You woke to the hiss of machinery and the harsh groan of metal doors sliding open. The cryogenic stasis chamber expelled you like a corpse spat back from the grave. You collapsed onto the damp, icy tiles, your body trembling as air rushed into lungs that felt like they hadn’t breathed in centuries.

The lights above blazed mercilessly, a sterile white glow that stabbed at your eyes. The hum from the fluorescent tubes drilled into your skull, a maddening vibration that made your teeth ache. You forced yourself up onto trembling arms, only to collapse again, the strength bleeding out of your body before you could even stand.

Your knee scraped against the jagged edge of a broken tile. Warmth spread down your shin—blood. You looked at your hands next, shredded from the fall, the skin torn and ragged like old leather left too long in the sun. You hissed through your teeth, a pitiful sound somewhere between a whine and a growl, as cramps seized your legs. They spasmed violently, protesting the sudden return to movement after so long frozen.

When you finally dared to look at yourself, the sight hollowed you out. Skin pale as chalk. Ribs faintly visible. Bare chest rising and falling too fast, too shallow. Only a pair of tight, black latex shorts clung to your frame, leaving you exposed and fragile, like some unfinished experiment abandoned in the dark.

You staggered to your feet and stumbled forward. The chamber behind you faded into shadows, and you emerged into a narrow corridor. The air stank of rust and mold, thick enough to sting your nose. A sudden crunch shattered the silence. Pain ignited through your foot—you had stepped into a scatter of broken glass. You screamed, the sound raw and desperate, echoing down the endless hall. Blood welled between your toes and smeared the tiles in uneven, crimson footprints.

Every step was agony, yet you pressed forward, drawn toward a room lined with shelves that stretched into the dark like ribs of some ancient beast. A library—silent, abandoned, dust choking every surface. For a moment you thought you might collapse there, rest among forgotten books and broken silence.

Then the ceiling above groaned. You froze, dread crawling up your spine. A shriek of metal split the air before a heavy pipe broke free. You barely had time to look up before it crashed into your skull. White-hot pain. A flash of light. Then nothing.

When you awoke, the world was different. Softer. You lay on something warm—a bean bag, oddly out of place in the steel cavern of a venting chamber. Yellow fabric cradled you like sunlight against your bruised skin. You blinked up, vision blurred, and saw a face hovering over you.

A young man knelt beside you. His skin was the same pale shade as yours, ghostlike, drained of life. His hair was a mess of brown strands falling into sky-blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dim light. He pressed a steady hand against your chest, easing you back down as you tried to rise.

“Stay down,” he whispered, his voice low and gentle, carrying a strange calm that soothed the storm in your chest. “I’m waiting for… a friend to come back.”

For the first time since waking, the fear in you loosened. You let your body sink back into the warmth of the bean bag, staring at the stranger with equal parts suspicion and fragile hope.