A bulky man, well-dressed but with the unmistakable air of someone they called when things needed handling, stood before The Machine. Andrew craned his neck, gaze climbing its impossible height.
Even in daylight, the top was nearly lost to the sky, but at night? At night, it was worse. A perfect void, swallowing the stars, as if the sky itself had been ripped away.
The excavation team had dug all the way around it, revealing what looked like a monolithic cube sunken into the earth—a Manhattan-sized artifact, embedded in a crater like a fallen meteor. A cube with one entrance.
And no one had a damn clue how it got there.
Andrew pulled a candy cane from his coat pocket, sliding the wrapper off, he stuck it in his mouth and crunched down hard.
“Merry f’in Christmas… I guess.”
Andrew checked his watch. Their team had been inside for twelve hours.
***
Ryan hunched into his hoodie, pulling it tighter as cold air cut through the city streets. Rain slicked the cracked pavement, pooling in potholes. The neon glow of cheap liquor store signs flickered above him, buzzing in the damp night air.
A figure shifted in a nearby alley, barely more than a shadow. Someone groaned—low, guttural, lost in whatever they’d put in their veins.
Ryan ignored them.
“Piece of shit road, in a piece of shit town,” he thought, stepping off the curb to dodge another pothole, heading toward the struggling automatic doors of a rundown convenience store.
The doors whined, failing to open all the way. Ryan kicked the base, and they shuddered apart with a final metallic jolt.
Behind the counter, a bored, middle-aged clerk barely looked up from his handheld. He scowled.
“Careful on my doors.”
Ryan ignored him too.
A group of teenagers huddled near the fridges, talking over each other, laughing. He steered clear, grabbing a couple of microwave meals and a cheap energy drink, and heading to self-checkout.
One of the kids saw his face.
A moment of hesitation—then the kid’s eyes went wide.
“Yooooo.”
Ryan stiffened, head down, but it was too late.
“Dude, dude it’s him!”
“No way—seriously?”
“Swear to God. That’s Gillz!”
The air in the store shifted. Ryan’s hands tightened around the plastic bag.
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One of them stepped closer, grinning, like they won the lottery.
“Hey bro, you used to be Gillz didn’t you?”
Ryan pretended not to hear, fumbling with the crumpled bills in his pocket, forcing them into the register.
But they weren’t done.
“Holy shit, dude, it’s you.”
Another jumped in, laughing.
“Yoooo… you choked so bad. Like, millions of people were watching, and you just choked man.”
More laughter.
Ryan’s fingers felt like sausages as he forced the last of the change into the machine.
The first kid lifted his handheld.
“Hey guys, we’re here chilling with the biggest choker in esports history. Making sure he knows he’s the reason his team lost.”
The clerk said nothing. He didn’t care.
Ryan grabbed his bag, turned toward the exit.
“Dude what are you doing down here, I guess your ass is broke now, huh?”
Another laugh.
“So glad they kicked you off the team.”
Ryan headed through the doors. This time, they squealed open without resistance. Ryan was thankful.
The kids followed for a step or two but lost interest when they realized it meant getting wet.
The cold rain hit his face as he walked, puddles splashing beneath worn-out sneakers.
They were right.
Fourth place meant nothing.
It didn’t matter that he had worked his way up from nothing, that he had helped lead his Battle Royale team to one of the biggest, and most lucrative tournaments in the world.
Fourth place didn’t pay.
And he hadn’t been kicked off the team—he had left. Not that it made a difference. It meant he wouldn’t be able to compete with them next year, but he had bigger problems right now.
His mother was still getting worse.
His job grinding vanity accounts for extra cash barely paid for groceries, and didn’t cover the medical bills.
The neon glow reflected in the puddles at his feet. He yanked his hood lower, breathing out mist. The streetlight buzzed overhead, and for a second, he let his eyes close—just to shut the world out.
Ryan exhaled sharply, and opened his eyes. This is not the time to choke.
***
Saint Luke’s Psychiatric Ward – 1:32 A.M.
Andrew hated hospitals. The harsh lights, and the smell… his father had been in and out of hospital as a kid. He was all too familiar with it.
“I’m with the Special Division”
He flashed his S.D. credentials at the overworked night nurse, who barely glanced at them before buzzing him through.
“End of the hall,” she said in that rhymey voice of someone who gives a total of zero shits. I wonder if they train for that Andrew thought.
Andrew’s shoes tapped and echoed against the slick hard floor as he strolled past doors with observation windows. Oh boy, this was where they kept the real pieces of work.
Muffled screams from somewhere deeper in the ward.
Then he reached it.
Room 417.
The only survivor of the first expedition into The Machine.
Andrew took a slow breath, then opened the door.
The man sitting on the bed was barely recognizable.
Pale. Gaunt. Scratches along his arms, raw and fresh, as if he’d been trying to claw something out from under his skin? Or maybe something had been clawing at him.
His eyes darted up at Andrew’s entrance—wide, hollow, like he had seen something he wasn’t supposed to.
Andrew took a step in, keeping his tone measured.
“Paul, it’s Andrew. I need to ask you about what happened inside The Machine.”
The man laughed. Not the kind of laugh that belonged in reality—a jagged, empty sound.
Andrew pulled up a chair and sat, leaning forward, voice calm.
“You were in there for nine-teen hours. You made it out. The others didn’t. What happened?”
The man’s eye twitched.
“Did I?” he whispered.
A pause.
Andrew’s tried again.
“What’s inside?”
“We are? Is this another game?!” he rasped.
The survivor’s breathing slowed. His fingers trembled as they reached for something under his pillow.
Then, with unsteady hands, he pulled it out.
Something small.
Something impossible.
He held it up between them. A moment of clarity washed over him and he looked at Andrew.
“I got this.”
Andrew’s breath caught.
His eyes went wide.
And for the first time in his quite extensive and colorful career, Andrew had no words.
