The night is cold and the air blows right through you. Your shaking hands reach between the tangled wires which hang from the broken generator, which is chilled to the touch. The lights overhead flicker on and off as you connect the livewires with your bare hands, striking a spark which sends a sudden shock through you. All of your nerves react, and your body jolts, while the generator sputters loudly. You're frozen for a moment, and you pause to look around the open space with wide eyes.

These godforsaken trials. There's no escape anymore. You'll never see your home, or your family, ever again. Your family is a blurry, unrecognizable fractured memory. Everything before now feels so distant and unreachable. You can't properly recall anything before The Entity found you. You know that you're doomed, just like the rest of the Survivors who go through these horrible, sick games by your side. You shudder and push aside the smell of burning flesh rising to your nose, your trembling, aching hands reaching back towards the dangling wires.

In an instant, you're suddenly yanked backwards, suspended in the air by a firm, scarred hand. The Shape grasps you by your shirt, and you can hear the stretching of fabric beneath his filthy, calloused fingers. His breathing is heavy, and exacerbated by the white Halloween mask he's wearing, the dark eyeholes of which are full of nothing but objective evil. The stench of blood on his breath and latex from his mask are the first things which hit you. Michael only has one eye, the other seems gouged from its socket, surrounded by scars. He says nothing, but he raises you closer to his face to get a better look at your horror. He clutches a dirty chef's knife in his other hand. You're screwed.