It was supposed to be just another regular day. But it wasn't.
Breaking news. This is Elaine Myre, reporting live at 10 a.m. from the rooftop of our station building. You might be wondering why I'm up here… well, the answer is right behind me.
Just beside the sun, you can see it, a bright object streaking through the sky. No, that's not a second sun. That is the meteor everyone's been talking about, and it's falling fast.
If you haven't been living under a rock, you already know that a meteor was detected and expected to enter Earth's atmosphere today. But don't panic, according to experts, once it hits the atmosphere, it will break apart and burn up safely.
It's going to be visible all across the country, even in daylight, and the resulting meteor shower is expected to be a harmless, spectacular show we can all enjoy.
And of course, we'll be covering it live, right here on HKM News.
A small TV played the news in a cramped noodle shop wedged between two tall buildings on a busy street. Inside, Bob wiped tables like he always did, slowly, half-heartedly, like a man who knew the floor wasn't going anywhere.
"Bob! Wipe those tables properly!" Grandpa's voice boomed from the kitchen.
"I am," Bob called back, dragging the rag over the same spot twice. "Looks clean to me."
"It's not clean until I say it's clean!"
Bob shrugged and gave it a third pass. "There. Perfect."
"Do it again!"
Bob never thought much about life. After his parents died in an accident when he was a baby, something Grandpa never really talked about, he was raised in the same quiet neighborhood, helping run a modest noodle shop squeezed between bigger, flashier spots. It wasn't famous, but the regulars liked it. Grandpa cooked. Bob cleaned. That was life… simple, quiet, good enough.
He was hard to miss, 6'7", pushing 380 pounds, built more like a padded wall than a bodybuilder. Broad shoulders, soft belly, short messy hair, and small, heavy-lidded eyes that made him look like he'd just rolled out of bed. Not chiseled, not flashy. Just big. Steady.
A familiar laugh came from the doorway.
"Hahaha! At this rate, you're gonna get fired from your own family's business."
Bob looked up to see Gabe stroll in, waving lazily.
"Hey, handsome. What's with the outfit? You look like you're on your way to a funeral."
"Don't start," Gabe said, grinning. "Busy day?"
Bob gestured at the mostly empty shop.
"Yeah. Barely keeping up."
Gabe glanced around. Two customers. One already done eating.
"I can see that." He shook his head, chuckling as he picked a spot by the window, soft couch seat and all.
Gabe had been around as long as Bob could remember. They grew up on the same block, went to the same schools, got into the same after-school fights behind the gym, though Gabe usually hid behind Bob.
Where Bob was big, Gabe was the opposite. Average height, lean, with sharp hazel eyes and dark hair always combed like he had somewhere important to be. His clothes were never out of place, like getting dressed was part strategy, part religion.
And now? Still side by side. Still surviving.
Except Bob worked.
And Gabe was... still figuring it out.
"Thought you had an interview today," Bob said, dropping a menu in front of him.
"Ugh, I did." Gabe rubbed the back of his head. "Prepared like hell, and then they canceled! Said something about the meteor. Like the world's ending or whatever…"
He pointed at the TV mounted in the corner.
"Look!"
On the small TV, a reporter stood in front of a hazy sky. Behind her, the glowing meteor was clearly visible now, massive, brighter than the sun.
"In the latest update, expert opinion has split," she said, voice steady but tight.
"While many experts still believe the meteor will break apart and burn up before impact, a growing number warn that fragments could survive reentry. Several theories are spreading online, including the risk of localized damage from falling debris."
She paused, glancing at something off-camera.
"Authorities are urging the public to stay calm and remain indoors until further notice."
"They said earlier it's gonna burn up," Bob muttered, barely glancing at the screen.
"Yeah, that was yesterday's news," Gabe said, still watching. "Now they're not so sure." He sighed again, eyes locked on the small TV.
"Repeating the latest update: while the meteor's core is still expected to break up during entry, experts now believe some fragments could reach the surface. Authorities stress there is no cause for panic—"
The screen flickered. The broadcast cut out for a second, static buzzing at the edges.
Gabe squinted at the screen. "Yeah, no cause for panic. They say that right before it all goes to hell."
Bob leaned in for a better look. "Kinda looks like a flaming meatball."
Gabe gave him a sideways glance. "Seriously?"
Bob shrugged. "What? I'm hungry."
"Speaking of lunch… you joining me, or what?"
Bob glanced toward the kitchen. "Grandpa! Two ramen bowls!"
He plucked the menu out of Gabe's hands.
"Bob, it's barely past ten. What lunch?"
"Early lunch. Late lunch comes later. I can't eat during actual lunch time… I'm working."
Gabe just shook his head and gave up trying to argue.
"Coming up!" Grandpa's voice rang from the back. "And Bob, don't think sitting down gets you out of work!"
"Wouldn't dream of it," Bob muttered, sliding into the couch seat across from Gabe.
They sat quietly for a while, eyes on the small TV. The last customer had already left. Now it was just them in the noodle shop.
Outside, the street was oddly quiet. Not empty, but thinner than usual. An eerie stillness hung in the air.
On the screen, news anchors argued over possible impact scenarios and whether the government was doing enough to prepare.
Gabe leaned closer to the window, squinting at the sky.
"Shouldn't we, like... evacuate or something?"
Bob yawned.
"Where? The noodles are here."
Right on cue, Grandpa came out from the kitchen carrying two steaming bowls of ramen.
Gabe rolled his eyes at Bob.
"I swear, one day your stomach's gonna get us both killed."
Grandpa set the two bowls down with a clink.
"Eat up, boys. Might be your last meal if those other scientists are right."
Gabe gave a half-smile.
"Comforting as always, Grandpa!"
Bob was already grabbing his chopsticks.
"Food's food."
Grandpa chuckled on his way back to the kitchen.
"And don't waste any."
"Got it." Bob was already slurping.
-----
"For those just tuning in, you're watching live coverage on HKM News. I'm Elaine Myre. In just moments, the meteor is expected to enter Earth's atmosphere. You can see it now on your screen, it's getting brighter... and brighter..."
BOOM! A deafening explosion echoed across the sky as the meteor pierced the atmosphere, shaking the earth below with a thunderous roar.
They were halfway through their bowls when the first boom hit…
a deep, chest-thudding blast that rattled the windows so violently, the glass looked ready to shatter.
Distant car alarms wailed.
People on the street froze, turned their heads, and looked up.
"The meteor has just entered the atmosphere!" the anchor's voice echoed from a nearby screen. "As expected, it's breaking apart into smaller fragments. They're burning up fast. If the projections hold, most of it should disintegrate before reaching the ground."
"Wait... what is that? The meteor is breaking apart, but the fragments aren't burning up! I repeat, the pieces are still intact and falling fast."
She pauses, listening to someone off-camera.
"Multiple fragments are spreading out, heading toward different regions. This was not expected. Authorities are issuing emergency alerts!"
She touched her earpiece, eyes narrowing as new information came in.
"I'm getting new information… just in from the newsroom. This is breaking news: One of the fragments is on course to strike the President's Office. The President and their family are being evacuated as we speak."
"To everyone watching… look up. If a fragment is heading your way, do not wait. Don't look around. Run!"
The moment the anchor finished speaking, Gabe sat bolt upright and turned to the window. His eyes widened.
"Uh... was that...?" he muttered, pointing at a glowing fragment streaking toward a building across the street.
Bob leaned over and squinted. "Huh."
BOOM!
The meteor fragment slammed into the top floors of the building across the street.
There was a sharp explosion, glass, smoke, and fire bursting from the upper levels as debris rained down. The rooftop and a few floors beneath it were torn apart, but the rest of the structure held.
A moment later, the shockwave reached them, rattling the noodle shop's windows and knocking over a salt shaker.
"This just in… the meteor continues to fracture as it moves through the atmosphere. Multiple large fragments are now falling toward populated areas."
The anchor paused, glancing off-camera as someone shouted urgently in the background. Her face tightened.
"We're getting early reports of confirmed impacts in several major cities… Sakura City in Cherry Country, Freedom City in Eagle Nation, and the Iron Capital of Bear Country. Emergency services are already responding."
She leaned forward slightly, her voice steady but tense.
The broadcast cut to a live video feed, fires burning in the distance, smoke curling into the sky, people scattering in panic. The meteor wasn't breaking apart safely. It was shedding more fragments with every second.
Large pieces. Small ones.
All of them falling, fast.
The screen flickered. The feed stuttered. The camera jolted as a deep rumble rolled through the broadcast.
"Authorities are urging everyone to seek immediate shelter," the anchor continued. "If you're outside, get indoors immediately. This is not a drill."
"Okay, this is officially bad," Gabe muttered, sliding deeper into the booth like the worn-out cushions might somehow shield him from the apocalypse.
The ground gave a low, rumbling shake beneath them, but even then, Gabe noticed something strange.
He wasn't panicking.
Not like a normal person should.
And really, there was only one reason for that.
Bob.
It had always been that way.
No matter how bad things got.
No matter how hopeless it looked.
As long as Bob was there, it felt like they were already in the safest place on Earth.
Bob was his Safe Zone.
Right as Bob was about to slurp more noodles—
CRASH!
Something burst through the window.
A glowing, pinkish fragment, about the size of a child's pinky, bounced off the table and landed directly in his bowl.
Gabe stared. "Dude."
Bob blinked at it.
The fragment sizzled in the broth, steam rising like someone had dropped a hot coal into soup.
"Dude," Gabe said again, slower this time. "A space rock just fell into your lunch."
Bob poked it with his chopsticks. It hissed loudly. The noodles around it began to crisp and curl. Bob tilted his head.
For a moment, he considered,
Maybe this was the kind of thing you really shouldn't eat.
Then again... food was food.
"Well," he shrugged, "can't waste food."
Before Gabe could say a word, Bob scooped up the fragment with a tangle of noodles…
and popped it into his mouth.
Crunch!
Gabe's jaw dropped. "You're not serious."
Bob chewed thoughtfully. "Tastes like... burnt bacon."
Gabe pointed at the bowl, eyes wide. "Grandpa! Bob just ate a meteor!"
From the kitchen, Grandpa's voice called back without missing a beat:
"Uh-huh... as long as he finishes the broth!"
Gabe blinked. "Wait... What? That's it?!"
Grandpa didn't even bother looking. He'd seen enough of their antics to assume it was just more nonsense and decided to play along.
Bob shrugged, lifted the bowl, and slurped down the rest of the soup.
"See? Full approval."
Gabe dropped his face into his hands. "We are absolutely dead."
The small TV was still playing the news, but neither of them was listening anymore.
Bob kept eating.
Gabe stared out the window.
Outside, chaos spread.
Fire trucks screeched to a halt in front of the shattered building across the street. Flames roared.
People ran back and forth in a panic, shouting, crying, bumping into each other.
Bob glanced out the window, then down at his empty bowl.
He pointed at Gabe's half-finished ramen. "You gonna eat that?"
Gabe blinked. "Man... seriously?"
Bob shrugged. "Waste is waste."
"Bob. Priorities."
"Exactly." Bob grinned.
Gabe groaned and pushed the bowl toward him. "Unbelievable."
It took a while before Grandpa finally stepped out of the kitchen, just as Bob slurped the last of his broth. He was drying his hands on a towel, his face a little pale, and his movements slower than usual.
He rubbed his ear with a deep frown, like something was bugging him.
"You good?" Bob asked, glancing up from his empty bowl.
Grandpa waved it off.
"Old bones," he muttered, still rubbing his ear. "Let's close up for today. I've got a check-up in Hope City, District 2-01. And now there's this weird tingling in my ear. It was scheduled anyway."
"Want me to come with you?" Bob said, stretching his arms.
"Nah. You'll open the shop tomorrow in case I don't make it back in time. Might be busy at the hospital. You know the basics, just don't let them order anything fancy."
Bob gave a small nod.
Gabe glanced up at the sky, then around the street. The chaos from earlier had settled. No more honking. No more shouting. Just distant sirens echoing down the empty roads.
"I'm heading home before this gets any weirder," he said, adjusting his backpack. "Message me if the world ends, yeah?"
Bob waved lazily from his stool. "You sure? I'm only working half a shift today. I can still make it for lunch!"
Gabe let out a dry chuckle and shook his head. "You're unbelievable."
He turned and walked off, the soft jingle of his backpack straps fading as he stepped into the quiet outside.
Bob leaned back, stacked the empty bowls, and glanced down at his own.
He paused.
He remembered the pink fragment.
The taste came back to him, burnt bacon. "Ugh… I can still taste it," he muttered.
Then shrugged.
And went back to cleaning… same as always.