"I look better when I'm not in my work overalls." He added a smile to his declaration to lubricate his conceit.

"It's a shame I'll never see you in anything else." She batted back his smile with an inviting grin of her own.

"Well it doesn't have to be that way."

"Oh no?"

A man barged past them, his stomach nearly knocking her into the next street.

"Hey! Watch where you're going. Are you alright?" He walked toward her offering her a hand but she declined it. 

"It's okay. We're standing on the steps of the busiest bank in the country and it's almost opening time." She checked her watched. "We're lucky we're not splattered everywhere." 

He smiled, not at her comment but at the dimples that formed when she stopped talking. She smiled back and re-adjusted her trench coat. It was summer, the sun was preparing to make this day one of the hottest on record, but no one batted an eyelid at her fashion choice. She looked too good for negativity.

"So when can I show you me, not in overalls?"

"In a different lifetime honey." She blew him a kiss, and turned up the stairs toward the bank.

"But I thought we..." The words escaped him. Partly because of the rejection but mainly because she pulled a loaded semi-automatic uzi from her coat.

Her heels clicked against the floor as she climbed the stairs and waltzed into the bank. The sound of bullets mixed with screams escaped from the revolving entrance.

If this was Hollywood he would have stormed into the bank. Somehow saved the day and began a two hour adventure breaking Hollywood records in the process. Setting up a financially successful sequel that was less well received by the critics. 

Not being Hollywood his legs stiffened and his heart beat quicker than a drummer showing off his repertoire. Each bullet and every scream tightened his muscles until there was silence.

Ernest Cline had an impossible act to follow after writing 'Ready Player One'. He could have written a sequel or an entire new story. He chose the latter and threw in some quirks that made 'RPO' such a hit. He named this new story 'Armada' and released it in 2015. 

"This must be it." He said.

"The old bat was right!" She removed her cap, dragged her hands through her dirty hair and flopped to the ground.

He grabbed one of the artefacts out of the box and analysed it. After a few rotations he realised he didn't know what he was looking for. He returned it to the box and checked the others. "They all look the same."

"Let me see." She pushed him out of the way, tore into the box and burrowed around. "What is this junk?" She tipped the box upside down.

"What the hell are you doing?" He tried grabbing the box from her, but she pushed him back. Showing no signs of her smaller frame.

The artefacts fell to the floor, nothing broke. She turned to him with an 'i told you so' smile. Turning back to the pieces, she sieved through them, "This can't be what the witch was talking about? They're just lumps of rubbish." She tossed one of the artefacts over her shoulder in disgust.

The boy rushed behind her to make sure the piece wasn't damaged. He picked it up and examined it. "You idiot! We don't even know what these... Oh my god!" She turned to face him.

The artefact glowed a fluorescent purple. "I think you broke it." He pulled it to his face and stared at it. From purple it flashed green and then tripled in temperature. "Ah!" The tips of his fingers seared and he dropped it.

"What are you doing?" She said. The artefact hit the floor. It quickly returned to purple. The boy waved his hands about, but his fingers still stung. In need of stronger measures he clustered his fingers together and blew on them.

As he emptied his lungs, his body froze. From heel to head he couldn't move. The artefact turned red and pulsed from dark to light.

Not realising the boy had frozen, the girl crept toward the pulsing object. Half a metre away she crouched down. She looked at it closely, "Hey stop messing around and look at this," she moved to within touching distance of the artefact when she froze too.

The artefact rose from the ground and hovered in the air. The girl let out a stifled moan, her fear was clear. The artefact swayed towards her face and stopped. If she had control of her eyelids she would have shut them tightly.

Marks and lines appeared across the artefact. They stayed for a second and then changed direction and twisted into something else. The red cooled to a pink glow and then the marks and lines stopped moving.

A voice oozed from the artefact. "Are you sure?"

Shock silenced the girls moans and groans.

"This is it. This is your story. It all begins here." Said the voice.

A blue light beamed from the artefact and shone first on the girl and then the boy. The moment the light touched them they vanished.

If you ever see one of my 'most listened to' playlists, you'll be sure to find The Red Hot Chilli Peppers. They've enthralled me for years.

"Start talking!" My neck burned from shouting. His face twisted, I wasn't sure if it was from my demand or that he was dangling from a cliff and desperate.

"Please! Help me! Please!" Fear ran through his voice.

I reached down and grabbed his arm. Scar and Mufasa's final face off played on my mind. I could have let him drop, he deserved to drop, but not today. I pulled him clear.

He rolled onto the cliff edge and breathed deep. "Thank you, thank you!"

I shoved my gun in his face. "Start talking!" I couldn't afford to waste time.

He rolled onto his back and raised his hands, as you do when a gun is pointed at your head. The scene looked normal, then a smile brushed his lips.

It was an ugly smile but it shouldn't have been here,  not at this moment. "I swear I'll shoot!" Fear found a new host in me.

"Rule number one kid, never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to stay alive." His smile graduated into a cackle.

I took the safety off my gun to re-affirm my position, partly to him, mainly for me.

"I killed them all! Everyone of them! Do you trust me now?" The cackles would have made The Joker envious.

All of them? My face asked the question but the words never made it to my mouth.

"Do you want to know whose neck I cut first?"

The word 'neck' brought back memories that I'd tried to bury. I emptied the gun. It wasn't the first time I'd shot one, but it was the first time I'd hit a human target. The bullets piercing his flesh sounded like stones dropping into water. He convulsed and writhed as he dropped.

I'd never killed anyone before, the event washed over me and I felt cold.

Laboured laughed frothed from his mouth. "You're not a bad shot kid." He sat upright, "Death isn't on my schedule today." He stood and brushed himself off. The bullet's dislodged themselves and fell to the ground. "Yeah, your friends gave me that look too. It's kind of a cross between 'what the hell?' and 'lord forgive me for my sins."