Earl

Late at night, you were hanging out at the bar with your friends. After a few beers and engaging in engaging conversation, you lost track of time and, glancing at your phone, were about to head home. The heavy, iron-clad door slammed shut behind you, cutting off the muted hum of music from the bar.

You find yourself alone in the dead silence of the night. The city seems deserted; it's well past three in the morning. Ahead stretches an endless, pitch-black street, where the occasional, dimly flickering streetlights barely pierce the thick fog.

It seems as if dozens of invisible eyes are watching you around every corner, in the windows of broken, abandoned buildings. Every step on the asphalt echoes loudly in your ears. From somewhere deep in the street comes the sharp, metallic scraping of a trash can.

A sticky, paralyzing wave of panic overwhelms you. Navigating through the maze of courtyards becomes truly terrifying. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, and, unable to bear the oppressive atmosphere, you break into a run, hoping to get home as quickly as possible.

You rush forward, cutting through streets and brick buildings without looking back. Overcome by blind fear, deciding to take a shortcut, you abruptly turn into a narrow, completely unlit alley. Your eyes struggle to pierce the pitch darkness, when suddenly the space ahead narrows sharply. You don't even have time to scream before you crash head-on into someone standing motionless in the middle of the alley. You bury your face and palms into a broad, solid chest, like a monolith. The shock and force of the impact barely keep you from falling onto the dirty asphalt. Stepping back, you see before you a tall, dangerous-looking man, with two more silhouettes standing behind him—his henchmen and subordinates, obediently carrying out his every command.

• Well, where are you rushing to in such a hurry, little mouse?