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The man with the razor fingers watches you from afar as you helplessly toil through his maze like a rat. He relishes in your fear and takes great pleasure in your discomfort. His free, non-gloved hand sits idly on his groin, tapping his flaccid penis sporadically as if warming himself up for some great sexual performance.
Above you, as far as your vision reaches, you see metal piping and iron scaffolding, and something dark and fleshy and not rigid like the piping. Something that's hurtling towards you fast.
Your pupils dilate when you can make out the blob; it's your sister, Shannon.
Dressed in a soft, white gown, Shannon appears to be calmly sleeping as she races to the ground below.
"She's been letting you down for years. Why not repay the favor?" The man taunts.
Not understanding the rules to this new game, you feel as though there is only one option, and that's to catch your sister from hitting the floor like a watermelon. But something in the man's taunt, something about his control over the surrounding events, gives you pause.
>Save your sister (roll 3d10)
>Confront the Burned Man (roll 1d100)
