The morning sun cast a pale light on the city's towers.
Birds chirped in a sweet chorus—tweet, tweet, tweet—welcoming a new day.
A faint murmur of morning commuters and the scent of car exhaust filled the air.
***
Beep! Beep! Beep!—I woke to the same alarm, at the same time.
My gaze swept across the same room, my apartment.
Clang! Clang! The familiar sound of stirring a cup. Hmph... The same scent of coffee. Slurp... Gulp.
I put on the same dress shirt.
At the train station, the same billboard greeted me every day. Faces I didn't know flashed by, meaningless and empty.
I eventually arrived at the same place—the office.
My morning routine was frozen in a loop, a pattern with no end.
I was Brisky Corwin, 34 years old. In the mornings, I was a software engineer—an emotionless face behind a monitor. Office life was a dreary line of code, the sound of my keyboard, and the reflection of my tired face in my glasses. For three years since my divorce, every day had been a numb repetition.
...
The only thing I ever looked forward to was six o'clock.
Ding! The clock on my screen lit up—a sign of freedom. I shut off the monitor, pulled off my office jacket, and slipped on a plain black t-shirt that revealed the muscles in my arms. My dull expression hardened, replaced by a sharp, cold glint in my eyes.
The emotionless Brisky the engineer was gone; my other half was awake.
Leaving the air-conditioned, perfume-scented office building, I walked down the dark back alleys. The elegant scents were slowly replaced by the smell of stale cigarettes, cheap alcohol, and humid night air. My destination was a grimy bar hidden behind a rundown shop—this was where my real life began.
***
The Underground Fight
The fighting ring was slick with sweat and the smell of booze. The crowd shoved and roared, their thirst for blood palpable. In the middle of the chaos, two figures faced each other. I was a bit leaner, but my gaze was as sharp as a knife. My opponent was Connor—a tattooed giant with shoulders as wide as a doorway.
WHAM! Connor's punch hit my cheek, and the world spun.
I staggered, the taste of iron filling my mouth.
Before he could follow up, I quickly ducked, kicking his knee.
I heard a muffled crack! that made a few people in the crowd wince.
The giant grunted, responding with a brutal assault. His hand grabbed my throat—THUD!—and my body slammed against the hard floor. I coughed up blood. The crowd roared with delight.
Connor gave no quarter. He mounted my chest and rained down blow after blow.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
Every hit was like a sledgehammer crushing my bones. My face was on fire, and my vision blurred. In the haze of pain, a fleeting image of my ex-wife flashed in my mind—a reminder of my failure, of why I was here.
Connor's grip loosened slightly. With all my remaining strength, I brought my knee up and slammed it into his groin.
A howl of pain echoed through the bar. He staggered back.
My chance. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring the searing pain in my face. I leapt, wrapping my legs around his neck. Crack! The faint sound sent a shiver through the crowd. Connor shrieked in panic and then went down.
I locked my hold, refusing to let go.
His breathing became ragged; his face turned purple, veins bulging in his neck.
His giant hands clawed at me, but found only air.
The roaring crowd fell silent, replaced by the sound of labored breathing and a low hum. In a few seconds, Connor's body went limp.
The referee raised my hand—caked in blood—and declared me the winner.
I didn't celebrate. I stood in the middle of the blood-splattered ring, chest heaving, face a bruised mess.
The pain was real. But that's what made me feel alive.
Afterward, I walked toward the locker room. My footsteps echoed in the hallway.
Creeeak! I opened a door marked "locker." A foul smell of rotting rat carcass hit my nose. F*ck! I cursed. My stomach lurched.
I rushed to the sink. Crank... shhhhhh... The faucet ran, and I washed the dried blood from my face.
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror.
My once-vibrant face was now a canvas of dark bags and bruises.
I covered my nose. Ugh, I mumbled, the smell is getting stronger. I quickly changed clothes and left.
***
BANG! The door slammed shut behind me. "Damn it, do they ever clean this place?"
I kicked the metal door, venting my frustration.
Hmph... I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. Whew… Outside the bar, the night air was fresh, but the iron tang of blood still lingered on my tongue. I sighed, my eyes falling on a 24-hour convenience store.
Ding! The bell chimed as I entered.
I grabbed a few cans of beer from the cooler and a pack of cigarettes from the counter. After paying, I stepped back outside.
A plastic bag rustled in my hand. I walked aimlessly past dimly lit streetlights until the sound of waves reached my ears.
The beach was empty—only a sliver of the moon hung low in the sky.
I sat on the cold sand and cracked open a beer. The first sip cooled my throat, leaving a rough, warm feeling in my chest.
With my other hand, I lit a cigarette. The smoke swirled, carried away by the salty wind. Waves rolled in, crashing against the rocks in a rhythm both soothing and haunting. In the distance, the lights of fishing boats twinkled like fallen stars.
I stared at the dark sea. For a moment, I felt free from my boring world. But the images of the fight, Connor's fading eyes, and the old wounds in my heart followed me—like a thorn I couldn't pull out. I took a deep drag, held the smoke in my lungs, and exhaled toward the stars.
The night felt long. Staring up at the cosmos, I fell into my thoughts and murmured,
"I'm still alive… but I feel like I'm already dead. The days just move without meaning. When did I become this?"
I rubbed my temples, trying to remember. Gulp! I chugged more beer.
"Damn it! Hahhh… I guess this is what they call a mid-life crisis," I mumbled to myself. My eyes were vacant, fixed on the vast expanse of the night sea. Can after can, I drank. Cigarette butts were scattered around me.
Then a strange phenomenon occurred in the distance, in the sky above the sea.
My eyes widened, then narrowed. From afar, two points of light were chasing each other. One of them shot out, heading straight for me.
Slaashhhhh! A sound like a tear. In front of me, reality was ripped vertically.
Zzzzzt... Tshass... The tear slowly widened, forming a circle that opened into an endless, inky blackness. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief, then slapped my own cheek.
"Am I drunk?" I muttered. A chill ran down my spine. "Damn… I'm getting goosebumps." Everything froze—even the spilled beer on the sand was suspended in mid-air.
My heart sank as I stared at the anomaly. The crack pulsed as if alive, emitting a strange sound—half-machine, half-ancient hum. I turned to run, but my legs were rooted to the spot, as if something was pulling them. In a panic, I grabbed at the sand to hold on. My heart hammered in my chest. The pull on my legs grew stronger.
I looked back—only the crack was there. Cold sweat dripped from my forehead.
The pull lifted me, making me float. My hands clawed at the sand, but it was useless. My entire body was being dragged toward the tear. Just as I was about to be swallowed, my eyes caught the place where I had been sitting—the suspended beer splash! down onto the sand, as if time had just started again. Then, the tear closed. Darkness.
***
I was inside the tear. I couldn't tell if my eyes were blind or if there was just an endless, silent darkness. Not even the sound of my own heartbeat could be heard. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. My body floated, locked in place.
Fear consumed me. My dark vision, the lack of sound, the inability to move—I could only weep in surrender.
Then a hoarse voice echoed. It bounced off the nothingness, creating a mystical atmosphere, speaking in an ancient, foreign language.
The voice echoed again, whispering softly… Sorry... Help... And then it was swallowed by the silence.
My eyes widened in shock. I wanted to ask, but my voice wouldn't come out.
Zing! Zing! Zing!
Thousands of symbols appeared, glowing, illuminating the darkness.
Zinggggg. The strange symbols spun around me, forming a vortex with me at its center. Sshhh... My skin peeled off. The pain was unbearable. I couldn't scream; I could only cry and convulse. My flesh was torn away, the pain feeling like a thousand razor blades slicing all at once.
Then my bones were ground down. The thousands of symbols vibrated… drt! drt! drt!… spinning faster, whoosh! whoosh! as if eating my skin and flesh.
The symbols adhered to my body, forming a single glowing sphere. It grew bigger and bigger. I could still breathe and feel it, even though my body was gone. More symbols joined, compressing me into a glowing ball the size of a basketball.
Silence. I no longer had a body; I was just a glowing sphere.
Before I could even think, Swoosh! I was thrown forward at the speed of light. My vision warped.
Thump!.
Brisky Corwin vanished into the void.