The NTR Rogue

In a world where misery clung to him like a shadow, John had perfected the art of sarcasm and mastered the science of solitude. Life had carved him into a jaded, irritable recluse, the punchline of every cruel joke. He had long come to terms with his bleak existence, and he wore his sarcasm like armour, deflecting the occasional misplaced sympathy that dared to breach his solitude.

As he stood rigid before the headstone, he lowered his gaze to remember the only soul who had shown him genuine kindness. It painted a haunting picture: a pupil, gazing down at his mentor's headstone with enough indifference to make one wonder if he even knew the man. Lost in his thoughts, he turned his gaze to the sea, engulfed in a melancholic, deep blue. 

He watched the fog clinging to the sea's surface, it looked like smoke. Reminded of his vice, he took a lighter from his coat pocket and brought it near his face. His rugged features danced in the crimson glow, veiled by a cloud of smoke. It was a bad habit he picked up because why not? What's lung cancer for someone who has nothing to lose?

John had forsaken the notion of a regular, fulfilling life. No amount of instant gratification would ever complete him; he would remain incomplete. 'Am I even human?' He wondered, but no, he shook his head, aware of the futility of dealing with an existential crisis.

As John exhaled a cloud of smoke, his eyes remained fixed on the mysterious sea, unchanging and timeless. Its enchanting presence fascinated him, a constant in his complex life. Then, out of nowhere, something unusual disrupted the profound silence. 

John turned his gaze to the grey skies and spotted a massive, ominous silhouette. His brows furrowed and while anyone might get a bad feeling in such a situation, John couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement. His eyes narrowed and finally saw it, the juggernaut battleship.

"Is this it?" He wondered out loud, not a hint of panic on his expression. Whatever it was, John knew it wasn't good. 'I should prepare,' he thought and stole one last glance at his mentor's headstone. 

"Goodbye, old man," he said and sauntered off towards his off-road motorcycle which he managed to drive illegally for years without getting caught. 

He looked down at his mentor's last gift, a tactical knife, sharp enough to kill anyone, the old man said. He snorted at the memory of his mentor and climbed on the weathered enduro bike. With force, he swung his leg at the kick start lever and the engine's roar echoed through the otherwise silent cemetery. 

As he roared through the chilly roads, the city loomed closer on the horizon. The city buzzed with panic over the juggernaut on the skies. Most assumed the worst, but there those who remained unfazed by the sudden invasion. 

John stopped at an almost decrepit apartment complex and hid his motorcycle near the back of the building. He climbed up the rickety stairs and made his way towards his apartment. Faint chatter drifted behind him, normally something he'd tune out, but a voice called out that caught his attention.

"Oh my god," a woman exclaimed, "is that really you, John?"

He turned around and met the blonde woman's blue eyes with indifference. She was wearing luxury clothing and carried a designer bag, her arm linked with another man her age, his clothes equally luxurious.

"Dalia." John greeted, his tone neutral.

"Wait!" another woman said, "is that the John?"

The group began to deliberate about John's existence. The youngest woman looked around her 18s and she explained all about John and Dalia's relationship. They were childhood friends, but John had developed a crush on Dalia. Dalia had never thought about him that way and she thought John was not good enough for her. She wanted stability in her life, something John couldn't provide. But this was all a misunderstanding on her part, they didn't know John had never seen her in a romantic light.

The boy linking arms with Dalia stepped forward and scoffed. He looked John up and down with disdain, his lip curling at John's worn outfit.

"So you're the infamous John, huh? The way they talked about you, I expected more," he scoffed. "But looking at you now, I can see why Dalia was never interested."

John met the mocking gaze with indifference, hands shoved in his pockets.

"I mean, look at yourself," the man continued, gesturing at John's frayed jacket and faded jeans. "You really think you could measure up to someone like Dalia? She's way out of your league."

The group snickered behind him. Dalia looked away, avoiding eye contact with John.

"Do you even own a single designer item?" the boyfriend jeered. "Dalia wouldn't be caught dead with a charity case like you."

John remained silent, his expression betraying nothing.

"What, you got nothing to say?" the man pressed. "Not even going to defend yourself? I guess you know deep down she's too much woman for you."

Just then, a deep rumbling shook the walls of the apartment building. Cracks began splitting the pavement outside and car alarms blared loudly. The group screamed and huddled together in panic.

John's eyes sharpened with alertness. He glanced up the skies where the massive juggernaut loomed over the city skyline and began emitting otherworldly sounds. Fear and confusion consumed the faces around him, but John only felt the adrenaline beginning to course through his veins. This was it.

Deep, vibrating pulses throbbed through the air like the low rumblings of an earthquake. The windows and walls of the apartment building shook under the intensity of the vibrations.

Then another sound pierced through - a shrill, metallic whine that made the hairs on the back of necks stand up. It started and stopped randomly, sometimes rising into a fever pitch before cutting off with ominous silence.

Just then, a holographic screen hovered in John's frontal vision.

[Pick your class to survive The Apocalypse Games.]

John's expression looked as neutral as ever, but the gears were turning in his head. It was a weird feeling, he had not expected this, but somehow he knew it would be something like this when he saw that battleship.

The holographic screen could scroll down by just thinking about it, listing an endless number of professions and classes like one would find in a videogame. There was a counter at the top of the screen and he knew he only had 30 seconds to choose a class, but the list was endless. He looked at everyone staring into nothing and surmised they were also picking their classes.

Some titles were highlighted in grey, others blue or green and John immediately understood it was meant to divide the classes by their rarity or strength. John decided to forgo reading the titles and focus on the colours. He scrolled through the list at an incredible speed, focusing on the colours. That's when he saw it, a bright golden colour and stopped scrolling through the list.

[NTR Rogue (S)]

'Is this a joke?' He thought. He was, of course, quite familiar with those cursed 3 letters. He was not happy about this and thought he should keep scrolling, but the counter had already count down to zero.

"Fuck!" he muttered, but consoled himself by thinking about a few happy couples he would be more than willing to break up. His mind couldn't help but wander to his father and his new girlfriend. Perhaps that so-called father of his should suffer the same pain he put John's mother through. Perhaps this was not so bad after all.