Standing between him and the future was Emox, a place that could grant him the death he longed for or doom him to keep living in this nightmare.
A towering black man stepped onto the stage. "YES, BLACK," Michael muttered, locking eyes with him. It felt like the man was staring back, grinning as if he knew something.
"MONKEYS, PALE CHICKENS, DOG-EATERS, I DON'T CARE WHO YOU ARE. YOU'RE ALL HERE TO ENTER EMOX, AND YOUR FUTURE IS NOW IN MY HANDS."
The man's voice boomed over the crowd. "LET'S PROCEED TO THE FIRST CHALLENGE—CRIMSON NIGHTMARE."
Michael rolled his eyes. "Who the hell is this black monkey yarning on stage? I could be thinking of ways to die, but instead, I'm stuck listening to this old fool. God, I'm tired of this life."
The black man disappeared, leaving behind one final message: "SEVEN IN THE MORNING."
The crowd shivered despite their abilities. Even though they were stronger, they feared the unknown. But not Michael. Me. We. Nah I walked away.
Outside, Michael watched the others laugh and share their thoughts. He stood apart, wondering what they saw in each other. At the end of the day, we're all just lumps of sand.
Everyone's fighting to be the best, to survive—then we fucking die. That's life. We live to entertain God, to be part of some sick cosmic joke, a movie that ends with us six feet under.
Michael was furious. Everyone was too blind to see the loop, the stupidity of it all. No one challenged the unknown because they were afraid. But how can you know the unknown when you refuse to face it?
"As far as I'm concerned, the human race is the dumbest species on Earth. They don't even know their own truth. What a joke."
Michael's phone buzzed, interrupting his thoughts. It was a message from Almada, the girl who wanted to meet him. She postponed to tomorrow night. Michael looked up and smirked.
"I was planning to die today, but I guess I'll live long enough to survive the CRIMSON NIGHTMARE."
He cracked his knuckles.
"Alright, folks, time to play your stupid game called life."