June stood backed into a corner with nowhere to run. His shoulders hunched and arms hung limp at his sides while his eyes remained fixed on a broken patch of concrete by his feet. He didn't cry. He never cried in front of them. That just made it worse. The concrete had five cracks. June counted them again. One-two-three-four-five. Counting was safe. Numbers didn't hurt or yell. Sometimes they got mixed up in his head, but they never laughed at him.
"Hey, fridge baby." Nolan dragged out the words like a twisted melody. "Did they leave you in one of these? That why you turned out wrong?"
Jenna giggled, sharp and high. "No, dumbass. His mom dumped him at the church steps like trash. Couldn't even stand to look at him, let alone give him a proper name."
"She probably took one look and thought, 'Nope. Not raising a dumbass.'" Travis grinned like he'd delivered comedic gold. "Who could blame her?"
"Bet he still dreams about them," Jenna said. "Still thinks they're coming back. That's how stupid he is."
"Not stupid," Nolan corrected. "He's slow. Real slow. Doesn't talk, doesn't think, doesn't fight back. What do they call it now—developmental? No. Retarded."
Their laughter swelled. June stood motionless with knuckles white against his thighs. Blood had dried along his cheek from earlier and a tear ran down the collar of his shirt. He kept his head down, still counting the cracks in the concrete. The word "retarded" made his stomach hurt. He wanted to ask them "Why?" but the word got stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth, like always. So instead, he counted again. One-two-three-four-five.
Behind him was a broken refrigerator. It was rusted around the edges, its handle gone, half-buried in weeds and cigarette butts. It had been dragged from the junk lot weeks ago. No one remembered who found it first, only that it had become part of their little rituals. Its door hung open, the inside stripped of shelves. Someone had smeared a crude smiley face inside with what might have been ketchup, though it had long since turned brown.
Travis stepped behind June and gave him a shove toward it. "Go on. In you go. Home sweet home."
June stumbled but didn't fall. He turned slightly, one hand half-raised, the beginnings of a word forming in his throat. The word was "no," but it came out as a soft grunt. Words betrayed him when he needed them most.
"You don't get to say no," Nolan said.
Jenna grabbed his arm. Mason pushed him from behind. June tried to resist, but the hands were too many, the weight too strong. His muscles knew what to do—push back, run—but the commands from his brain came too slowly, like wading through deep water.
"...Stop it, pleaseee."
"It hurts!"
All of them giggled as they forced him forward before bending him in half and shoving inside. June hit the back wall hard, shoulder-first, knees knocking against the floor. Before he could turn or even breathe properly, they slammed the door shut behind him.
It was dark inside. Dark meant night. Night meant sleep. But June wasn't in bed. This thought confused him. Scared, June lunged forward, slapping his palms against the door. But it didn't budge. They must have wedged something against the handle outside.
"Let me out!" He pounded until his fists hurt. "Please!"
"Shut up, otherwise…" one of them spat, and then kicked the door. June immediately shut his mouth in fear of more beating.
He was beaten at the orphanage and beaten at school. He couldn't understand why everybody was so cruel. The concept of cruelty for entertainment was beyond his comprehension. He only knew that being different made people hurt you. He tried to think, but his thoughts wouldn't churn, the gears of his mind hardened in molasses. Every time he tried to imagine a way out, his head seemed to hit a wall, just great white blankness where ideas should be.
Clang!
June flinched. The others had thrown something at the refrigerator. The sudden noise scattered what few coherent thoughts he had managed to gather. He began rocking slightly, arms wrapped around his knees, and started counting his breaths in the darkness.
One-two-three-four-five.
Suddenly then, a scream tore through the darkness, jolting June from his focus. Not his scream. Outside. More screams followed. All five of them now. June pressed his hands against his ears, but the sounds still reached him. Bad sounds. Hurt sounds. Different from when they laughed at him. The refrigerator also suddenly felt strange. Colder. Its wall against his back beat like a heart. Like something was awake inside the metal.
"Let me out," he whispered, but not loud enough for anyone to hear.
Outside, car horns blared. Lots of them. All at once. June knew car horns meant danger or anger. This many horns meant lots of danger. Lots of anger. Then the ground moved beneath him. Shook. Like when Sister Margaret had shown them pictures of earthquakes and said, "The earth is dancing." This wasn't anything like dancing.
June tried to count again. One—
The refrigerator jerked sideways. His head banged against something hard. The count disappeared from his mind. People were running past the alley. He could hear their feet. Fast feet. Scared feet. Some fell down. They screamed too.
"Help," June called, louder this time. No one stopped. No one had the time to.
The metal around him grew so cold it burned his skin. June pulled his knees tighter to his chest, making himself small. Small was safe. Small could hide. More noises came. Breaking glass. Crashing cars. Something large and heavy falling. Buildings? Trees? June didn't know. The sounds mixed together like the paints he wasn't allowed to use anymore after he painted the orphanage cat…
A new sound started. Low at first. A growl, but not from any dog or cat June had ever heard. Slowly, the darkness inside the refrigerator changed. It got darker, if that was possible. More like the darkness was thick now. Like it was touching him.
June tried to remember what Sister Margaret said to do when scared. Prayer? Words wouldn't come. Breathing? He tried. In. Out. In—
Something crawled across his leg.
“Aaaaaa,”
June screamed. His own scream mixed with all the others outside. Too many sounds. Too loud. Too everything. The refrigerator shuddered. The growl became a voice, but not words June could understand. The darkness pressed against his skin, his ears, his closed eyes. It pushed into his nose, his mouth.
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The world tilted. The refrigerator wasn't on the ground anymore. It was falling. Or floating. Or both.
June's head felt too heavy. His thoughts scattered like marbles dropped on the floor. He tried to hold onto one, just one, but they all rolled away into corners he couldn't reach.
Finally, the noise became a wave that crashed over him, through him, drowning everything inside his head.
And then, nothing.
…20 Years Later.
:::[VOICE IN HEAD]:::
Passive Consciousness Bond Formed
Preservation Cycle Completed
Preserver Unit successfully neutralized via passive termination
Preservation Cycle Duration: Twenty Years
Preservation Unit (Fridge Monster): Expired
[First KILL REGISTERED]
Enemy Defeated
Name: Preserver Unit (Dormant Sub-Dungeon Monster)
Type: +++ Infected Hostile Entity
Classification: Biological-Hybrid
Status: Expired – Internal Energy Fully Expended
Cause of Death: Resource Depletion over 7,305 Days
Notes: Enemy entity remained in containment mode. No aggressive actions taken. Kill registered due to sustained survival within hostile domain.
[REWARDS PROCESSED]
EXP Gained: +20
Characteristic Absorbed: Preservation Core (Diluted)
Skill Unlocked: Stasis Lock, Deep Sleep
Title Acquired: [Preserved]
Passive Trait Acquired: [Cold-Tolerant I]
:::[June]:::
Level: 1
Class: [Unassigned]
Titles: [Preserved]
[PERSONAL RADICALS]
[STR] Strength: 3
[DEX] Dexterity: 3
[VIT] Vitality: 10
[INT] Intelligence: 1
[WIS] Wisdom: 1
[WILL] Willpower: 10
[CHA] Charisma: 10
[LCK] Luck: 5
[SKILLS ACQUIRED]
[STASIS LOCK]
Generate a localized temporal stasis field (1m radius)
Does not deal damage. Immune to target above [Level 3].
Duration: 3 seconds
Cooldown: 60 seconds
[DEEP SLEEP] — (LOCKED)
Effect: Puts the user in a frozen recovery state.
Triggered automatically in life-threatening situations.
Restores 100% health.
Duration: 12 hours.
Currently unavailable — cooldown active from first deep sleep.
[PASSIVE CHARACTERISTIC]
Cold-Tolerant I
Base resistance to cryo-environmental conditions and low temperatures.
Cleansed Heart
Immune to “Decay,” “Rot,” “Fungal Infection.”
[TITLES]
[PRESERVED] (Origin Title)
“You were preserved while the world changed. You are a relic in motion.”
Immune to “Decay,” “Rot,” “Fungal Infection.”
+[5]+ Free Radicals
[EXPERIENCE]
Total Available EXP: +[10]+
Required for Level 2: 100
You have 10 surplus EXP available. You may allocate it to increase your level or store it for later.
You have 5 Free Radicals available. You may allocate it to increase your Personal Radicals or store it for later.
[VOICE IN HEAD]
The Main Consciousness is unable to take action. Distribute Free Radicals to the most beneficial radical for adaptive survival…...
Allocating...
→ +5 to [Intelligence]
[INT]: 1 → 6
Personal Radical Table for General Reference:
***(Not meant to be taken too seriously—only up to around level 20. Beyond that, radical influence involves spoilers, so I haven't included the real one here.)