Quoted By:
— “Just calling to congratulate you once more on the title! In my mind, you’re already the greatest of all time.”
— “Wow, that… w-well, I already knew that! It’s a fact. But coming from you, those words mean a lot to me! Thank you, master!”
— “Don’t thank me. I’m killing you.”
— “What?”
— “You heard me. I’m killing you. I never liked the idea of being dethroned in life by someone so mediocre. Enjoy the last loss of your life, because your train is going to CRASH in three… two…”
**ABRUPT IMPACT**
The walkway collapses and the train explodes as it slams nose-first into a residential tower at extreme speed.
Amid the explosions, your shredded, burned body is launched far away, falling into a tight crack in the asphalt.
The pain keeps you from thinking about anything — your broken legs, your crushed arms, the organs slipping out, your skull split open like a coconut. You feel you’re going to die any second. Suddenly, you hear whispers. A group of Mandarin speakers is talking around you. You feel a tingling, pleasurable bite on your chest that spreads through your entire body. You black out.
…
You wake up wet, filthy, and disoriented in a dark, old, cracked sewage canal that looks nothing like the futuristic surface above. There are no wounds on your body, which is strange, because you vividly remember being torn to pieces. Maybe it’s just hallucinations from brain trauma. Your heart boils with hatred over what Tom Brady tried — and wants — to do to you. However, all your friends were on the train during the crash. You can’t just leave without going back to save whoever you can. There’s a hole in the ceiling pouring light down, but it’s too high to reach. And strangely enough, you can still hear whispering and quick footsteps, extremely distant, behind rusty pipes dripping constantly. You also hear a machine’s hum several corridors ahead — someone is definitely working.
>look through the beam of light above
>walk toward the whispers
>walk toward the machines
>(write in)
(2/2)
