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Blake Johnston's pale pretty-boy face lit up for one split second as the flash from a camera went off, recording for posterity, the young man reclining on the toilet, naked as a jay bird.

He had a shocking profusion of black hair with dark purple streaks dancing along the edges which he usually wore in a ponytail down the middle of his back. It was now splayed out, unfettered on top of the white commode tank as his head lolled back on the lid.

His body stretched out in a graceful length of limbs too pretty to be considered ungainly.

The two tubes that took away his life blood in dual crimson gushes had eventually trickled down to tranquil drops which emptied into the small black drain hole of the bright white bathtub.

Everything looked neat and tidy. There was no unnecessary mess other than the inevitable stain of crimson on the gleaming tiles of the tub.

There was no note of suicide. No evidence of any struggle. To save himself, all Blake Johnston needed to do was pull the tubes from his arms. He did nothing, which was what he was going to continue to do for eternity.

"Alright. Get him out of here boys. Looks like the poor kid had one too many and couldn't handle life any more." A deep rumbling voice belonging to a stout middle-age man called out from the hallway.

The paramedics had come and gone, and the crime lab had done their thing. The medical examiner, being of an old and grumpy nature, had taken one look at the suicide and shrugged, giving the okay for the body to be moved.

In the darkened corner of the living room, the soul that was Blake Johnston observed all this commotion with tortured eyes.

There was no question that he was dead.

He had seen his body from above, first as a lifeless corpse sitting on the lid of the toilet and then as a bagged lump being wheeled out of the apartment that he shared with Lennie.

He thought about following his body out to see what would happen to it, but he felt strangely detached from it. It was no longer a part of what he had become.

What had he become? Not even Blake could answer that question.

He didn't want to stay inside that apartment any longer, so he drifted through the walls and emerged outside where the afternoon sun was still shining brightly down at the world below.

There was a light gust of wind which blew up from the streets below causing a spiraling effect going higher and higher.

The world was receding, rushing by in a great whoosh. The sun was warm, causing a pervasive feeling of languid drowsiness. He wanted to go upwards, towards that warmth and that light.

With his face turned towards that bright beckoning disc, Blake Johnston began to rise.

THWAP!!!

He was pushed back down.

Blake looked up, frowning. He tried again.

THWAP!!!

This time, Blake reached up with his hands as he again tried to rise. It did not take long before he hit that invisible border.

His palms had bumped up against a glass ceiling!

He flew laterally for awhile, trying to find a way past the glass ceiling, but it spread across the sky, not allowing him to rise past a certain point.

He dropped back down to the ground and returned to the apartment he shared with Lennie. There was no one there. Lennie had left the apartment with the contents of his room.

He wandered into his room, looking at all his personal effects scattered about the room. The cops had gone through everything, looking for possible motive to his death. Finding nothing, they had chalked it up to suicide and closed the case.

He sighed and hovered over to his beloved lime green bass guitar. It stood alone on its stand, lonely and unloved. It was his only companion throughout his adolescent years and then through college. He missed it so much.

Blake reached out to touch it but his fingers passed through its wooden body.

Of course.

He was now a wraith, no longer a part of the world of the living. He could never touch his guitar again.

Being around the things that he had once considered his precious possessions were a serious downer. There was no point in staying here any longer.

He was about to leave when a very familiar voice called out again. This time, the voice was no longer inside his head because he no longer had a head.

"Hey, kid."

It was the voice of the woman with the sweet magnolia scented perfume.

He turned his senses to the darkened corner where the voice was coming from. He could now see her.

She was a brunette with a beehive hair-do. Her face was in shadows, but he could tell she was a great beauty once. She wore a one piece floral print dress that hit her thighs, which was partially covered with white thigh-high boots.

"I been waiting for you to come back once you realized you couldn't go anywhere."

He backed away from her.

"Who are you?"

"Name's Maysie Woods. I was with the asshole who killed you."

"Who is he and what did I do to him that was so bad that he would want to kill me?"

Maysie Woods shook her head. "It's not personal, kid. His name is Marvin Locke and he's just following orders from the Overlord."

"I don't understand what an Overlord is."

"Look. I don't have much time. Just shut up and listen and maybe you can find a way to escape all this."

She took a step out into the light and Blake Johnston had to choke back his gasp. One-fourth of her face had been blown off from a gunshot blast.

"Like I said, if you do manage to find a way to escape, take me with you."

Blake nodded his head, not trusting his voice at the moment.

She reached up and pulled something out of the air. Turning to him, she threw it at him, hitting him straight in the face.

BAAM!!!

From within his mind, he could feel something take root. It buzzed, causing his inner mind's ear to itch like mad.

The sensation, if it could be called a sensation since he had no body left, only lasted for a few short seconds.

Then he heard a voice speaking inside his head.

«Download starting…»

"What the fuck did you just do to me?"

"Relax," Maysie chuckled. "If you don't want it, just delete the boot-up file and it will disappear."

"However!" She raised a hand in caution. "You only have this once chance to accept. If you turn it down…" she took a deep breath.

"What happens if I turn it down?"

"You become like me. I turned it down a long time ago and now I can never get that chance offered again. All I can do is try to snag somebody like you and hope you don't turn down the chance to accept the download."

"What does this download do?"

Maysie smiled. It was a terrible smile because only half her face could smile. The other half was forever stuck in a macabre twist of death.

"It allows you to join the Demon System."

"Demon System?" Blake breathed. The name alone frightened him.

"Yes. Once you join, you are at least given a chance to fight your way out of this hell you're trapped in."

"But this is Earth. Are you saying Earth is hell?"

She laughed and shook her head. "No, Blake. Earth is paradise, but only for the living. It's hell if you're no longer living and cannot leave. If you're stuck on Earth with no physical body to do anything, you're effectively trapped."

"What do I have to do?"

"Escape. It's your only salvation."

"So you're telling me that the only way to escape is to accept this download?"

"Yes."

Suddenly, she looked up.

Her face reflected fear and loathing as she heard something that only she could hear.

She turned back to him. "I'm out of time. I have to go. If you need me, just call my name and I will respond if I am able to. Good luck kid."

She turned her back and walked away. Before she hit the wall of the apartment, she had disappeared.

Blake Johnston was once again alone inside the empty apartment.

A chime sounded within his mind. The voice spoke again.

«Download complete. Would you like to install (Yes/no)?»