Character Name: Timothy "Tim" Thompson

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Physical Appearance: Tim is a slightly shy kid with a lean build and average height for his age. He has short, messy brown hair and wears glasses. He is often seen in casual clothes, preferring comfort to style.

Personality Traits: Tim is a quiet and introverted boy who prefers to keep to himself most of the time. However, he is not afraid to stand up for himself and his friends when the situation calls for it.

Character: Maya "Mayhem" Rodriguez

Age: 22

Gender: Female

Physical Appearance: Maya is a whirlwind of energy personified. She's petite, standing at 5'4", with a lean, almost wiry build. Her skin is tanned from spending too much time outdoors. Her hair is a choppy, uneven mess of dark brown curls that she usually pulls back into a messy ponytail or haphazard bun.

Personality Traits:

Fierce: Maya is fiercely independent and loyal to her friends. She doesn't back down from a challenge and is always ready to defend the underdog. This fierce spirit often manifests as impulsiveness.

Relationship with Timothy "Tim" Thompson:

Tim is Maya's rock. They've been friends since they were kids, practically inseparable. Tim, in stark contrast to Maya's impulsiveness, is calm, rational, and incredibly patient. He acts as Maya's voice of reason, often stepping in to prevent her from going too far off the deep end. He understands her better than anyone else, recognizing her vulnerability beneath her bravado. While he sometimes gets exasperated by her antics, he secretly admires her courage and unwavering spirit. Their friendship is a complex balance of teasing, support, and genuine affection.

Character Story: Ethan "E" Miller

Name: Ethan "E" Miller

Age: 24

Gender: Male

Physical Appearance:

Height: 5'10"

Build: Lean, bordering on scrawny. Spends more time hunched over a keyboard than at the gym.

Hair: Dark brown, often unkempt and falling into his eyes. He runs a hand through it when stressed, making it even more chaotic

Personality Traits:

Brilliant: Possesses a sharp, analytical mind that can decipher complex code and identify vulnerabilities in systems with ease.

Special Skills: Proficient in multiple programming languages (Python, Java, C++), network security, cryptography, reverse engineering, and social engineering. Can bypass almost any security system given enough time and motivation.

Motivations: Driven by a desire to protect the vulnerable and expose injustice. He believes in the power of technology to make the world a better place, but he's also aware of its potential for abuse.

.Character Name: Sofia "Sofi" Rodriguez

Age: 17

Gender: Female

Physical Appearance:

Height: 5'4"

Build: Slender, almost delicate. She's not weak, but carries herself with a gentle grace.

Hair: Long, wavy, and dark brown, often pulled back in a messy bun or ponytail. Her hair has a natural wave that frames her face softly

Personality Traits:

Shy: Inherently introverted, Sofi used to be almost cripplingly shy before Maya's influence. She avoids large crowds and finds it difficult to initiate conversations, preferring to listen and observe.

Creative: Art is her primary form of self-expression

The "Future Glimpse" app was a joke. A digital Ouija board for the chronically online. I'd even participated in the trend, snorting with laughter as it coughed up lines like, "A rainbow hides in the storm's belly," or "The moon weeps for lost sandals." Utter nonsense. Harmless fun. That's what it seemed like.

I downloaded it on a particularly lifeless Tuesday. My office, a beige box filled with the hum of fluorescent lights and the clatter of keyboards, was sucking the soul out of me one spreadsheet at a time. Maybe, just maybe, a bit of digital absurdity was what I needed.

My first reading: "Opportunity knocks; are you brave enough to answer?" So vague it could apply to anything from a discounted pizza to a job offer on Mars. I snapped a screenshot, added a laughing emoji, and posted it on my Insta story. My friend, Maya, got "The clock ticks forward, but time remembers." Equally nonsensical. We dismissed it as clever gibberish, the product of some bored programmer with a penchant for pseudo-intellectual pronouncements.

A week later, the script flipped. The predictions stopped being cryptic poetry and started getting... specific.

It began with a notification: "The 4:15 bus holds a shadow. Walk, instead." I usually took the 4:15 bus home. It was a mindless routine, a period of decompression between the soul-crushing office and the solitude of my apartment. The message felt unsettling, especially with the cheesy swirling galaxy background that was the app’s default. I brushed it off – just an eerie coincidence, a random alignment of algorithms.

That evening, I saw a news report: a minor accident involving the 4:15 bus. A fender bender, thankfully, no serious injuries. Relief washed over me, but a cold knot of dread tightened in my stomach. Coincidence? Maybe. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that it was something more.

The next one was even more direct. "The coffee shop on Elm will offer more than caffeine. Beware the spilled cup." I frequented the coffee shop on Elm every morning. Their lattes were my fuel, the difference between a functional me and a zombie stumbling toward the coffee machine. I considered skipping it, but the craving was too strong, the fear nagging but not yet overpowering.

I was extra cautious that morning, holding my cup with both hands, navigating the crowded space with the precision of a bomb disposal expert. I managed to get my latte and find a table without incident. I even started to feel a little foolish. Maybe I was overreacting.

Then it happened. A clumsy teenager, burdened with textbooks and a towering stack of pastries, rushed to the counter. He tripped, his elbow connecting with my arm. Coffee splashed down my sleeve, scalding hot against my skin. I yelped, jumping back, the latte painting a brown Jackson Pollock on the pristine white wall.

The pain was sharp, immediate. But the burning on my skin was nothing compared to the white-hot terror that consumed me. The app was right. It had predicted a spilled cup, a potentially dangerous one.

Panic started to creep in, a venomous vine wrapping around my throat and squeezing the air out of my lungs. What was this app? How could it know? Was I going crazy?

I tried deleting it, dragging the icon to the trash, emptying the bin. But the next time I unlocked my phone, the swirling galaxy was back, mocking me with its cheerful absurdity. I even contacted the developers, but the email address listed was bogus, a dead end leading to nowhere.

*bonus*

Sofia

The messages became more frequent, more ominous. They pulsed with a dark energy, each one a hammer blow against my sanity.

"A storm is coming. Seek shelter in silence." A massive thunderstorm hit the city that night, a furious display of nature’s power. Lightning fractured the sky, illuminating the rain-lashed streets. The power went out, plunging my apartment into darkness. I huddled in my bedroom, the rhythmic drumming of the rain against the window mirroring the frantic beat of my heart. Phone off, lights out, a knot of fear twisting in my gut.

Then came the most terrifying prediction yet. "The red door hides the raven's shadow. Do not enter." My apartment building had a bright red front door. It was an obnoxious, almost aggressively cheerful shade of red, chosen by the building manager, a woman with a penchant for all things bright and shiny. Did this mean I couldn't leave my apartment? Was I trapped, a digital prisoner in my own home?

The next day, the fear solidified into something tangible. I found a note slipped under my door. It was typed on plain white paper, no return address, no signature, just a single, chilling sentence: "The Raven awaits. He knows you know."

My blood ran cold, the words etching themselves into my brain like acid. The Raven. Who was the Raven? What did he want? The app wasn't just predicting events, it was orchestrating them. It was playing a game, and I was the unwitting pawn.

I couldn't stay in my apartment. I had to find Maya, show her the messages, maybe she could offer a rational explanation, a logical loophole in this terrifying digital riddle. But how could I leave without triggering whatever the "red door" prediction was? The thought of what awaited me on the other side of that scarlet barrier sent a shiver down my spine.

I decided to take the fire escape. It was rusty and creaky, a metal skeleton clinging to the brick wall. It bypassed the front door, a precarious route to freedom. As I descended, the metal groaning under my weight, I saw a figure standing on the street below, leaning against a black car.

The figure wore a long, dark coat that swallowed his frame, and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured his face. He was looking up at me, his presence radiating an unsettling stillness.

My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence of the street. This had to be the "Raven." It had to be.

I scrambled down the fire escape, adrenaline coursing through my veins, each step a victory against the creeping dread. I didn’t know what I was running from, but I knew I had to escape, had to break free from the app’s suffocating grip.

I ran for blocks, weaving through the crowded streets, desperately trying to lose myself in the anonymity of the city. I pushed past oblivious tourists, dodged distracted pedestrians, each step fueled by a primal instinct to survive.

*Bonus*

Ethan