Meteorite
Undeserved Ascendance
chapter 5
by
copier
· original author:
an188
As the sun dipped low on the horizon, painting the sky in fiery oranges and deepening purples, Danny Vos felt the familiar itch for his evening run. The day had been another triumph—classes aced with minimal effort, a flurry of social media notifications praising his latest gym selfie, and a quick hookup in the library stacks with a starry-eyed junior who practically begged for his attention. But now, as twilight crept in, it was time to worship the only thing that truly mattered: himself.
In his luxurious campus apartment, Danny stripped down with deliberate slowness, admiring his reflection in the full-length mirror. His milky-white skin gleamed under the soft LED lights, every muscle etched in perfect definition—those enormous, vein-laced shoulders, the colossal pectorals that strained against gravity, the eight-pack abs that rippled like armored plates. He flexed casually, watching his biceps peak into twin mountains, a smug grin spreading across his boyish face. "God, you're a work of art," he murmured, his sparkling blue eyes locked on his own image.
He selected his outfit with care: a pair of ultra-tight running shorts in sleek black, the fabric clinging to his powerful quads and hamstrings like a second skin, outlining every bulge and curve. Beneath, he slipped into a small, barely-there pair of underwear that offered minimal coverage but maximum emphasis on his assets. No shirt—why hide perfection? He laced up his black running shoes, skipping socks to feel the raw connection with the ground. Around his waist, he strapped a slim pouch, sliding his phone inside with a satisfying click. Finally, he grabbed his cheap sports headphones—the ones with the tangled wires he never bothered to replace, because who needed fancy tech when you were the real star?
With a final glance in the mirror—platinum blond hair tousled just so, lightning bolt tattoo peeking on his shoulder—Danny stepped out into the cooling evening air. The campus was quieting down, students retreating to dorms or parties, but he paid them no mind. He popped in his earbuds, blasting a high-energy playlist of thumping beats and aggressive rap, and started running at a steady, effortless pace. His long strides carried him past the manicured lawns of Havenridge College, through the bustling city outskirts where streetlights flickered on, and deeper into the encroaching woods that bordered the urban sprawl.
The road narrowed, traffic thinning to nothing as he hugged the shoulder, his muscular legs pumping rhythmically. Sweat began to form almost immediately, beading on his forehead and trickling down his temples, carving salty paths over the deep valleys of his collarbones and the swells of his chest. Each droplet caught the fading light, making his skin shimmer like oiled marble. He felt alive, invincible—the wind whipping through his messy hair, his heart rate climbing in perfect sync with the music. No one around; just him, the road, and the endless affirmation of his superiority.
Venturing further, Danny veered off the asphalt onto a side dirt path, the crunch of gravel and leaves underfoot adding a primal edge to his run. The woods thickened around him—tall pines and oaks forming a shadowy canopy, the air growing cooler and scented with earth and resin. The sun vanished fully now, swallowed by the horizon, leaving a velvet sky where stars began to prick through like distant diamonds. The place was utterly empty, devoid of hikers or cyclists; he was alone, as he preferred. Completely absorbed in the run, his mind tuned out everything but the burn in his muscles and the pulse of the bass in his ears. Sweat poured freely—dripping from his pecs, sliding down the chiseled ridges of his abs, soaking into the waistband of his shorts. His body moved like a machine: quads flexing with explosive power, calves tightening into diamond-hard shapes, arms swinging in controlled arcs that made his deltoids and triceps dance under the skin.
The path steepened into a hill, and Danny attacked it with relish, his breath deepening but never ragged. He powered upward, sweat flying from his brow, until he crested the top—a small clearing overlooking the darkened woods. He stopped, chest heaving, and pulled a water bottle from his pouch. Gulping deeply, he felt the cool liquid cascade down his throat, tracing invisible lines over his sweat-slicked torso. He took a long, satisfying breath, the night air filling his lungs, then glanced at his smartwatch. The time: a new personal best. A smug smile tugged at his lips, his strong chin lifting in self-satisfaction. "Of course," he muttered, voice laced with arrogance. "Better every time. Because you're the best."
Fishing his phone from the pouch, he swiped through a few notifications—flashes of alerts from his weather app and social feeds. One caught his eye: a meteor shower peaking tonight. He chuckled, pocketing the phone and tilting his head back. The sky was alive now, stars multiplying, and sure enough, the first streaks of light arced overhead—a celestial fireworks show just for him. "Wishing on a shooting star? How quaint," he quipped wittily to himself, his eloquent tone dripping with sarcasm. "As if I need wishes. But fine—make me a god. Wait, no... I already am." He laughed, a low, self-indulgent sound, and stood there for a few minutes, arms crossed over his massive chest, enjoying the spectacle. The meteors painted trails of fire across the blackness, a rare beauty that even he could appreciate, if only because it paled in comparison to his own.
Energized, Danny turned and began the run back, descending the hill with controlled speed, his body adapting seamlessly to the downhill pull. The path wound through the woods, the dirt soft under his shoes, music still blasting. But then—something unnatural. A brilliant streak, brighter than the others, hurtled directly overhead, so close he felt a rush of heated air. It slammed into the ground ahead with a deafening crack, the impact sending shockwaves through the earth. Danny stumbled, knocked off his feet, tumbling into the underbrush with a grunt.
He lay there for a stunned second, heart pounding, then pushed himself up. Dust and leaves clung to his sweat-drenched skin; he brushed them off impatiently, his manicured nails scraping lightly over his abs. "What the fuck?" he growled, standing tall again. Ahead, the path was marred by a fresh crater—smoking, jagged, about ten feet wide. Amazement flickered in his blue eyes as he approached cautiously, the air humming with residual energy.
What does he see?
1. Strong golden light forms from the crater.
2. Strong blue light comes out of the crater.
In his luxurious campus apartment, Danny stripped down with deliberate slowness, admiring his reflection in the full-length mirror. His milky-white skin gleamed under the soft LED lights, every muscle etched in perfect definition—those enormous, vein-laced shoulders, the colossal pectorals that strained against gravity, the eight-pack abs that rippled like armored plates. He flexed casually, watching his biceps peak into twin mountains, a smug grin spreading across his boyish face. "God, you're a work of art," he murmured, his sparkling blue eyes locked on his own image.
He selected his outfit with care: a pair of ultra-tight running shorts in sleek black, the fabric clinging to his powerful quads and hamstrings like a second skin, outlining every bulge and curve. Beneath, he slipped into a small, barely-there pair of underwear that offered minimal coverage but maximum emphasis on his assets. No shirt—why hide perfection? He laced up his black running shoes, skipping socks to feel the raw connection with the ground. Around his waist, he strapped a slim pouch, sliding his phone inside with a satisfying click. Finally, he grabbed his cheap sports headphones—the ones with the tangled wires he never bothered to replace, because who needed fancy tech when you were the real star?
With a final glance in the mirror—platinum blond hair tousled just so, lightning bolt tattoo peeking on his shoulder—Danny stepped out into the cooling evening air. The campus was quieting down, students retreating to dorms or parties, but he paid them no mind. He popped in his earbuds, blasting a high-energy playlist of thumping beats and aggressive rap, and started running at a steady, effortless pace. His long strides carried him past the manicured lawns of Havenridge College, through the bustling city outskirts where streetlights flickered on, and deeper into the encroaching woods that bordered the urban sprawl.
The road narrowed, traffic thinning to nothing as he hugged the shoulder, his muscular legs pumping rhythmically. Sweat began to form almost immediately, beading on his forehead and trickling down his temples, carving salty paths over the deep valleys of his collarbones and the swells of his chest. Each droplet caught the fading light, making his skin shimmer like oiled marble. He felt alive, invincible—the wind whipping through his messy hair, his heart rate climbing in perfect sync with the music. No one around; just him, the road, and the endless affirmation of his superiority.
Venturing further, Danny veered off the asphalt onto a side dirt path, the crunch of gravel and leaves underfoot adding a primal edge to his run. The woods thickened around him—tall pines and oaks forming a shadowy canopy, the air growing cooler and scented with earth and resin. The sun vanished fully now, swallowed by the horizon, leaving a velvet sky where stars began to prick through like distant diamonds. The place was utterly empty, devoid of hikers or cyclists; he was alone, as he preferred. Completely absorbed in the run, his mind tuned out everything but the burn in his muscles and the pulse of the bass in his ears. Sweat poured freely—dripping from his pecs, sliding down the chiseled ridges of his abs, soaking into the waistband of his shorts. His body moved like a machine: quads flexing with explosive power, calves tightening into diamond-hard shapes, arms swinging in controlled arcs that made his deltoids and triceps dance under the skin.
The path steepened into a hill, and Danny attacked it with relish, his breath deepening but never ragged. He powered upward, sweat flying from his brow, until he crested the top—a small clearing overlooking the darkened woods. He stopped, chest heaving, and pulled a water bottle from his pouch. Gulping deeply, he felt the cool liquid cascade down his throat, tracing invisible lines over his sweat-slicked torso. He took a long, satisfying breath, the night air filling his lungs, then glanced at his smartwatch. The time: a new personal best. A smug smile tugged at his lips, his strong chin lifting in self-satisfaction. "Of course," he muttered, voice laced with arrogance. "Better every time. Because you're the best."
Fishing his phone from the pouch, he swiped through a few notifications—flashes of alerts from his weather app and social feeds. One caught his eye: a meteor shower peaking tonight. He chuckled, pocketing the phone and tilting his head back. The sky was alive now, stars multiplying, and sure enough, the first streaks of light arced overhead—a celestial fireworks show just for him. "Wishing on a shooting star? How quaint," he quipped wittily to himself, his eloquent tone dripping with sarcasm. "As if I need wishes. But fine—make me a god. Wait, no... I already am." He laughed, a low, self-indulgent sound, and stood there for a few minutes, arms crossed over his massive chest, enjoying the spectacle. The meteors painted trails of fire across the blackness, a rare beauty that even he could appreciate, if only because it paled in comparison to his own.
Energized, Danny turned and began the run back, descending the hill with controlled speed, his body adapting seamlessly to the downhill pull. The path wound through the woods, the dirt soft under his shoes, music still blasting. But then—something unnatural. A brilliant streak, brighter than the others, hurtled directly overhead, so close he felt a rush of heated air. It slammed into the ground ahead with a deafening crack, the impact sending shockwaves through the earth. Danny stumbled, knocked off his feet, tumbling into the underbrush with a grunt.
He lay there for a stunned second, heart pounding, then pushed himself up. Dust and leaves clung to his sweat-drenched skin; he brushed them off impatiently, his manicured nails scraping lightly over his abs. "What the fuck?" he growled, standing tall again. Ahead, the path was marred by a fresh crater—smoking, jagged, about ten feet wide. Amazement flickered in his blue eyes as he approached cautiously, the air humming with residual energy.
What does he see?
1. Strong golden light forms from the crater.
2. Strong blue light comes out of the crater.
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·
June 13
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