The GDA jet's engines hummed beneath me, a constant reminder that I was thirty thousand feet up with nowhere to run.
The GDA jet was surprisingly nice.
Not private-jet-with-champagne nice, I was used to, but government-budget-actually-spent-on-comfort nice.
I was sitting near the back, surrounded by a team of GDA agents in full tactical gear, their rifles resting on their laps like they expected me to spontaneously combust or some shit.
Donald Ferguson sat across from me with a tablet, occasionally glancing up to make sure I wasn't doing anything suspicious.
The silence was oppressive as hell.
Nobody was talking. The agents were just staring straight ahead like good little soldiers. Donald was focused on his tablet. And I was sitting here with my blurry vision, unable to even see their faces clearly, let alone make conversation.
I shifted in my seat, trying to get comfortable.
Three rifles twitched in my direction.
Fucking hell.
Still not used to this level of silence, I decided to break the ice.
"Hey, Donald, right?" I gestured vaguely toward the armed agents. "What's with the band? Seems like overkill for one teenager who can barely see."
Donald looked up from his tablet, his expression perfectly stoic. "They're here to ensure your safety as much as mine. You're still an unknown and unpredictable variable, Mr. Kaisen. Until we understand where you came from, precautions are necessary."
"Right," I said. "Because I'm such a threat. Can't even see past three feet without squinting."
"Mr. Kaisen"
Donald reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a case. He leaned forward, offering it to me.
'Kaisen,' I muttered. 'Yeah. Still getting used to that.'
Confused, I still took and opened it.
Glasses.
Brand new, sleek-looking glasses with thin frames that looked way more expensive than anything I'd expect from a government official.
Excitement surged through me. I practically yanked them out of the case and shoved them onto my face, not even caring if I looked desperate.
Yet, the world was still blurry.
"What the fuck?" I started to complain, reaching up to adjust them. "These don't even—"
Then my vision started clearing.
Slowly at first, like someone was gradually turning up the resolution on a TV. Then faster, sharper, until suddenly I could see everything.
I could see the stitching on Donald's suit. The scratches on the rifle barrels. The straps on the tactical gear.
The mountains outside the window and snow-capped peaks stretching into the distance.
I could SEE.
Actually see, clearly, after a long time.
"Finally," I breathed, turning my head to take in every detail. "I can see clearly."
Donald smiled with just a small upturn of his lips. "Those are our standard-issue smart glasses. They automatically adjust their prescription according to the wearer's needs. Took a moment to calibrate to your vision."
I was too busy staring at everything to respond immediately.
This was amazing.
"You can keep them, Mr. Kaisen," Donald said, his smile widening slightly. "Think of them as compensation for the Director's... interrogation."
I just nodded, still overwhelmed by the clear vision.
Then I remembered something. "Hey, where's Cecil? Thought he'd want to personally escort the 'unknown variable' or whatever."
Donald's expression shifted. He scratched his cheek, adjusting his own glasses in a way that seemed almost embarrassed. "Director Stedman teleported directly to Washington. He's arranging the testing facilities and coordinating with the medical team."
I was about to ask the obvious question when Donald continued.
"And before you ask, no, he can't teleport with passengers. Each teleportation costs approximately five million dollars. The GDA's budget is... constrained. Flying commercial is significantly cheaper when transporting multiple people."
His cheeks went slightly pink as he said it, like he was embarrassed by the budget limitations.
Five million per teleport. Not bad, actually. If the technology were there in my previous world, my siblings would use it just for the fun of it.
'Blushing aside,' I thought, squinting at Donald's face, 'why can't I see your eyes past those glasses, motherfucker?'
I stretched my neck at various angles, trying to get a better look, but the glasses had some kind of privacy tint. All I could see was my own reflection in the lenses.
The agents were starting to look uncomfortable with my weird neck-craning, so I stopped.
This was going to take some time anyway.
Might as well check my notifications.
I pulled up the gacha interface in my vision, the familiar glow appearing as notifications scrolled past.
[Feat Achieved! New World, New Name]
[Reward: +1 Bronze Trait Gacha Ticket]
[Feat Achieved! Prime Suspect of Mass Murder]
[Reward: +1 Bronze Trait Gacha Ticket]
[Feat Achieved! Cleared of Charges (Temporarily)]
[Reward: +1 Silver Ability Gacha Ticket]
[Feat Achieved! Fooled the Spymaster]
[Reward: +1 Gold Skill Gacha Ticket]
[Feat Achieved! The Worst Diamond Roll in History]
[Reward: +1 Silver Random Gacha Ticket]
[Feat Achieved! Made Cecil Think You're Mentally Unstable]
[Reward: +1 Silver Random Gacha Ticket]
I whistled low under my breath, earning a glance from Donald.
'Damn,' I thought. 'The quality is pretty low, but the quantity is nothing to scoff at.'
Six tickets. Two Bronze, three Silver, one Gold.
Not the best haul, but after that disaster Diamond pull, I'd take what I could get.
I rubbed my hands together and cracked my knuckles, which made several agents tense up.
"Relax," I said quickly. "I felt crammed in this tin box, so I just stretched."
They didn't relax.
Whatever.
The itch was back, that familiar craving that came with every new ticket.
The rush of possibility, of chance, of gambling everything on a single pull.
My hands were shaking slightly.
Addiction. Pure and simple.
But I didn't care.
I mentally tore both Bronze tickets at once, feeling that familiar rush as the gacha spun.
[Tank]
|Common Item|
A large indistinct military tank with infinite fuel and tank shells inside of it. Fuel and shells cannot be taken out of the vehicle.
A whole-ass tank materialized in my mental storage, sitting there like the world's most ridiculous lawn ornament.
'The tank is obviously useful,' I thought, 'especially with the infinite ammo and fuel. But in a world where people punch through mountains? This thing is basically a very expensive paperweight.'
Still, infinite ammunition had to be worth something. Maybe I could sell it to Cecil for spare cash.
The second Bronze ticket finished spinning.
[Flash]
|Common Ability|
You can emit a bright blinding light from your hands or use it with less intensity for utility, does not work well outside of close range.
My hands suddenly warmed up, tingling like I'd touched something electric. They turned unnaturally red for a second, glowing faintly, before the light faded and they returned to normal.
I flexed my fingers experimentally. Nothing visible, but I could feel the ability there, ready to be activated.
Flash-bang hands. Could be worse.
'At least it'll increase my ability count,' I thought. 'Now I just need one more to get another ability slot.'
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the anticipation building in my chest.
'You can do better than this,' I told myself. 'Lady Luck is on your side. RNGesus wouldn't fuck you over twice in a row. Right?'
I tore the first Silver ticket.
[Buffout]
|Common Item|
Fallout - Buffout is a pre-war chem created as a very potent and temporary physical effort enhancer and steroid, capable of allowing the string bean joe punch through wood and take a baseball bat to the face thanks to the increased endurance, strength, and reflexes it provides. Restock Timer: 76 Hours
A small pill bottle appeared in my mental storage, labeled with faded pre-war Vault-Tec branding.
'Steroids from Fallout,' I thought. 'Could be useful in a clutch situation. Or I could sell it to Cecil and let the GDA reverse-engineer the compound. Bet they'd pay good money for super-soldier drugs.'
Author's Note:
So… since it's April Fool's and the internet is already a complete circus—
Figured I might as well join in.
50% off on my Patreon memberships today.
Call it a celebration of trolls, hacks, bad decisions, and whatever else is going on out there.
If you've been thinking about joining, this is a good time.
I'll probably wake up tomorrow and question this anyway.
Happy April Fool's.
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