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The cold wind hit my face, with raindrops sneaking inside the car from the barely rolled-down window. It was a chill that stung, but there was something about it that grounded me. I always liked the smell of Earth soaked in rain—rich, fresh, alive. That smell was, without a doubt, the greatest smell I'd ever known.
It was my ritual to drive when the weather turned. The pattering of rain on the windshield was calming, almost meditative. There was something about the world slowing down, the fog creeping in, everything covered in that soft gray haze. It made me feel like the world was just mine, just for a little while. Like I could escape everything.
I rolled down the window a bit more, letting the rain hit my hand as I let it hang out. I smiled to myself, savoring the moment. It was peaceful. The kind of peaceful you rarely get these days.
But then, as quickly as the serenity settled, it shattered.
The flash of headlights in the fog caught me off guard, cutting through the mist like a pair of wild, desperate eyes. Before I could react, metal screamed against metal. The car slammed into mine, and my world flipped—literally. I felt the car tumbling, gravity failing, the world losing its balance.
A sharp, burning pain ripped through my chest, and I gasped, but the air never made it into my lungs. I could feel it—the jagged piece of glass had pierced through. It lodged somewhere deep, and I tried to focus, to stay conscious, but everything was spinning too fast. The car rolled again, and the shard somehow pulled free with a sickening wet sound. That should have been a relief, right?
But I knew better. Blood loss... it was only a matter of time now.
The noise, the pain, the cold—everything started fading, like I was falling underwater. I wasn't scared, though. I thought I would be, but it felt more like surrender, like letting go of something too heavy to carry any longer. Darkness wrapped around me, and the world fell away.
I died.
Or at least, I thought I did.
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was the light. Soft, diffused, like it was early morning. I blinked, squinting as the ceiling came into focus. The walls were unfamiliar, pale gray, nothing like the hospital room I expected. No monitors beeping, no antiseptic smell. Just... quiet.
I sat up, wincing at the soreness in my chest. My hand instinctively reached for where the shard had impaled me, but there was nothing. No blood, no wound. Just smooth skin. My heart pounded faster as my eyes darted around the room, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings.
An apartment. A small, modest one. But... how? Where was I?
I pushed myself off the bed, my legs shaky beneath me, and stumbled toward the door. I opened it cautiously, half-expecting someone to be on the other side. But the apartment was empty. The living room was sparse, with an old couch and a TV, a few scattered books on a coffee table. Everything was normal, like I had just walked into someone else's life.
I found my phone lying on the kitchen counter. I grabbed it, desperate for some clue. Some explanation.
The screen lit up with a single notification. An email.
From Jeremiah Arkham.
Wait. What?
I hesitated, my mind racing. Jeremiah Arkham? The name...it was a fictional name. I tapped on the email, my hands shaking slightly.
"Welcome to Arkham Asylum. Your schedule for your first day is attached. Please arrive by 9 AM for orientation."
Orientation... Arkham... Asylum?
Memories hit me like a freight train. The stories, the comics, the movies. DC. Gotham. Arkham Asylum.
No. No, this couldn't be real. I couldn't have... transmigrated here, could I?
But the sinking feeling in my gut told me otherwise. This wasn't some joke, some dream. This was real. And I had just woken up in one of the most dangerous places in the DC universe.
What the hell do I do now?