—Whoosh!
The moment I stepped out of McLaren's, an aggressive gust of wind slammed into my face, whipping through my hair from up the street. Small debris—rocks, stones, grains of sand—scattered through the air, striking like tiny projectiles that threatened to blind me.
I quickly shielded my hands across my face and tucked my head between my shoulders. A familiar scent hit my nose.
'Shit. It's going to rain…'
A storm was coming—and judging by the force of the wind, it was moving fast. I didn't stand still for long. I bolted down the street to the left, my arms still raised against my face as the cold wind tore through my hair like it had a personal grudge.
—Tak tak tak tak tak.
The urgent tapping of my feet echoed against the curb, muffled by the roar of the wind. I reached into my pocket with one hand, pulled out my phone, and peeked out from under my elbow without slowing down.
It was late into the night. With the storm bearing down, most people were already rushing home or seeking shelter. The streets lay deserted, empty and cold.
For a moment, I considered turning back to McLaren's—spending the night there or waiting out the worst of the rain. I knew Carl wouldn't have minded.
I tapped the screen of my phone and saw the time. A few minutes past midnight. Fortunately, it was a big city—I already knew the last train would leave in about six minutes.
Unfortunately, I'd moved nearly halfway across town in the opposite direction from this neighborhood since getting my new apartment last month…
'Dammit. I can still make it to the station. If I take a left and cut through the alley by 22nd, West Street, I'll get there in less than five minutes!'
I clenched my teeth, squinted against the wind, and took the alley left. Faster now. Sprinting.
It was dark, windy, and cold—probably a terrible idea to run like this. But the cold, needle-like droplets of rain stung my skin, reminding me I had no choice. I had to move fast.
With a splash, I hit a puddle and kept running. The alleyway loomed around me, shadows threatening to swallow me whole—but I knew these parts like the back of my—
—Bang!
A strange noise erupted from somewhere nearby, a deafening moan carried in the wind.
My breath caught in my throat. Something hot and thick surged up my chest, filling my lungs, and my eyes widened in shock.
"Wh… what…?"
My body lurched forward as a searing pain tore through the left side of my chest. I crashed into the filthy alley ground like a toddler taking his first steps—face-first into the rough, unforgiving surface.
But the worst part? I couldn't move. I couldn't get up. And finally… I could no longer hold it back.
Hot blood burst from my mouth like a broken faucet. My phone slipped from my fingers, its screen still glowing faintly, barely cutting through the darkness.
"H… huh?" I tried to speak. My voice failed me. Each attempt made me gag as my chest burned, pain so sharp I felt like I might die.
A sickening warmth spread beneath me, a grotesque contrast to the cold rain hammering down my back.
Trembling fingers barely reached for my phone lying nearby, still flickering, while blood kept flowing from my mouth.
Then… footsteps.
—Tak tak.
Cold. Haunting. Heavy. Each step pressed down through the roar of rain, oppressive and deliberate.
"Aye-aye-aye. This isn't what was supposed to happen," a husky male voice said, laced with lament.
'What…'
From the shadows, a figure slowly emerged, barely visible in the darkness, just a few feet from my sprawled body. Tall, dark, and wearing a drenched, heavy trench coat, he looked imposing. His hands gripped a gun, a sleek revolver made of cold metal, glinting faintly in the dim light.
Immediately, my first instinct was to get up and back away—but my body wouldn't obey. I could only watch helplessly, dread pooling in my chest, as the dangerous-looking man continued muttering incomprehensibly above me.
A stabbing pain shot through my chest as my heart thundered—I could almost hear it pounding in my skull.
The man sighed, his breath raspy, almost like a growl. He stepped closer, taking two deliberate steps, then reached for the black hat tilted over his head.
Lowering himself, he squatted over me, removing the hat to reveal a bald head, scarred and marked.
He carefully rested the nozzle of the gun against the ground, terrifyingly close to my face. A bolt of lightning flashed, and for a brief moment, I caught my pale, horrified reflection in the dim, wet surface beneath me.
"This is embarrassing…" the raspy voice said, snapping my attention back to him.
I couldn't make out the features of his face—my vision was already fading—but I could hear him clearly. Rough, exasperated words cut through the rain, making my stomach churn. Thoughts collided in my head as consciousness began to slip.
"Oops, sorry," the man said. "I thought you were someone else. My finger slipped a bit."
And those were the last lingering words I heard before my mind went blank.
'You fuc…'
***
[—DING! The next Station is [Puzzles]. The doors will open on the left. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform edge. Thank you~] A mechanical feminine voice announced from the speakers along the train, reverberating through the carriages.
A young man with black hair and dark half-lidded eyes sitting idly by himself shifted softly at the sound of the announcement, marking his time to alight soon. He was wearing a simple grey hoodie with black pants and a backpack sitted next to him on his left.
The train came to a stop in a few minutes, screeching quietly a metallic hum, and just before the boy, a much younger version of Aiden in a familiar memory he remembered, stepped off to the platform, his hand shuffled into his pants pocket, pulling out a familiar small gadget with wires attached.
It was an old Mp3 player, one of the earlier versions now even considered an antique. But the boy didn't mind. In fact he found a small sense of comfort and solace in antiques and outdated gadgets or objects like this one. The world nowadays was too fast and changing, this relic remained the same.
And this interesting hobby of his wasn't just limited to only physical gadgets or items.
The boy raised the wired buds to his ears and plugged them in, slugging his backpack loosely over one shoulder. His finger passively caressed away at the obvious and firm round Play button as he exhaled a deep sigh, almost as if cleansing his mind for what was to come in while renewing his vigour to face the world outside.
With a small force from his thumb, the click of the play button echoed like a starter pistol as he pushed it.
A familiar, nostalgic 80's Glam Rock blasted through his ear drums with the shredding of big guitars, punchy drums, and high energy vocals that screamed of invigorating rebellious defiance as he stepped unto the platform like walking in slow motion through an explosion.
[_ Shot through the heart, and you're to blame. Darling, you give love a bad name...]
The world burst open to Aiden, reckless and finally alive .
The classic 1980's hit "You Give Love a Bad Name" by Bon Jovi played at psyched volumes through the earpiece, drowning all of the boy's world around him into a glamour of white noise and dopamine explosions that made him feel like he could do anything.
And indeed, Aidan did feel that way. He could still vividly remember that day like it was yesterday.
It was the moment just before Aiden received news of his father's death after all...
Just as the streams of hard rock playing from his mp3 penetrated deep into young Aiden's bone marrows, he suddenly stopped, feeling his cellphone vibrating in his left pocket.
He glanced down at it with a mix of confusion and annoyance, pausing the electrifying feeling from his mp3 player and pulled out his cell to receive the call.
Swapping out one ear piece for his phone, Aidan spoke into the speaker cautiously.
"Hello?"
As he did, his gaze rose slowly and met with the figure of a random stranger standing far across on the other side of the platform, leaning lazily against a wall in the corner right next to a red payphone hung up on it.
It was a strange and suspiciously tall man, a man in a worn drenched black and dreary coat draping over him down from shoulders to feet and a tilting black hat that hid his eyes.
Standing next to the small shelf, he held the metal payphone itself to his ear, and despite his expression was vaguely hidden under his hat, Aiden could still make out a twisting and creepy smile from underneath directed straight at him.
And as the strangers lips moved slowly, a raspy voice came from Aiden's phone that made him shudder like a jolt from a nightmare.
"Tick...tok... Tick tok..." the unsettling voice croaked, reminiscencent of the cooing of a broken clock.
It was slow, eerie and unsettling. Coupled with the sight of the suspicious man in black smiling creepily at him, it was down right horrifying and deeply disturbing.
At this point Aiden was frozen still in place, his legs seemingly bolted to the ground while the rest of the crowd around him continued to flow and walk by, oblivious to whatever mid-afternoon fever dream he was experiencing.
Yet their oblivious presence and how the rest of the world seemed to move on like natural provided him a bit of solace. Aiden found a space to breathe and frowned, unamused, regaining his wit without looking away from the strange man in a coat.
"Who is this? Is this a prank?"
They were standing no more than twenty feets apart from each other, but Aiden spoke quietly into the phone regardless as a passer-by walked past right in front of him.
Despite the stern calm of his voice, Aiden's heart thumped quietly with an agitation he couldn't quite explain. What kind of prank was this to make him feel this way?
Yet the unsettling voice continued without offering a proper answer or explanation. The voice dripped almost like hissing, gaseous ice seeping from a tank.
It continued to tick away like a a disquieting clock, creepy amusement lacing his voice.
"Tick...tok...Tick tok..."
Then it chortled darkly from the speakers, a voice like gravel grinded against stones.
"It's almost time, Aidan..."
Aiden remained rooted in place, continuing to keep his eyes on the same stranger with an unamused and disconcerted expression.
"'Aidan'? Who's that? And...time for what?" Without truly understanding why, Aiden found himself regretting uttering those words after he did.
He knew his best action would have been to cut the call as soon as he realised something was wrong, or even pretend to not have noticed the strange man at all. As a matter of fact, usually that's exactly what he would have done on any other day.
Aiden was pragmatic and often considered witty and quick on his feet by others — sometimes perhaps too sharp for his own good — to allow himself be caught in a thoughtless prank like this, or even drawn into it for this long.
Yet this time around, he couldn't explain why he still held the phone up and even traded questions with a useless prank caller that offered no useful answers.
The man in black finally stood up straight without his shoulder pressed against the wall. He held up the metal payphone to his ear with one hand, while his other found it's way into one the pockets of his coat. His head was still partially declined, causing his hat to tilt over his face as he just stood there, like a tall imposing figure of dread in pure black.
Finally the man raised his head and revealed a haunting smiling expression just as Aiden had suspected, but his face was anything but friendly with a gruesome scar running along one eye from his head.
—Click!
Aiden heard a strangely familiar clicking sound of a revolver and the vague almost reminiscencent, sound of rain despite the nature of the weather being dry and sunny outside.
He could almost faintly smell a storm — or remembered the smell of one.
Before any of his sense could register, a rough, eldritch voice thundered from his cellphone in response.
"TO WAKE UP!!"
The next thing Aiden knew, there was a familiar gun held by the smiling man from across, the sleek, cold nozzle raised directly at head like a point.
Aiden's eyes widened—!!
—Bang
And the world drew a black.