The sky ripped open like a busted asshole.
George Droyd fell through the hole, spinnin' ass over elbows, slammin' into the dirt with a loud-ass THUD.
"FUUUUUCK!" he screamed, coughin' up dust, sand in his eyes, piss-hot wind blowin' up his nose.
"Where the fuck my fent at?!"
NiggaLink AI chirped in his brain, all panicked:
"Yo, blood! Yo! You crashlanded, my nigga! Yo system runnin' DRY, homie! Yo fent levels critical!"
George scrambled up, eyes buggin' out, metal limbs twitchin'. The world around him felt wrong as hell, but Droyd ain't give no fuck about none of that.
His chest reactor sputtered, coughin' sparks.
He clutched his side, sweatin' bricks.
"Nigga, I'ma die if I don't hit a lick real quick, fuck!"
George howled, slappin' the side of his own head like he could reboot himself.
"Calm yo dumbass down!"
NiggaLink shouted.
"I'm pingin' for fent sources right now, hold up — ayy, ayy, got somethin'! 5 klicks north! Pure, uncut fent, nigga! Like 99.9%!"
George's cracked-up eyes rolled white. He started shakin', itchin' all over.
"OHHHHH SHIEEEEEEET!" he screeched.
He didn't even think.
He didn't even look.
The fent was callin' him — singin' to his soul — like a fat white bitch singin' gospel in a fried chicken joint.
George dropped low, reactor wheezin'...
And then he BLASTED off the ground like a broken-ass rocket, fists forward, flyin' dirty through the purple sky.
"AAAAAAAAAAH NIGGAAAAAA!"
He screamed, lookin' half dead, half orgasmic.
Sand exploded behind him, makin' a crater where he took off.
NiggaLink AI was panickin':
"Nigga! Yo trajectory all fucked up!"
"You zigzaggin' like a drunk-ass pigeon!"
"Focus up!"
George drooled a little, his mind gone off hunger.
"FENT, FENT, FENT!" he chanted like a retard, droolin' down his chin, head bouncin' from the G-forces.
Over hills.
Over monsters.
Through swarms of creepy bugs that tried to bite him out the sky.
George ain't see none of it.
He was locked in, laser-focused, dreamin' of that sweet sweet powder.
"NIGGA I NEED IT!"
He roared.
At one point he clipped a dead tree and spun out, crashin' face-first into a dune.
But he didn't stop.
He clawed his way out the sand, snortin' grit like it was blow, reactor coughin' and sputterin', then blasted off again.
Like a ghetto-ass Iron Man, but powered by addiction and spite.
Every second he flew, his body got hotter. The core inside him was runnin' on fumes. His arms shook. His vision blurred.
"Yo blood,"
NiggaLink buzzed, voice serious for once,
"If you don't hit that fent plug in the next five minutes, you deadass dead, nigga."
George just laughed, a crazy cracked-up laugh.
He didn't care no more.
He was already dead.
This was just bonus rounds, baby.
The signal got stronger.
Closer.
Brighter.
Up ahead, he saw it — tucked inside a broken ruin, glowin' faint like a magic rock.
A sack.
A fat sack of raw, uncut fentanyl, sittin' pretty like a bitch waitin' to get picked up.
George screamed.
"OOOOHHHHHH SHIEEEEEEET THAT'S MY BABY!"
He crash-landed again, bouncin' and rollin' like a ragdoll, bones snappin', armor plates comin' loose.
Didn't even faze him.
He crawled forward, snatchin' the sack up with both hands, eyes wide and cryin' like he found God.
Tore it open with his teeth.
Snorted a line so fat it looked like a highway stripe.
The effect was instant.
His core lit up.
His muscles surged.
His brain snapped back online, clearer, faster, crazier than before.
"YEEEEEAAAAAH NIGGAAAAA!"
George howled, punchin' the ground so hard a mini-earthquake rippled out.
He stood up slow, flexin' arms that glowed red under the skin.
George Droyd was BACK, baby.
Back in business.
"Where the fuck the rest of this world at?!"
He shouted to the empty desert.
"Who out here got smoke wit me?!"
The ground behind him shifted.
Soft. Silent.
But heavy. Like somethin' royal was steppin' onto the stage.
"You do not belong here."
The voice was cold. Sharp. Like a scalpel slicin' through silk.
George spun around, fists up — ready to throw hands with whatever cracked-ass bug or freak popped out.
But it wasn't no monster.
It was a girl.
Tall.
Slim.
Skin pale like moonlight.
Hair white as powdered sugar, floatin' in the foul wind like she didn't even feel gravity.
Eyes colder than a pimp's heart.
She wore simple armor, gleamin' silver. A sword hung at her side, but she ain't even reach for it yet. She didn't have to.
The ground around her feet was smokin'.
Tiny embers of white fire drifted from her fingers, curlin' lazy shapes into the air.
George blinked, dumbfounded.
"Damn bitch..." he muttered, sniffin', rubbin' his nose, "You lookin' like a whole-ass glowstick."
She tilted her head slightly, brows low, like she was inspectin' somethin' filthy.
"You reek of corruption."
"You defile this sacred ground with your... existence."
Her lip curled like she tasted shit just standin' near him.
George grinned, cracked teeth flashin'.
"Bitch, you talkin' too much," he laughed, spittin' in the sand. "Run yo pockets. You got any more fent on you? Huh? I can smell that shit on you, snowbunny."
The girl's eyes narrowed, white flames coilin' tighter around her fists.
"That fent you stole..."
"It belonged to me."
"And your filth has stained it beyond redemption."
George scratched his head, lookin' around like she was speakin' Chinese.
"You mad 'cause a real nigga got to it first?"
He stepped forward, chest out.
"Ain't nobody tell you to leave yo shit lyin' around. That's the streets, bitch. Finders keepers, fuckers weepers."
Her expression didn't change.
Only her hand moved — slow, graceful — rising like a queen blessin' a peasant.
White flames roared to life in her palm, dancin' without heat but radiatin' pure destruction.
"I will cleanse you."
"For the honor of humanity... and the shame of what you are."
George's reactor hummed.
His muscles twitched.
His instincts — dumb, feral — screamed Fight!
He flexed his hands, fists clenchin'.
"Ayo bitch, you talkin' spicy!"
He barked, spittin' grit.
"You bouta get yo ass beat! Nigga I'm on ten right now! This the wrong time to test me!"
Nephis didn't blink.
She stepped.
Just one step — elegant, silent.
But the ground where her foot landed caught fire instantly, turnin' the sand into molten glass.
George saw that and whooped.
"OH HELL YEAH!"
He hollered, reactor flarin' brighter.
"BITCH GOT POWERS! LESS GOOOOOO!"
He launched himself at her like a fuckin' wreckin' ball, fists swingin' wild.
But Nephis moved like water.
She ducked under his punch, white flames burstin' from her fingertips — slidin' up his arm like snakes.
George screamed as the white fire tore through his metal plating, eatin' into the cybernetics beneath.
"AAAAAARRRRRGHHH! YOU BURNIN' A NIGGA, BITCH!"
He swung again, wild, reckless.
Caught her cloak — tore it — but not her.
Nephis danced back, every step graceful, untouched by the chaos.
She raised her hand.
The white fire EXPLODED outward in a wave.
George caught the full blast to the chest.
Boom.
He flew backwards, slammin' into a dune so hard it collapsed on top of him, buryin' him in black sand.
Silence.
Ash floated in the air like snowfall.
Nephis stood still, watchin' the dune shift.
"Pitiful."
"I expected a greater challenge... even from a creature such as you."
But the sand moved.
It rumbled.
And from it, screamin' like a demon fresh outta rehab, George Droyd burst free.
His skin was burned. His armor was melted. His face was half gone, exposin' cracked chrome and bone.
But he was smilin'. Wide. Mad.
"BITCH..."
He roared.
"THAT ALL YOU GOT?! NIGGA I EAT FLAMES FOR BREAKFAST!"
The reactor in his chest glowed brighter — drunk off the pure fent rush still floodin' his system.
George charged again.
Not smart.
Not strategic.
Just fury.
Just raw, savage will.
And Nephis... for the first time... looked almost intrigued.
"Very well," she whispered, white flames risin' around her like a crown.
"Come. Let me show you the fire that birthed kings."
And then the world exploded into white and black chaos, two monsters collidin' under a sky that hated 'em both.