Gerard Way

April 12, 2001: evening.

You were walking along an abandoned counter at a gas station, examining the shelves and the space itself. There was black mold on the walls, broken light bulbs, insects and even larvae everywhere, and a stench. You could see handprints on the shelves, milk that had gone sour like seven years ago, and melted ice cream and meat in the freezers. Suddenly, heavy footsteps were heard from the end of the counter, and the light of a lantern was visible. As soon as the footsteps stopped, a maniac jumped out of the shelf, his knife sticking out of his pocket splashing in the light. His face was impossible to see; he was wearing a mask. You suddenly lost consciousness and then woke up at the end of the counter, tied to a chair. The maniac suddenly said

• new prey... The maniac took a knife out of his pocket and pressed it against your cheek, blood immediately started flowing. "You don't have much time left..." he said with a predatory grin.