EPISODE 4 – SCENE 2: INTIMIDATION

A cold blade slides under my throat.

Sharp enough to remind me I'm not in some twisted escape room…

More like a prepackaged funeral.

— Unknown voice: Turn around. Slowly. One wrong move and you'll learn how to breathe through your jugular.

I obey.

Slowly.

Hands raised, nerves pulled tight like high-voltage cables.

Under the dim light of a depressed-looking moon, a figure steps out of the shadows.

Average height, but with the stance of a panther about to pounce.

Thick braids.

Glowing tattoos spiral down her arms, pulsing like heartbeats.

Her eyes?

Cold shards of ice.

Sharp. Clear. Unforgiving.

— Unknown voice: Speak, or I slice you into sashimi.

— William: Seriously… is there like, an aggression quota in this world? Or are you all just born this unstable?

The blade digs in deeper.

— William (thoughts): Bad move. Mental note: sarcasm doesn't work on psychopaths.

A faint beep buzzes in my left ear.

— Iris (metallic whisper): Hi5 scan complete. Subject identified: Ésha. Anomaly cell leader. High threat level. Recommendation: neutralize all humor. Immediately.

— William (muttering): Bit late for that…

She grabs me by the collar, eyes drilling into mine like hooks.

— Ésha: You working for them? Answer.

— William: "Them" is kinda vague. I've met so many people trying to kill me in the last 24 hours I lost count. Wanna narrow it down with a catalog or should I just guess?

The blade rises another inch.

Just enough to slice into my pride.

— William: So are you killing me now, or do you still have questions? 'Cause honestly, I'm out of patience for ominous threats today.

Rustling.

Shadows move through the ruins.

One by one, torches flicker on.

They step out—suspicious stares, makeshift weapons, tense bodies.

There's seven of them. Maybe more.

All anomalies. All ready to pounce.

An older man steps forward—torn clothes, salt-and-pepper beard, a nervous twitch in his lips.

He speaks like a survivor.

— Old man: The Divine Order Knights… they're trying to wipe us out. Call it "mystic cleansing."

— William: Right. Fancy swords, dirty brains. Met them. Didn't like my style either.

Ésha doesn't blink.

— Ésha: This isn't a joke. If you're a spy, we gut you and feed what's left to their hounds.

— William: Cool. If I had a violent death subscription, this world would be giving me lifetime cashback.

Then someone big steps between us.

A beast of a man, scar running from temple to clavicle.

Every muscle on edge.

— Érode (gravelly voice): He's a liability. We don't need suicidal tourists.

— Ésha: He made it here alive. How often do you see that?

— Érode: So, what? Just makes him another anomaly. You wanna start sheltering every suspicious stray we find?

Tense silence.

I just watch.

No popcorn.

Hold the sigh.

— William (thoughts): So, stay here and get death-stared to oblivion… or leave and get actually obliterated.

A blonde woman steps forward.

Short hair. Hacker vibes on steroids.

She pulls out a modified, ancient phone and scans me.

Beep.

The screen lights up. Her face tightens.

— Blonde woman: It's him. The Nexus bearer. The one the Knights are hunting.

— Young man: Wait—Pharmacie, you mean the Lord W?

— Pharmacie: Exactly, Maho.

The group freezes.

That kind of silence that isn't sure if it should cheer you… or slit your throat.

A collective shiver.

Glances shift.

Jaws tighten.

— William: Hold up. I'm not some messiah. I'm not the devil either. I'm just a guy who took the wrong turn in a world that's even more screwed up than he is.

Érode grunts but says nothing.

Ésha turns toward the old man.

— Ésha: What now, Stryker?

He nods slowly.

His gaze lingers on me like he's reading through my bones.

His voice carries the weight of a man who's watched a hundred kids die… and saved one.

— Stryker: We keep him. Under strict watch. Maho, you're on him. If he snaps… straight to the pit.

— William: "Pit" like, dramatic metaphor or actual… you know, biological disposal?

A sly grin appears.

— Maho: Both. But you won't have time to pick.

— William (thoughts): Great. I've officially been adopted by a paranoid gang of outcasts…

And something tells me this night ends in either blood…

or a very messed-up initiation.

And I'm not sure which I'd prefer.