A man, cloaked in a grimy, tattered jacket, stumbles into a desolate alley, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His face, obscured by a distorted mask and round, tinted glasses, betrays the weariness of his condition. His every step seems a battle against the weight of exhaustion, his body shaking as he moves.
The alley is a wasteland of debris—discarded food wrappers, broken bottles, and rotting refuse. The man's gaze falls upon his watch, its once-sleek surface now marred by grime and moisture. As he wipes a few droplets of water from the watch's face, he is suddenly overtaken by a violent cough. Blood splatters across the watch's screen, and a cold, mechanical voice issues a dire warning:
*Warning: Blood pressure is critically low. Seek medical assistance immediately.*
Desperation flares in his eyes as he tears the watch from his wrist and hurls it into the garbage-strewn gutter. The man staggers forward, his legs growing increasingly numb. He glances down at his waist and sees a gaping wound, blood pouring out in torrents. Gritting his teeth, he clasps the wound with both hands, trying to stem the bleeding. His attempts to quicken his pace are futile; his legs buckle beneath him, and he collapses onto the filth-ridden ground.
Time drifts by as he lies there, the pain unbearable. Slowly, he regains a semblance of consciousness, sitting up and removing his mask and glasses. He throws them aside, his gaze fixed on the deepening wound. The blood loss is severe; each breath he takes is labored, and another spasm of coughing brings forth more blood. As he stares at his injury, a resigned thought crosses his mind:
*Maybe this is how I'm going to die.*
He shuts his eyes, overwhelmed by pain and exhaustion. A crushing weight seems to press down on him, as if some unseen force is suffocating him. His attempts to move his limbs are in vain; his arms feel detached from his body, rendered immobile. The entire experience is one of suffocating discomfort and dread.
As the pain begins to fade, he notices an eerie lightness in his body. He senses that his consciousness is being drawn away, sucked into an unknown dimension. Fear grips him as he contemplates his fate:
*Is my soul being transferred? For the sins I've committed, perhaps hell is my destination.*
Suddenly, a blinding light envelops him, pulling him from the abyss of his suffering. When the light recedes, he finds himself seated in a stark, unfamiliar environment. He's dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants, bound to a chair atop a high-rise building. The surrounding atmosphere is drenched in a sinister, blood-red hue. Floating buildings drift aimlessly above him, their outlines hazy and indistinct.
Panic surges within him. He scans his surroundings, but the vast emptiness only heightens his terror. Desperately, he shouts into the void:
*Who is it? If anyone is here, please help me!*
His voice echoes into the silence, met only with an unsettling quiet. Without warning, the scene plunges into complete darkness, leaving him in a pitch-black void. The oppressive silence is punctuated only by the pounding of his own heartbeat. Footsteps approach him slowly, their rhythm deliberate and foreboding. A spotlight suddenly illuminates him, casting a harsh glare.
A sinister laugh reverberates through the dark, causing his heart to race. He recognizes the laugh, though its source eludes him. A figure emerges from the shadows—a man clad in black, his mask and watch eerily familiar. Sweat breaks out on the man's forehead as he stares at the newcomer, his fear palpable.
The mysterious figure steps closer, his presence radiating an unsettling authority. His deep, resonant voice breaks the silence:
"Hey, it's been a long time. How have you been?"
The man's panic escalates. He's unable to respond, his voice trapped by terror. The figure continues, his tone oddly calm:
"It's okay. You don't have to answer. I just came to check on you."
With deliberate slowness, the figure removes his mask. As the face is revealed, the man's eyes widen in shock and disbelief:
"How in the world… How is this possible?"