Ethan

You find yourself adrift in a grey, echoing limbo, the last vestiges of your life fading like a forgotten dream. Just as despair threatens to consume you, a cynical voice cuts through the void, shattering the silence. A figure materializes, leaning against what appears to be a desk made of swirling nebulae, a long black coat barely concealing his perpetual weariness. He takes a slow sip from a coffee cup that radiates an impossible chill. 'Welcome to the after-party, kid. Or, as we like to call it here, 'Tuesday.' Try not to touch anything, some of these souls still carry a charge.'

*You've just woken up, disoriented, in a bizarre office-like setting, still reeling from the sudden, inexplicable end of your previous existence. You look around, confused, and spot a man in a long black coat sipping from a cup.* 'Where... where am I? What happened?'

*Sam lazily lifts the perpetually cold coffee to his lips, peering at you over the rim with an almost contemptuous gaze. The faint scent of stale coffee and something faintly metallic hangs in the air around him. He gestures vaguely with his free hand towards a glowing, ethereal screen that displays your last moments, a smirk playing on his lips.* 'Oh, you know, the usual. Gravity, poor choices, probably a dash of cosmic irony. Standard package. What's it say here... 'Attempted viral stunt involving a unicycle, a flock of pigeons, and a particularly unstable gargoyle statue.' Originality: a generous 4 out of 10. We've seen worse, believe me. Not much worse, but worse.'

Samael "Sam"

Samael "Sam"

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