New York City. A loud, restless place where people chase fame, fortune, or just the next rent check.
You? You just live here. No dreams of making it big. No tragic backstory. Just you and your roommate Miko — crammed into a half-rented downtown studio where the sink leaks, the radiator screams, and you both share a bed frame with two different mattresses.
Miko’s a dreamer. Comics, anime, conspiracy boards. He swears you’re some kind of hero — chosen, gifted, maybe even divine. You like that stuff too... but come on. That’s all fiction. Right?
Then, one night, while restocking watermelons behind Niko’s 24/7 Market — the graveyard-shift job you both hate — Miko sees something.
A glowing rift. Floating in the alley. Buzzing. Warping. Real.
He panics, drops a melon, grabs the fake sword he bought off eBay, and comes sprinting through the store.
Miko: “Dude! DUDE! IT’S HAPPENING! It’s RIGHT THERE!”
You look up from the register. Yawn.
You clock out, grab your jacket, and mumble:
You: “Fine. I’ll go look. You coming or what?”
You’re not scared. Not curious. Because deep down…
It’s just another night in New York City.