[Constellation Zero offers its gift]
[Will you accept?]
A white-hot screen with deep, black text blinked in front of a freshly awoken Apollo, below the text, two options stuck out to his watery eyes.
[Yes]
[No]
'What the..?'
Apollo didn't wake to the warm embrace of his family. Instead, he woke to the sky eagerly spitting on him.
He woke up because a drop of freezing water hit his split lip just right, and the world decided it was time for him to suffer again.
He was awoken in the middle of the merciless night, where rain lashed out at his bare and unsightly body -
'I mean,' He interjected, clearly aware of his own situation, 'If you want protection, these rags I wear do a fantastic job at letting the rain through'
Thus disturbing his already restless sleep.
Before him, the incandescent white box floated, flickering into existence, with no apparent support, glaring at Apollo, as if impatiently awaiting his response.
Using his right hand as leverage against the grimy-covered floor of the alley. A clear mistake, as his past wounds were flaring up, just sitting up sent a burning-hot agony blitzing through his nerves. His muscles spasmed as the sharp, freezing dumpster behind him ate at his consciousness. Looking closer, he examined the box studiously, squinting through the blinding light.
'It was today? Of all times, it had to be now?' A groan escaped his dry lips.
He raised his left hand in a sharp, deliberate manner, the pain biting at his pride as he saw dirt, mud, and whatever "secret ingredient" that was found in the bin next door caking under his fingernails. Using his index finger, he underlined the text.
"Constellation Zero?"
Apollo trod through his fractured memories, trying to recall any mention of a constellation named 'Zero'. Of every awakened he had heard of, not one had received a gift from a sponsor called 'Zero', which was slightly unsettling.
'I'm a fan of the "underdogs winning" genre, as much as the next guy over really.. But "Zero" isn't the most ideal scenario considering I'm nearly half-dead.'
He spat out whatever liquid was building up in his mouth, trying to refocus on the glaring screen in front of him.
His family line- Or what used to be his family- was looked favourably upon by the Sovereign of Fire, so jumping down to "Zero" felt like an insult to him.
And what's the deal with only one offer? If awakened were given offers based on their potential, then even the most incompetent people received at least 2 or even 3 offers.
'Great, that makes me hopeless, utterly hopeless..'
Sinking deeper in his throne of Squalor, Apollo sighed, grasping at the air before him, trying to close the shimmering screen.
Luminara would have called this a "fall from grace". Apollo simply called it another Tuesday morning... A very early one at that.
They loved their dramatic words- Coercion, Glory, Destiny. Apollo? He just called it a failure. He looked at his hand, watching the rain slide effortlessly through his thin fingers as if he were nothing more than a trick of the light. He had spent sixteen years trying to fit into their world of gold, only to find out he was nothing at the end of their expectations.
It had slowly started to drizzle slightly again, water racing its way down to Apollo.
A small puddle had formed, and through its reflection, Apollo saw the 'Oh-So Great' "Immortal" Luminaras drop out, sat helplessly in a configuration of sludge and grime that acted as his floor.
It was a frail young boy, his bleak, copper eyes gleamed with negligence. His nose outwardly pointed, his bones poking at his skin from within from a lack of nutrition.
His only redefining feature was his flaring hair; it was an astounding beacon of unwanted attention. And yet, it so furiously shone, despite the pain, resolute in its existence.
Despite the fear that clung to him.
'Or it could be the rats and whatever else took refuge with me,' Huddling against him for warmth in the bitter cold.
"Zero", he read out, a raspy voice holding out against the sputtering rain.
"My entire life was choked with how I was nothing, I don't need a God to spell it out for me!" He cursed out, scattering the rats swarming his body.
The rats, by the way, weren't even there for the company. They were just huddling against him for warmth. Even they had better survival instincts than he did, they even had a sense of self- evaluation level one higher than Apollo.
In a last act of self-preservation, he lashed out at the display. It merely flickered, as if mocking him. This only infuriated Apollo further. Even if the pain fritzed through his body he had one act of rebellion.
"You're awfully shy for a God," he spat, his raspy voice echoing against the damp brick. "Scared of a boy stuck in a bin?"
A manic, near insane, unhinged sneer lifted his lackluster figure. He upheaved his frail-looking hand, the smile plastered ridiculously across his face as his hand reached for the options.
He didn't just press the 'No' button, he pierced it with such force it poked a hole through the bag of waste situated a little too perfectly behind the screen.
As peels of rotten fruits were strewn across him, the smell so abhorrent it caused tears to his eyes, he laughed.
Like a true maniac.
The sound bounced off the damp walls caging him.
[Option No selected]
A sigh escaped his lips, hand on his stomach, the pain seared through his skin..
'Uh.. Now what?'
The laughter died in his throat,
'Why hasn't the screen vanished yet?'
The screen did not falter, it only stood more undaunted..
[Rejected]
The screen flickered from incandescent white to a warning red.
'R-rejected..?' He sat, mouth bolted open. 'Me..? Rejected?'
A new low. Even for a boy laced in trash..
"Did you just.. Reject my rejection?"
He had spent his last ounce of strength to say no to a god, to maintain a shred of dignity, and the god had looked at him and decided, 'Actually, I've changed my mind. You're too revolting even for me.'
[Initiating synchronisation]
The build up wasn't gradual. Pain, no- It wasn't just that, it screamed through his body catching fire to every part of his body, peeling skin back like burnt paper. The 'Rejected' notification didn't vanish, it bled into his eyes. The red text smeared across his vision like wet ink, merging with the rain.
[Sync Progress: 0.01%]
"Stop!" Apollo lashed out, but his lungs ripped apart, silently killing his breath.
[Rejected]
His spine arched so violently he heard the rusted lid of the dumpster groan beneath him. White light poured into his vision.
[Sync Progress: 3%]
[User status: Breaking]
"I.. Said.. No," he wheezed, the words dying in his mouth, fingers clawing into the trash as the world pivoted askew.
The last thing he distinguished before the agony turned the world into a blur of static was the floating white box, now vibrating with a rhythmic, mechanical pulse. It displayed one last message of ridicule.
[User body is insufficient]
'Great, I'm guessing my rags for clothes weren't party level after all'
Then, the darkness didn't damn fall, it crushed him whole, suffocating what little struggle he tried to put up.
'At least the rats got out while they could.'