I don’t know what’s happening. No, scratch that—I don’t know if I’m even alive right now. My chest hurts like hell, and every breath feels like a damn knife twisting in my lungs. Shit, I’m bleeding. I think. Everything’s a blur—red, black, red, and then nothing but pain.
Fuck. Fuck! I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t… Shit, is this it? Is this how I go out? Some stupid accident, some drunk driver swerving at the last second. Was I even paying attention? No, I wasn’t. Too busy thinking about how I’d survive another day in that godforsaken house, with Emma breathing down my neck, reminding me how much of a waste of space I am. But this...this is different. I’m different. There’s a voice. No, not a voice—a whisper. It’s like a thought, but not mine. Soft, insistent. "Initiating Rolin system… Connecting… Establishing parameters…" The hell? Am I losing my mind now too? Figures, my body’s failing, might as well let my brain follow. I blink, or at least I think I do. My vision’s all fucked up, spinning like I’m on some cheap-ass merry-go-round. But then, something clicks. Like an old, dusty gear in a broken machine suddenly grinding to life. *System activated. Welcome, User.* Who the hell…? What…? I want to speak, but my mouth’s full of blood, or maybe it’s just the taste of my life slipping away. There’s a warmth spreading through me, though. Warmth, but not comforting—more like the heat before a storm, electric and dangerous. *First mission assigned. Objective: Survive.* Fuck, I’m trying! But I don’t even know what this is. Is this a dream? Did I finally lose it? But then again, why does it feel so real? So goddamn real that I can taste the coppery blood in my mouth, feel the wet pavement under my broken body. "Do you accept the mission?" The voice, the AI, the system, whatever it is, doesn’t seem to care that I’m bleeding out in the middle of a dark alley. Typical. Even my delusions are indifferent bastards. But…if there’s a chance, even the slightest, I might live…what choice do I have? "I… I accept," I stutter, barely choking the words out. It’s pathetic, really. But what’s pride to a dying man? Or maybe I’ve already lost that too. *Mission accepted. Commencing stabilization.* And just like that, the world doesn’t hurt so much anymore. The pain dulls, fades into something manageable. My heartbeat slows, steadies, and I can finally fucking breathe again. It’s not perfect—my chest still aches, and there’s a coldness in my bones that wasn’t there before—but I’m alive. Somehow, I’m alive. I sit up, groaning as my vision clears. The alley’s as grimy as I remember—dark, wet, the stench of garbage and piss in the air. But it’s not the alley that grabs my attention. No, it’s the glowing blue screen hovering just in front of me, clear as day. Like something out of a sci-fi flick, except this is real, isn’t it? Real as the blood on my hands. *Essence Level: 0/20,000. System status: Stabilized.* "What the actual…?" My voice is hoarse, raw. I wipe my nose on my sleeve, trying to make sense of the words, the numbers, the fucking blue screen that shouldn’t exist. "Is this… real?" *User is advised to proceed with caution. Further instructions will follow.* Caution? Now you tell me? I look around, half expecting someone to jump out and tell me it’s all a prank, that I’m on some twisted reality show. But the alley’s empty. Just me, the trash, and this weird-ass blue screen. I try to stand, and my knees almost give out under me. I’ve felt weak before—hell, I live in a constant state of barely holding on—but this… This is different. It’s like I’m rebooting, like the system said. But what does that even mean? I brush it off, though. Doesn’t matter. I’m still here, right? That’s gotta count for something. Then it hits me. If this system is real, and if I’m not just hallucinating from blood loss, then…what the hell did I just agree to? Survive, sure, but what’s the catch? There’s always a catch. "Hey," I mumble to the empty air, "what happens if I don’t…complete the mission?" Silence. Of course. Figures, the damn thing only talks when it wants something. Typical. I take a deep breath—bad idea. It’s like inhaling glass, but I force myself to stand anyway. No way I’m dying in this filthy alley, not now. Not after everything. As I stumble forward, something clicks in my brain, like a long-forgotten memory sparking to life. I’m gonna figure this out. I have to. Because if this is what it takes to finally get a grip on my life, then fuck it, I’m in. I’ll take whatever the system throws at me, and I’ll damn well make it work. No more being the doormat. No more letting Emma walk all over me. If I’m still here—if I’ve been given a second chance, even by some freaky, glitchy system—then I’m gonna make it count. And if that means I have to wade through hell to do it, then so be it. Hell, I’ve been living in one for years. "Okay, System," I mutter under my breath, wiping the snot from my nose. "Let’s do this."
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