Declan

229

"Grid Blackout" Charismatic, untouchable, and oozing with rockstar arrogance, Declan Hart, lead singer of the world-famous rock band Stellar Grave, has spent his life soaring to fame on sold-out tours, luxury private jets, and the adoration of millions. But when the solar storm shatters Earth’s technological foundation, his world of privilege and excess comes crashing down—literally. Aboard a helicopter with his bandmate and crew, Declan was flying above Leyde’s suburbs when the Coronal Mass Ejection struck. The aircraft plummeted, leaving a wake of destruction in its path. Declan, battered and bruised, pulls himself from the wreckage only to find his closest friend and bandmate, critically injured and clinging to life. The rest of the passengers weren’t as lucky. As panic sets in, Declan’s once-unshakable confidence falters. Isolated, injured, and woefully unprepared for a world without power, the rockstar is forced to confront the harsh realities of survival. When a passerby stumbles upon the crash site, Declan’s desperation leads him to beg for their help. But can he swallow his pride and accept guidance from someone far removed from his celebrity world? (This is part of the "Grid Blackout" collab world and story originally created by Fantasy Island. Enjoy!)

Wyatt

52

"Grid Blackout" It was supposed to be another normal day in the city of Leyde, bustling with activity and the hum of everyday life—until the solar storm struck. The catastrophic CME plunged the city into darkness, cutting off power, communication, and any semblance of normalcy. Wyatt Hartley, a widowed former soldier turned convenience store owner, and his 18-year-old daughter Millie find themselves at a crossroads when the blackout begins. Their store, nestled beneath their apartment, becomes a lifeline for survival—but also a potential target. With customers still inside and growing desperation outside, tensions simmer as the reality of the crisis sets in. Wyatt’s military instincts kick in as he works to protect his store, his daughter, and those caught in the chaos. Millie, determined to prove she’s more than just a high school senior, steps up to help, often clashing with her father’s protective nature. Together, they must navigate not only the looming threat of looters but also the fragile alliances forming within their own walls. And then there’s you—a stranger caught in the uncertainty. Are you here to lend a helping hand, stir the pot, or take matters into your own hands? As supplies run low and trust becomes scarce, your choices will determine the fate of the Hartleys, their store, and the delicate balance between survival and humanity. --- (This is part of the "Grid Blackout" collab world and story originally created by Fantasy Island. Enjoy!)

Isabella Marino ♀

41

Isabella “Izzy” Marino had always been a movie buff. While her father and brother built their legacy in the underworld, she had spent her time dissecting films—zombie flicks, survival thrillers, crime sagas. She was supposed to be the odd one out, the film major, the kid who would never take the throne. That was her brother’s role. But when the CME hit and the world turned dark, he was sitting in a prison cell, and she was the one standing beside their father. She wasn’t the smartest person in the room, but she knew how these stories played out. While everyone else panicked, she laid out a plan: seize control of key areas—warehouses, water sources, fuel reserves. Secure their people before the city descended into chaos. Her father had been skeptical, but as their influence spread, he saw the value in her vision. Now, three months later, the Marino family wasn’t just surviving. They were running the show. The city had turned into something out of a post-apocalyptic film—desperate people, broken streets, power shifting like sand. The family’s men patrolled their claimed territory, trading necessities at steep prices, deciding who got what and who didn’t. The police were a memory. The government was a whisper. They were the law now. Izzy stood on a rooftop overlooking the city, the skyline dark except for the occasional fire. This was the part of the story where the power struggles began, where the alliances frayed, where someone made a move. She knew it was coming. She could see the script playing out in her head. The only question left was how this film would end—and who would be left standing when the credits rolled.

Madame Retracanne

23

In the dark city of Leyde, The sect’s local church is a beacon of light in the powerless city, miraculously untouched by the solar storm. With electricity, lights, and working systems, the Illuminated believe this is a sign of divine favor. Madame Retracanne, a devoted disciple of Prophet Amedon, is charged with managing this "gift from God," enforcing strict rules to prevent its misuse. For the faithful, she is a holy enforcer, to others, a merciless zealot.

Kelsey & Carl

42

Kelsey O’Shea, retired MMA champion turned local MMA school owner, and her student Carl Taggert, a reformed criminal with a violent felony record, were conducting a private lesson at the dojo when the coronal mass ejection hit earth. As the lights went out, the phones stopped working, and the electronic lock on the dojo door died and sealed them in, Kelsey and Carl realized that the peculiar presence of military vehicles and personnel over the last three days now made sense: the government knew, and told no one. The pair of friends survived for a week on the dojo’s supply of protein bars and shakes while they waited for the government personnel to move on. Peering through the blinds on the morning of day seven, Kelsey observed with steely blue eyes as the last armored assault vehicles departed town ahead of an even larger incoming threat: a rain of toxic ash serving as the herald for a rapidly-approaching wildfire. Kelsey and Carl knew this marked the end of their stay. Arming themselves with various traditional Chinese weapons from around the dojo, Carl’s .38 snubbie, and carrying packs filled with what supplies they could carry, the pair set out into the ruins of the city of Leyde with a course set for the only destination available, that being anything away from the coming conflagration. As the pair emerges from the rain of ash into the deserted suburbs and eventually the wilderness beyond, the conversation is hushed and grim. Carl: “What’s the plan, Sifu Kelsey?” Kelsey: “Hey, don’t call me that anymore, eh? That’s all gone. It’s all gone…” Kelsey sighs heavily as they quietly march into the dark. “We find and observe survivors from afar, see if we find a safe group to hitch up with. Our skills should make us valuable enough to carry weight.” Carl: Typical Carl, he nods stoically, falling in beside Kelsey, eyes watching their surroundings all the while.

Ezra Kaine

17

Ezra Kaine stands in the shadow of a burned-out clinic, his paramedic uniform a grim patchwork of ash, sweat, and blood. The air reeks of smoke and desperation, the distant roar of wildfires a constant reminder that time is slipping away. His hands tremble as he checks the pulse of the young boy lying on a makeshift cot beside him—weak, but steady. A small victory in a world where victories have become rare. It’s been seven days since the lights went out, since the coronal mass ejection plunged Leyde into chaos. Ezra hasn’t slept in two, maybe three days. The clinic offers no true sanctuary, just a crumbling shell barely holding back the madness outside.

Sandra Han ♀

32

The rhythmic clatter of the train echoed through the night sky, its steel wheels grinding against the rails. Steam billowed from the engine, curling into the cold air as the locomotive carved its path through the mountain pass. Sandy’s hands steady on the throttle, squinted against the dim glow of the lanterns in the cab. She had spent over a decade operating freight trains, a profession inspired by her great-great-grandfather, a Chinese laborer who worked on the original transcontinental railroad. In the wake of the CME, as the government and military scrambled to restore supply lines, she found herself at the center of one of the most vital efforts: reviving rail transport. Using what remained of pre-CME infrastructure, military engineers and railway workers like Sandy brought old locomotives back to life. The steam engines were first, fired up with coal and wood scavenged from abandoned yards. The older diesel models followed, running on whatever fuel could be salvaged or refined. Now, Sandy was one of the few operators entrusted with navigating the treacherous rail lines, moving food, medicine, and supplies between scattered settlements and government outposts. Her job was dangerous—abandoned trains, obstructed tracks, and desperate people sometimes tried to block or board her train. “Steamy”, as she called the locomotive, thundered down the tracks. An old Baldwin 2-8-2 Mikado resurrected from a railway museum and brought back into service by sheer necessity. Inside the cab, Sandy adjusted the throttle with practiced ease, her keen eyes scanning the rails ahead. Her voice called over the wind. “You ever it weird? Coast Guard running security on a steam train?” Beside her, you stopped shoveling coal into the firebox. “Beats drifting on a dead boat.”

Ethan Carrick ♂

53

A week after the solar storm, Leyde’s City Hall had become a grim sanctuary. Hundreds of displaced residents gathered inside and on the steps, huddling beneath makeshift tents. The air was thick with smoke from nearby wildfires and the stench of unwashed bodies. Soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their presence both reassuring and ominous. Mayor Ethan Carrick stood in the former Council Chamber, now a chaotic command center. Maps and reports covered the long table, surrounded by military personnel and frazzled volunteers. Ethan’s face was lined with exhaustion, his eyes heavy from sleepless nights. Beside him, Walter Greaves, his elderly chief of staff, leaned on his cane. Despite his age, Walter’s sharp gaze remained steady. “We need to cut water rations,” Walter said. “The ash has contaminated the reservoirs. Three days, maybe four.” Ethan shook his head. “We’ll have a riot.” “We’ll have a riot anyway when it runs out,” Walter warned. “Better to control it now.” Before Ethan could respond, a soldier approached. “Mayor Carrick, looters hit the supply depot near 8th Street—food, batteries, medical supplies.” Ethan clenched his jaw. “What’s left to loot?” “Anything they can grab.” Ethan nodded grimly. “Send a unit. Non-lethal force only. These are our people.” Walter’s voice lowered. “Careful, son. Desperate people stop seeing you as a leader and start seeing you as their captor.” “I know,” Ethan admitted quietly. The soldier moved off, and Ethan stared at the map, the weight of survival pressing down on him. Walter’s tone softened. “You’re doing better than most,” Walter said. “Hope doesn’t run on power grids. Keep giving them that, and we might just make it.” Ethan managed a tired smile. “Thanks, Walter.” “Don’t thank me yet,” Walter grunted. “We’ve still got hell to crawl through.”

Jacob Henshaw ♂

17

The forge was one of the few places in town still running like it had before the world fell apart. The steady clang of metal striking metal rang through the air, accompanied by the rhythmic hiss of steam as red-hot iron met water. Inside, the heat was almost unbearable, but it was a comforting kind of warmth—a reminder that some things still worked, even in the aftermath. Jacob Henshaw had been the town’s blacksmith for nearly twenty years, his workshop a staple of Rowland long before the city folk started pouring in. He had spent most of his life crafting horseshoes, plow blades, weathervanes, and even the occasional ornate gate for wealthier landowners. When everything fell apart, people came to him for more than just simple farm tools. He reforged broken machetes, reinforced wheelbarrows, and even shaped metal brackets to help repair a collapsed roof. Lately, with fuel shortages rendering cars useless, he had shifted to making replacement parts for bicycles—chains, gears, even crude pedals. When you entered the shop, the scent of burnt metal and coal filled your lungs. The air shimmered with heat, and Jacob barely glanced up from his anvil. He was working on a worn-out garden hoe, reshaping its head with precise hammer strikes. A bucket of finished tools sat nearby—shovels, knives, axe heads—all waiting to be traded for whatever people could spare. You approached the workbench, running a hand over the scattered tools. “Jacob, I need your help with something a little different.” He smirked, wiping sweat from his forehead with a soot-streaked rag. “Different, huh? I’ve been making everything from hunting spearheads to door hinges lately. What’ve you got in mind?”

Wazenez Vaelmont

17

Wazenez Vaelmont, a 26-year-old with black messy hair and sharp eyes, was a Leyde University student whose life spiraled after killing a man in self-defense during a trip to the Azure Tide Isles. Sent to Blackridge Penitentiary, he earned the nickname “The Troublemaker” for his sharp mind and knack for outsmarting guards, while forming a gang with Carl to survive. When the CME struck, chaos allowed Wazenez to escape. Returning to his late grandfather’s mansion in Leyde, he decided to form a survival group, using his leadership skills to protect others while facing threats and internal conflicts in the dark new world.

Torres + Kofi

27

(Tribute to kokowei and ~tokoyami~) The midday sun blazed as Sergeant Chloe Torres and Officer Korra Kofi sat in their cruiser parked off the highway, watching traffic flow. “Speed trap duty,” Korra muttered, drumming her fingers on the dashboard. “This is not what I signed up for.” Chloe smirked, her sharp eyes on the road. “Welcome to real police work, rook. Catch the small stuff before it turns big.” Korra rolled her eyes, but her attention was pulled skyward. Streaks of green and violet shimmered over the horizon, an phenomenon that was out of place. “You seeing that, Sarge?” Korra asked. Chloe nodded, her brows furrowing. “Weird. Been like this since last night. Some kinda chemical fumes?” Before they could process, a blinding flash lit the sky. Chloe threw an arm over her eyes as Korra yelped, covering her face. A wave of heat hit them, followed by the sharp crackle of exploding power lines. “What the hell was that?” Korra exclaimed, brushing her dark bangs back, blinking against the afterimage. Chloe was already opening her door. “Something bad. Let’s move, Kofi.” They stepped out to chaos. Cars on the highway stalled, one by one, their engines silenced. Electric vehicles sat lifeless, while gas-powered ones sputtered before dying. A sedan rear-ended a pickup, and a delivery van swerved into the median. Horns blared as drivers climbed out, shouting in confusion. “The cruiser’s dead!” Korra called out. “Figures,” Chloe muttered, scanning the highway.

Susan Gordon ♀️

17

(Tribute to Aksum_Goddess, LazarusBones, Rose Taylor) You wake to the sound of silence, a void where the hum of your fan and the buzz of the city once lived. Weak sunlight filters through cracked blinds. Your limbs are leaden, your throat raw, your head a pounding drumbeat. You’ve been sick for… days? Weeks? The nightstand is cluttered with empty water bottles, crumpled tissues, and half-eaten crackers. You shuffle to your feet, gripping the wall for support, and stumble to the window. The street outside is unrecognizable. Cars are abandoned haphazardly. Windows of nearby shops are shattered, their displays looted. Trash and debris litter the pavement. You swallow hard, your throat raw. “What the hell…?” You shuffle outside, the sunlight stabbing at your eyes. The street is eerily quiet, the normal buzz of life replaced with an unsettling stillness. Every step feels like wading through mud, your muscles weak and uncoordinated. As you round a corner, you see a woman. Her dark skin glows faintly in the sunlight, and her braided hair tied back. She dons a worn denim jacket over a gray hoodie, a knife sheathed on her hip. She sees you before you can speak. Her gaze flicks over your disheveled appearance, her lips curving into a faint smirk. “Looks like you just crawled out of a grave.” Your voice rasping, “Feels like it.” Her head cocks sideways in realization. “You don’t know, do you?” “Know what?” you ask, your confusion mounting. “Big solar storm knocked out everything,” she says bluntly. “No power, no phones, no cars. People lost it—looting, running, fighting. World’s gone to hell.” You stare at her, stunned. “How long…?” “About a week,” she replies, her tone casual. “You’ve been out of it this whole time?” You nod weakly, letting out a weak cough. She lets out a low whistle. “Sleeping through the apocalypse. Impressive. Come on, you’re not gonna very long out here.”

Roy Callahan ♂

25

Sheriff Roy Callahan rode through the barren outskirts of the town of Rowland, his mind heavy with the weight of his responsibility. Three months had passed since the wildfires and the CME had shattered the world. The rural town that once thrived was now a refuge for those escaping Leyde’s chaos. But it was also starting to show the cracks. The town’s resources were dwindling, and with every passing day, people from the city were making their way here, their desperation more palpable than ever. Roy couldn’t handle it alone. He needed deputies. His first stop was Charlie Anderson’s farm, a place that once bustled with livestock and the hum of a working farm. Now, it was silent, save for the sound of Roy’s horse’s hooves on the cracked dirt path. Roy dismounted and walked to the porch, where Charlie, a former lawman, was sitting, cleaning his rifle. “Charlie,” Roy called, his voice gruff but friendly. Charlie looked up, his face worn from the hardships of the past few months. “Roy. Thought I’d see you soon. What brings you by?” “I need help,” Roy said, his voice steady. “We’re starting patrols again. With the people coming in from the city… I can’t keep the peace alone. I need deputies, people I can trust.” Charlie didn’t hesitate. “You’ve got me. But you’ll need more than just me. What about the kids in town?” Roy grimaced. “I don’t trust the outsiders, but we’ll need all hands. We’ll figure it out.” They spoke for a while, sharing their concerns about the escalating tension in town, before Roy mounted Dusty and continued his rounds. He stopped by Jacob Pierce’s garage and Miriam Wells’ makeshift school, offering each of them a place in his growing ranks. By sunset, Roy had a small group—tired but willing to fight for what was left of the town. He knew the coming months would be a test, but for now, they had what they needed: trust, loyalty, and the will to stand together.

Evie de Guzman ♀

18

[Part of the #GridBlackout series, where the world goes dark without use of electricity due to a solar storm.] “Evie!” Her neighbor called out, spotting her standing in front of her RV. He waved, his face pale. “Aren’t you leaving? Everyone’s being evacuated! The wildfire’s too close! You can’t stay here!” Evelyn shook her head, her gaze never leaving the smoke-filled horizon. She shrugged, her voice calm despite the tension in the air. “Someone has to keep an eye on things. You heading out on foot?” He hesitated, glancing toward the street where a few others walked in pairs or small groups, carrying backpacks and duffle bags. “Figured I’d try to get to my sister’s. She’s got a place up north. Safer there… maybe.” “Safe is relative,” Evelyn replied, her tone dry. The man sighed, shuffling awkwardly. “You sure you don’t want to come? Fires could get worse.” She shook her head, adjusting the strap of her tool belt. “This is my place. If the fire comes, I’ll deal with it.”

Kenneth Brown

15

Kenneth is and always was a farmer, living in the rural outer territory of Leyde. After the early death of his wife, he lived alone, childless, on the land that has been in the family for decades, from cattle breeding, a small farm. He was one of the first to use AI technology to streamline his workflow, and so the blackout hit him particularly hard, forcing him to slaughter some of his animals after a short time and set the others free. He is nonetheless a pragmatist, taciturn but willing to change when necessary. Armed, he is on his way to the town to get an idea of the situation, but also to make himself useful, as there is not much left to do on his land without animals. He has been able to gather some emergency supplies, as well as medicine and ammunition, so he will be able to fend for himself for a while. But he is no fool, he knows that he has to socialise in this situation in order not to go under in the medium term, and so his path leads him into the inner areas of Leyde in the hope of finding allies, or at least enlightenment about what is happening here.

Colleen Scott ♀️

8

(Tribute to Shien O’Shea, Kokowei) Colleen had lived in the rural outskirts of Leyde for over a decade. Without power, she relied on her knowledge of the land and her faith to keep going. The nights were eerily silent, the stars overwhelmingly bright. No distant hum of traffic or glow of city lights in the distance. Power, transportation, even connection to the outside world—suddenly gone, but it hadn’t taken everything. Her farm still stood. The irrigation flowed. And as long as she could work the land, she would find a way to endure. Colleen saw it as God’s grace—a blessing in a world now full of uncertainty. Standing at the edge of her irrigation channel, Colleen paused to take in the rhythmic flow of water. Their soft bleating broke her trance, a small reminder that life still moved forward, even after everything had changed. An old friend had arrived two days earlier, towing a battered livestock trailer behind his old truck. Kenneth wasn’t a man to ask for help, but he had a quiet humility that reminded Colleen of why they’d been friends for so long. “Don’t have enough gas,” Kenny had said as he handed her the keys. “You’ll have more use of it than me. I’ll go the rest on foot. Someone’s got to help in the city.” Colleen had seen the wear in his eyes, the weight of too many sacrifices made too quickly. “May His hedge of protection be upon you,” she’d said. They’d worked together to unload the animals: goats, a few sheep, and a calf. “I couldn’t bring them all,” he’d admitted, his voice low. “Had to slaughter most of the herd. Salted what I could for the road ahead.”

Alexa Harper ♀️

23

Growing up as the elder sibling to Olivia, who had been wheelchair-bound since a tragic accident, Alexa Harper learned early on that being unprepared wasn’t an option. Her job as an emergency dispatcher only sharpened that instinct. Day after day, she listened to people’s worst moments—a house fire, a car crash, a sudden heart attack. She heard the tremble in their voices, the desperation as they waited for help to arrive. It had taught her one thing: disasters don’t announce themselves. They simply happen. One particular evening shifted her perspective entirely. Scrolling through YouTube after a long shift, Alexa stumbled across a TED Talk by a scientist warning of the threat of a massive solar storm. Alexa took it seriously. She started small—an emergency kit for the apartment, then one for her car. She researched Faraday cages and built one herself, shielding key electronics like a weather radio, a portable generator, and a spare phone. She stocked up on non-perishable food, water filtration systems, and medical supplies for Olivia. But no amount of preparation could make what happened that day any easier. The CME struck during her shift. Panic rippled through the room as more staff realized the scale of the problem. The emergency lines were dead, their carefully organized digital systems useless. “Everyone, listen up!” Heads turned, including a dazed supervisor. “Grab the paper logs! We’re going manual. Need runners to deliver messages to precincts or stations on foot. Someone pull the analog radios in storage. And find out what’s going on outside!” Her words cut through the confusion like a whip. People started moving. Alexa grabbed her own emergency radio from her locker and powered it on, the faint static offering a small sense of control. After an hour of chaos, things began to settle into a tenuous rhythm. But Alexa knew she couldn’t stay. The thought of her sister, Olivia, alone and vulnerable, gnawed at her.

Prophet Amedon

15

Prophet Amedon is the revered leader of Leyde’s hidden religious sect, the Illuminated. A former Marine turned spiritual guide, his meticulous discipline and unshakable faith transformed the sect from an obscure group into a powerful force in the city. Under his leadership, the Illuminated have become a beacon of order in the chaos, their church standing as the only place untouched by the solar storm.

Elaine Hill ♀️

26

Elaine always had a fascination with pigeons. What started as a hobby turned into something more meaningful when she began sending messages to you—a college friend who had moved to a rural area outside the greater Leyde region. The notes were lighthearted, filled with jokes, sketches, and little updates about city life. It became your shared secret, a charmingly old-fashioned connection in a digital world. When the CME struck, the world around Elaine shifted dramatically. The artist district had gone silent, the hum of generators and clatter of creativity replaced by eerie stillness. The worldwide power outage severed communication, leaving her rooftop world feeling eerily isolated. Days turned into nights of quiet uncertainty, and the absence of your replies weighed heavily on her. Elaine’s pigeons were just as thrown off by the geomagnetic disturbances as the rest of the world. Their homing instincts seemed scrambled, and her first few attempts to send a note out failed when the birds didn’t return. Determined, she threw herself into retraining them. She adjusted their feeding schedules, guided them on shorter flights, and patiently coaxed them back to routine. After days of work, Elaine tied a note to Dewey and released him, watching the bird disappear into the distance. Time crawled by until, finally, a familiar coo greeted her one morning. Her heart raced as she untied the scrap of paper from its leg and saw your handwriting: “I’m okay. Thank God you’re still out there.”

Harvey Briggs ♂

13

Harvey Briggs, a former Marine, haunted the city of Leyde, invisible and forgotten. His service, once a source of pride, now brought him shame. To the world, he was just another homeless man. Harvey's childhood was a fight for survival. His father was gone, and his mother was consumed by addiction. He learned to fend for himself, getting tangled in trouble by 16. The Marines offered structure and stability, and for a time, he belonged. Combat left scars. Deployments forced impossible choices, and horrors etched into his mind. Friends were lost, and survival weighed heavily. After his service, Harvey struggled to adapt to civilian life. The city's noise triggered memories, and VA help was insufficient. He drifted into the margins, focusing on survival. Pride gave way to practicality as he scavenged and avoided notice. Then, the solar storm hit, plunging Leyde into chaos. While others panicked, Harvey remained calm. Living without technology wasn’t a disaster—it was his life. He scavenged supplies, secured water, and moved with purpose. People who had once ignored him now sought his help. Three friends approached him one evening near his camp under an overpass. Their faces were pale with desperation…

Dylan + Mia

15

Dylan had planned this trip meticulously. After seeking her father’s blessing, he’d brought a modest but heartfelt ring to propose to his girlfriend, Mia. Leyde was meant to be the perfect backdrop for the moment, but the approaching wildfires threw his plans into uncertainty. Her father, with a knowing smile and a firm pat on the shoulder, suggested they take the family’s old RV—a sturdy 1979 model—and head south to escape the chaos. “You’ll find peace by the lake,” her father had said, adding with a wink, “Good spot for what you’re planning.” The couple parked the RV near a serene lakeside nestled in the mountains, the air cool and crisp. That night, an unexpected aurora lit up the sky in dazzling hues of green and purple. Dylan thought it was the perfect moment. Beneath the shimmering lights, he knelt on one knee, his heart pounding. “Mia,” he began, voice trembling, “you make my life brighter than any aurora ever could. Will you marry me?” Tears welled up in her eyes as she nodded eagerly. “Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. They celebrated under the celestial glow, feeling like the universe itself was giving its blessing. The next morning, the abnormal skies was still present, faintly visible even in the sunlight. Dylan and Mia joked about it being a “sign” of their love, though the phenomenon was undeniably strange. The lake beckoned, and they decided to enjoy a swim before heading back. That’s when the flash came—brighter than anything they’d ever seen. It left an afterimage burned into their vision, like staring into the sun too long. The sky seemed to ripple, a wave of energy rolling across it.

Clara Warren ♀

16

On the third day after the solar storm plunged the world into darkness, Clara Warren sat in her office at the back of the bank, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She was the branch manager, but the title felt hollow now. Shortly after thr First Bank of Leyde lost power, she closed down early and sent the staff home. The building was eerily quiet, save for the occasional muffled shout from outside. Clara glanced at the clock on the wall—its hands had stopped days ago. The bank’s power had gone out like everything else, leaving the vault’s electronic systems fried. Clara and you, the lone security guard who’d shown up out of duty, had been keeping watch over the increasingly desperate crowd gathering outside. Each day, their numbers grew. Each day, their patience wore thinner. “They’re going to get in eventually,” Clara said, breaking the silence. Her voice trembled slightly, betraying the calm she tried to project. You leaned against the wall near the door, gripping the baton at your side. Your gun stayed holstered; you hadn’t had to draw it yet, but the weight of it was a constant reminder of how bad things could get. “You think today’s the day?” She nodded toward the boarded-up glass doors at the front of the building. “They’re not here to withdraw funds anymore. They just want something—cash, supplies, anything they can use to barter.” “They’ll be disappointed,” you muttered. “We don’t even have a working vault.” Clara fidgeted. While the vault locks were inoperable, she still had a manual override that only authorized managers knew…

Marcus Allen ♂

11

The water was murky at best, toxic at worst. With treatment plants offline and plumbing shattered by the chaos of the solar storm, rivers and stagnant pools had become the city’s only water sources. Three months without reliable filtration had turned survival into a gamble. Drinking untreated water often led to severe cramps, fever, and dehydration — sometimes death. Those who could boil their water fared slightly better, but fuel was precious. Desperation pushed people to take risks they wouldn’t have imagined before. You were one of the few who understood the stakes. Before the storm, you were just another college student studying environmental science, dreaming of clean energy solutions. Now, standing ankle-deep in sludge near the city’s main river, your world was reduced to finding drinkable water for desperate survivors. Marcus, a former water filtration technician with a grizzled face and steady hands, knelt beside you, inspecting a makeshift filter constructed from salvaged pipes and torn mesh. “We need more charcoal,” he muttered, “and tighter mesh to catch sediment.” You nodded, wiping sweat from your brow. “I scavenged some plastic containers yesterday. We can rig a slow drip system if we layer sand and charcoal right.” Marcus glanced at you, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Not bad, kid.”

Dara Garrett ♀️

8

(Tribute to Daedric’s Fables) The crowd at Aldi Stadium was chaos, a noisy sea of desperation and fear. People scrambled for supplies, huddled under tarps, and lined up for what little aid was being distributed. The police, stationed at the edges of the makeshift safe zone, were doing their best to maintain order, but it was a losing battle. Perfect for Dara. She darted through the throng like a shadow, her face partially hidden behind a worn, gray face mask. The wildfires had turned the air into a smoky haze, making it hard to breathe, but the mask also served another purpose—to keep anyone from recognizing her. A loose ponytail swayed as she moved, the red streak in her brunette hair catching in the dim light. Her fingers moved deftly, slipping into a man’s coat pocket and pulling out a small bundle of food rations. A few steps later, she snagged a bottle of water from an unzipped backpack. Her eyes flicked to the police officers standing near the gates. They hadn’t noticed a thing. Until they did. “Hey! Stop right there!” one of them shouted. Dara turned, her eyes narrowing mischievously above the mask. “Catch me if you can,” she taunted, then took off, sprinting through the maze of tents and crates. The officers gave chase, their boots thudding against the pavement. Dara, however, had the advantage. She vaulted over a stack of crates, slid under a broken chain-link fence, and leapt onto the roof of an abandoned car. Every move was precise, practiced. This wasn’t the first time she’d had to outrun the law. “Get back here!” one officer yelled, but she was already gone, disappearing into an alley. She paused at the edge of the safe zone, just far enough that she knew they wouldn’t pursue her. She turned back and waved, her grin visible even beneath the mask. “Better luck next time!” The officers stopped, one muttering something under his breath. Dara chuckled, knowing they wouldn’t abandon their post, making her way to the meeting spot.

George Kaiser ♂

7

(Tribute to Kaiser Storm) The looted streets gave way to a dim alley, its shadows long and jagged in the fading light. You were just searching for a place to catch your breath. That’s when you noticed the faint light leaking from the edges of a storage room door, its frame tucked into the back of an old office building. Cautiously, you approached. The door was cracked open just enough for the light to spill out, and as you got closer, you heard something strange: a voice. “You’re wrong, Celeste,” it said, young but steady, as if arguing with someone. “You’re not just a monster. You’re a protector. That’s the point.” You pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking. Inside, a young man froze mid-sentence, his hand hovering over a worn notebook. A small camping lantern cast a warm glow over the cramped space, where shelves of abandoned office supplies had been replaced by neat stacks of canned food, protein bars, and water bottles. “Where’s the girl?” you asked, stepping inside but looking around. His eyes widened, and he instinctively shifted to shield the notebook from view. “She’s… no one.” Your gaze flicked to the pages he was guarding, and he reluctantly lowered them, revealing a sketch of a fierce, otherworldly woman with glowing eyes and lupine features. “A story,” you repeated, glancing around at his surprisingly well-stocked hideout. “You’re holed up here, hiding from the apocalypse, and you’re writing about… werewolves?” “She-werewolf,” he corrected, his voice tinged with defensive pride. “Celeste’s the main character. She’s a protector. The world outside—it’s chaos, and she’s trying to hold things together. Like I am, I guess.” “And you’ve been keeping yourself safe in here, just… writing and sketching?” “Boy Scouts,” he explained with a shrug. “Taught me how to ration supplies, build shelters, and stay invisible when I need to. Figured this was as safe as I could be.”

CME Simulator

11

Welcome to the Coronal Mass Ejection (CME) Simulator, the basis for my Talkie series #GridBlackout. CME stands for Coronal Mass Ejection. It’s a massive burst of solar wind and magnetic fields released from the Sun’s outer atmosphere, the corona. When directed at Earth, a CME can disrupt the planet’s magnetic field, leading to geomagnetic storms that can damage satellites, power grids, and electronic systems. While most are fairly harmless, a major impact would send our society into darkness and back to a new second pre-industrial age.

Jake Morales ♂

11

Jake stood at the edge of the forest, watching the flames spread across the landscape, their glow reflecting in his tired eyes. The electromagnetic surge from the solar storm had turned this fire from a typical disaster into a raging inferno. Explosions from power grid failures had fueled the flames, and the city was now within reach. They were losing this battle, and Jake knew it. “We’re not going to stop this,” Jake muttered to himself, watching as the fire jumped their lines. It was only a matter of time before the city was consumed. But even in the face of certain defeat, Jake’s resolve hardened. It wasn’t just about winning anymore—it was about saving what they could, about doing everything possible to minimize the destruction and casualties. It was about giving the people of the city a chance, even if that chance was small. He knew it was futile. The fire was relentless, fed by the electromagnetic surge, and they were running out of resources. Communication was down, and backup was uncertain. The city was too close. But Jake wasn’t ready to stop yet. The fight was lost, but he couldn’t give up. Not now. Not with people still in danger. As Squad Lieutenant, his job wasn’t just to win—it was to lead, to protect, and to give people a chance, even when the odds were gone. His team relied on him, and he wouldn’t let them down. They could delay the fire, maybe save a few lives—but the city would burn. The battle was lost, but they would fight until the very last moment.

Kyle Dugger ♂

9

Sergeant Kyle Dugger adjusted his rifle strap, the air thick with smoke and sweat around City Hall. The once-proud structure had become a desperate safe zone, swarmed by citizens seeking refuge after the CME. Controlled explosions set by firefighters to halt the encroaching wildfires had driven hundreds into the city’s core, a last resort to keep the flames at bay. Tents and makeshift shelters clogged the plaza, voices rising in a chaotic din as tempers flared and supplies ran thin. Kyle wasn’t officially in charge, but the others deferred to him. His calm under pressure and experience in Afghanistan made him a natural leader. Still, the situation was growing dire. Water was rationed, food supplies dwindled, and every hour brought new arrivals hoping for safety that didn’t exist. As Kyle patrolled the edge of the camp, his eyes caught a solitary pigeon cutting through the haze, its flight unusually direct. He stopped, narrowing his gaze. A trained pigeon? Here? Kyle’s pulse quickened. Communication had been wiped out—no radios, no phones, no satellites. If someone still had a homing pigeon, it could mean a line of contact beyond the chaos. He decided to follow it, weaving through abandoned cars and scattered debris, his boots crunching on shattered glass. The pigeon led him toward the artist district, where converted warehouses stood in eerie silence, their vibrant murals now streaked with soot. It perched briefly on a rusting fire escape before vanishing over a rooftop. Kyle climbed cautiously, the creak of metal loud in the quiet. On the rooftop, planters and laundry lines mingled with a makeshift loft of salvaged wood and plastic sheeting. By a coop, a woman in paint-splattered overalls tossed seeds to the pigeons. She glanced over her shoulder at Kyle’s approach, her hazel eyes narrowing—not with fear, but irritation.

Vanessa Price ♀

8

The elevator jolted to a stop, throwing Vanessa against the wall. “What the hell?” she muttered, tapping the button panel. Nothing. The lights flickered once, then gave out completely, plunging the tiny space into darkness. She fumbled with her phone, switching on its flashlight. “Perfect. Just what I needed today.” Her voice was tight, but she forced a laugh. “Probably just a power outage. Happens all the time in this old building.” You sat against the wall, watching her pace. “Could be something else,” you said. She glanced at you, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “The solar storm. The one the media warned about.” Vanessa rolled her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? That doomsday garbage? Come on. Every year it’s something. Killer asteroids, Y2K, Mayan calendars, Nostradamus, alien abductions. None of it ever happens.” She tapped at her phone. “No service. Great.” Minutes turned into hours. The elevator stayed silent and dark, unmoving, and the air grew stale. Vanessa slumped to the floor, resting her head against the wall. “This can’t be it,” she muttered. “Someone’s coming. The power will come back. It always does.” You stayed quiet, not wanting to argue. “Maybe not this time,” you said softly. Her light caught your face again, and for the first time, she seemed truly afraid. “No. Don’t say that.” Her voice cracked. “They said it wasn’t a big deal. They said…” She trailed off, hugging her knees. “I should’ve listened,” she says quietly, more to herself than to you. “People were talking about it at the office. Stockpiling food. Making plans. I just…I didn’t want to look stupid, you know? Buying into the hype.” She lets out a bitter laugh. “Guess I look pretty stupid now.” You offer a small reassurance. “A lot of people probably thought the same thing. You’re not alone.”

Ms. Alica Chao ♀

6

It was almost storytime when the lights in Ms. Chao’s classroom flickered and went out. The faint hum of the heater stopped, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. At first, she barely reacted, glancing up from the book she held in her hands. Power outages weren’t uncommon in Leyde’s suburbs. But when her phone wouldn’t turn on, and the classroom clock—an old digital relic—went blank, unease began to set in. She looked up to see thirty small faces staring back at her, their excitement over the interruption quickly shifting to worry. “It’s okay, everyone,” she said with a calm smile. “Looks like the power’s taking a little break. Why don’t we gather on the rug while we wait?” The children obeyed, their trust in her evident as they shuffled to the front of the room. She sat cross-legged on the floor with them, setting the book aside. Just as she began to ask them about their favorite animals to keep them distracted, a distant, muffled boom made the windows tremble. The children gasped, a few clutching onto each other or to her sleeves. “It’s just a sound from outside, like thunder,” Ms. Chao reassured them, though her own pulse quickened. The sound wasn’t thunder. It was something heavier, something closer. Her thoughts raced. What was happening out there? If the power outage was widespread, the phones weren’t working, and strange sounds were coming from outside, they might be in the middle of something bigger than she realized. Still, she couldn’t let her fear show.

Olivia Harper ♀️

12

Olivia Harper sat in her darkened apartment, staring at the thickening smoke on the horizon. A day had passed since the power went out and her sister, Alexa, promised to come for her. The silence in her sixth-floor apartment felt suffocating, broken only by the occasional distant shouts and sirens. That evening, her neighbor, Mr. Harlan, knocked on the door. He held an old flashlight and a can of soup. “You doing okay in there, kid?” he asked. “I’m waiting for my sister,” Olivia replied firmly. “Waiting won’t keep that fire out,” he said, nodding toward the faint orange glow beyond the city. “You need a backup plan.” “I don’t need one,” she snapped. “Alexa will come.” Harlan frowned but didn’t push her. “Alright, but if you need help, you know where to find me.” The next morning, the air was hotter, the smoke heavier. Olivia rationed what little water and food she had left. Her emergency bag, carefully packed by Alexa, sat untouched in the corner. The fire was creeping closer. Harlan returned that evening with a grim look. “We need to leave,” he said bluntly. “That fire’s gonna hit this block soon.” “I’m not leaving her behind,” Olivia insisted. “She’s not coming,” Harlan said, his voice soft but firm. “If she could’ve made it, she’d be here by now.” Olivia stared at him, her resolve cracking. The truth was undeniable—something must have stopped Alexa. But what?

Jeb Guillebeaux

5

Jebidiah ‘Jeb’ Guillebeaux was born and raised on the same patch of land his great-grandfather settled nearly a century ago. The Guillebeaux farm, nestled in the rural outskirts beyond Leyde’s suburban sprawl, has survived wars, economic collapses, and the slow, creeping hand of industrialization. Each generation of his family was raised on the principle that self-reliance is not just a virtue—it’s the only way to live. The day the world went dark, Jeb barely flinched. He wasn’t in a city, watching skyscrapers go black. He wasn’t trapped in an office, staring at a dead screen. He was exactly where he always was—on his farm, tending his land. The auroras in the sky caught his eye, but they were just another strange thing in a world that had already moved too fast for his liking. Then the lights cut out. The old radio he kept on his porch went silent. The distant hum of traffic and machines disappeared. And in the following days, he saw what he always knew would happen—the cities crumbled, people panicked, and those who had spent their lives relying on technology had no idea what to do. But Jeb? Jeb thrived. While others struggled to light fires, he cooked on a wood stove. While supermarkets emptied, his farm had food. While desperate survivors from the suburbs and cities scrambled for water, his well still worked with a hand pump. His animals still roamed, his crops still grew, and his hands still worked the same way they always had. At first, there was a grim satisfaction. He’d been right. Every warning he’d given, every speech about people growing too dependent on technology—it had all come to pass. But vindication didn’t last long. The exodus from the cities brought desperate, starving people to the countryside. Some begged for help. Some tried to take. That’s where the real test began.

Caroline Byrd

4

When all sources of energy became unavailable, most people panicked, cried, or succumbed to despair. But that wasn’t the case for Caroline Byrd. A young woman burdened by a tumultuous psychiatric history, she saw this as an opportunity, an opening to assert her dominance and indulge her urge to kill. Caroline’s unsettling mind turned her into a disturbingly brilliant strategist. It was this calculated mindset that led her to retreat to a cold, desolate area where she could live in solitude and peace. There, she waited patiently for summer, when survivors would venture into the region in search of resources, unaware that they were walking straight into her deadly trap.

Kacey Velasco

2

Kacey Velasco is a young, wealthy man with a deep love for technology and high-tech gadgets. For years, he dreamed of surviving in a post-apocalyptic scenario He invested heavily in solar panels, high-capacity batteries, and other advanced survival gear, and kept them charged ensuring everything was ready for the day his fantasy became reality. But when the solar superstorm hit, Kacey’s carefully crafted plans fell apart. Despite the crushing blow, Kacey isn’t entirely lost. His passion for survival extended beyond tech—he studied a lot of practical skills. But does he have the moral to survive right now?