Streamopolis

“ Excuse me, young man. Are you all right?” an old man asked.

Nokia’s eyes fluttered open. A blinding white light seared his vision so harshly that it blurred everything around him. Slowly, the shape of an old man came into focus. He was leaning on a cane, extending a hand with a gentle smile.

“Where the hell am I…?” Nokia muttered, squinting at his surroundings.

He was standing in a train station. But it wasn’t New York. The architecture was sleek, futuristic, every wall and floor glowing white. Trains hovered soundlessly above the ground, gliding past like ghosts. Even the people around him—clad in spotless white clothing—moved with a grace and rhythm completely foreign to his world.

Grabbing the man’s hand, Nokia stood shakily. “Thanks, old man.”

As he straightened out his vision Nokia began to notice a strange display on the edge of his eye. At first what seemed to be hazy text lines floating around like smoke rings organized itself into a window full of usernames with a chain of responses.

“What the heck… is that… a chat?” Nokia whispered.

The messages blurred at first, then sharpened.

[Chat]
xXShadowStepXx : L Nokia 💀 got folded by a train LOL
TrainWreck42 : He really got hit??! No way!
AuraHunter88 : Not just hit… bro fell in sewage THEN got hit 🚽

[...]

Nokia blinked. “Did I… really get hit by that train?”

“Oh yes,” the old man nodded. “We all saw it. Quite horrific, really. You fell in sewage first, so you don’t smell very pleasant right now either.”

Nokia gagged, catching a whiff of himself. His clothes weren’t dirty anymore—but the stench clung to him, burning his nose.

“Eugh…” he groaned.

Looking around again, his confusion deepened.

 “Where am I? This doesn’t look anything like New York.”

“New York?” the old man scoffed. “How hard did that train hit you? This is Streamopolis the city of influencers.”

“Streamopolis?” Nokia repeated.

“You’re an influencer, so you should know,” 

“I’m an influencer?!”

“Looks like you’ve lost a lot of memory… but yes. And you’re no ordinary one either.” he chuckled—“you just happen to be the worst influencer the world has ever seen.”

“The worst?”

[Chat]

BoomerWatch2000 : Worst streamer of all time confirmed 😭
AuraHunter88 : I only watch him to feel better about my life ngl
StreamerStan77 : Dude’s a walking L Nokia 💀

[...]

Then, another message blinked in the corner of his eye:

[System Message]
[-1,000,000 Aura → Hit by train while covered in sewage💀]

Nokia’s grabbed his head trying to make sense of the situation. “What the hell…? I’m getting system messages? And there’s a chat?!”

He heard the quiet hum of a set of fans hovering above him. As he looked up to observe what it was, a drone floating just above him hovered with a camera lens pointed directly at his face.

“Is that… my cameraman?” he muttered, scratching his head. "Does that mean people are watching me live?"

Before he could think further, the atmosphere shifted as he heard a voice cry out in the distance.

“NOOOKIIII!”

Shivers shot up Nokia’s spine as the high-pitched voice echoed across the station. He spun left and right, trying to track it.

“Oh No! They’re here!” the old man gagged, fumbling to grab his things in a panicked rush.

“Who’s here?!” Nokia demanded, tilting his head.

“The FASHION POLICE!” the man cried, sprinting away.

“The WHO?”

A strange hum rattled through the station as a column of cloaked figures strutted down the platform. Their robes were spotless but absurdly gaudy, dripping with sequins and glitter. Each one exaggerated their movements like they were auditioning for a circus. One had bright feathers exploding from his hood. Another twirled a baton like she was leading a parade. A third waddled with his arms folded like a sumo wrestler. A fourth clapped his hands dramatically on every step, applauding himself with every stomp while the fifth trailed behind quietly twiddling her fingers.

The crowd split in bewilderment—unsure if this was an arrest, a runway show, or a fever dream.

At the center, a man in a blinding pink hood stepped forward, strutting like a peacock. On his chest gleamed a badge stamped with a dress insignia and the words:

FASHION POLICE

“Nokiiii! Aren’t you a cutie!”

As he spoke Nokia turned to his position spotting the cloaked figures that had gathered to retain him. His subordinates halted, their hoods concealing all but the faint glint of eyes.

"Just who the hell are you?" Nokia screeched.

"Who are we? Well, I’m Lorin," the man in the front said, stepping forward as a spotlight beamed down on him.

"Yeh! And I’m Lauren!" the woman beside him said twirling her baton dramatically, scattering glitter through the air.

"And I’m Lorn!" a man with a grizzled chest flexed, a gust of wind tearing open his shirt buttons.

"Lorraine here!" a girl with a piercing in her nose winked as sparks of electricity crackled behind her.

"And of course, I’m Larrand!" a man in a top hat tipped it forward, rose petals swirling around his feet.

"And we are—!" Lorin shouted, striking a finger to the sky.

"The Fashion Police!" the group cried in unison. 

A dramatic wind roared, floodlights burst to life, and the background shifted to fiery colors as they struck various poses in perfect sync.

Completely unsure if they were an actual police force or just a group  lunatics, Nokia scratched the back of his head.

"Ok… and what does that have to do with me?"

“You sir are Under arrest!” Lorin ordered

“FOR WHAT?” Nokia yelled in shock.

“FOR BEING SUCH A CUTIE! COME WITH US IMMEDIATLY!”

Nokia took a step back incredibly cringed out of his mind.

“I’m not going anywhere with you weirdos! And why are you batting your eyelashes at me like that!”

“Look Noki baby this is an order from higher up! Don’t worry! Me and my subordinates will make sure you are well taken care of” Lorin said rubbing his hands

His followers nodded eagerly, one clapping, another twirling their baton.

“We like you, and we want you,” Lorin purred. “Now… we can do this the easy way…”

He paused, smile sharp as glass.

"Or the hard way!"

The leader’s smile dropped into something sharper as he reached into his robe.
From the folds, he drew a long black whip—its leather gleaming, its tip lined with cruel metal studs.

SNAP!

It lashed across the station's tiles, leaving a scorched mark. The crowd gasped and stumbled back as the fashion Police came forward.

“Heheee~,” Lorin giggled, eyes twinkling like a schoolgirl’s… but the sound was drowned beneath the ominous hum of the whip vibrating in his grip.

Nokia's face went cold with dissapointment.

“Ofcoarse the place I isekai has clowns like this And I'm already down 1,000,000 aura… and now that I think about it" Nokia said scrattching hi schin

"How the heck do these guys have more Aura than me?!” Nokia cried as the fashion police closed in on him.