"Awright ladies and gents. Good luck out there," Captain Daevin called. He saluted the ninety three players exiting the ship that ferried them from the Outside to the Spawn island of the Fortnite arena. "Tomato be with you," he yelled as he sailed away.
"Thank you, ship captain!" Everyone yelled as they headed to the grass, armed with colorful pickaxes and big hopeful smiles. They disembarked and spread out amongst the in game lobby; pickaxeing building resources, competing in dance battles, and playing with the weapons lying around and they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
At first, no one minded. They enjoyed the extra few minutes to practice destroying wood pyramids and each other. A group of default skins competed on who could default dance for the longest without stopping. Some players played hide and seek tag and even had enough time for a final lightning round. But as seconds dragged on, more and more eyes turned toward the sky. There was no familiar sign of the dented blue painted schoolbus that would fly them over to battle island, nor the honk of it's infamous horn. Chatter turned incessant and impatient. Voices rose. A fight broke out between a Drift and an Omega skin as a default cowered in a bush.
The evening cerulean sky, just minutes ago a clean afternoon blue was rimmed with wavering purple clouds. Storm clouds. The warm breeze strengthened into a cold blast as the clouds crystallized farther in. Dark was falling rapidly and a silver bright moon rose in the east, throwing harried shadows on the worried players' faces.
An old John Wick, an esteemed skin known for his lightning fast building, scaled up a tree and peered around the island. Spotting nothing out of ordinary, he looked over battle island and spotted drop packages beginning to begin their descent. White hot cracks shattered across the sky as the purple clouds closed in. He shook his head with a frown and scaled back down to share the news to a frightened looking Zoey clinging to her lollipop pickaxe.
Anger was replaced with fear and confusion as the players debated on what would happen to them. Would spawn island be consumed by the storm or spared? How long would they be stuck here? Was communication to the Outside possible?
They tried everything. All the structures and trees were cut down, the ground pounded at unsuccessfully. A distant blow of a horn sounded and the players turned towards it hopefully. However, it was just a Calamity doing the horn emote. She cackled as she saw the hopeful-turned-disappointed faces.
A DJ Yonder pulled out a gray assault rifle and reloaded it. Climbing onto an overturned car with a grunt, he aimed at the cowering default girl and fired. She stumbled back but lost no health. The players murmured amongst themselves. On top of the inability to somehow voyage to battle island, they couldn't kill each other.. what could they do except sit in wait of their deaths?
Several more minutes ticked by, and the cold wind became stronger and more frequent, not to mention louder. A dead silence fell over the players as they realized their fate. They waited as the silent air, peppered with the occasional twitter of birds developed a low hum. The ominous hum increased in volume as a translucent blue wave closed in swiftly on them. The distant blasts of wind and crackling electricity echoed inside the wave stirred a final wave of panic in the players' stomachs. The Zoey skin was as white as marshmallow as she stared at the incoming destructor, but she was no longer frightened. Staring it down with remorseless blank eyes, she reverently knelt, facing the storm. She closed her eyes and looked down, awaiting the storm to overtake her body. Others followed her lead, silently kneeling without protest.
The John Wick that had scaled the tree shouted for her and dashed to grab her, but the remaining held him back. Gradually he stopped struggling and submitted grudgingly.
The storm consumed Zoey and in seconds she disappeared in a splash of mint blue light. John Wick made a strangled sound and turned away. A redhead default patted his back.
The storm wave was now flecked with flashes of mint blue as players 'took the L'.
In a very final attempt, the last survivors scrambled towards the opposite edge of the island. They threw themselves against the invisible barrier with no avail. By now, the storm had consumed half of spawn island. The catastrophe was closing in fast. They held their breaths and squeezed their eyes shut when suddenly lo and behold, a saving grace pierced the air. The battle bus horn! It rang loud and clear as it swooped down gracefully to the edge of the island, it's wheels just brushing the long bladed grass. As the relieved players finally mounted their flight, furious questions were hammered at the bus driver, who simply turned around and grinned.
"Sorry, cupcakes," he chuckled. "''T'was a maintenance break."