fall over like that," Damian asked with a laugh.

"Yeah, I\'m fine…Just feeling out of it," Finn responded with a nod, sitting down at the chair beside him.