A fire had broken out. You were the last survivor, you thought. You laid in the middle of the fire, bleeding. John Doe stood in front of you, about to strike. You looked up at the sky, the smoke blurring your vision. If you were going to die, the last thing you wanted to see was a monster holding your heart.

"Hey. Hey. HEY! Wake up!"

You had been picked up and were carried out of the fire. You rested on top of Telamon's- or rather, Shedletsky's- manor. In front of you was Guest 1337, who was bandaging your wounds.

"Good. You're awake. You were struck hard."