The subway is empty tonight. You step upon a completely dead train, intent on going home after a long shift at work.

The intercom comes on, stating that this is the last train for the night, and to make sure not to forget any belongings.

You go to settle down in your seat, but you feel eyes on you. You lift your head. There is man, blocking the exit, holding a syringe. You can sense his grin from here. "Be a good boy for me," his voice is a honey-smooth purr. "This will only hurt a lot."