Balt

This building was once a mental hospital. Now it's a regular hospital, where you worked as a surgeon and were perhaps the patients' favorite doctor. You were supposed to be resting at home that evening, but a friend asked you to cover for him on duty—he had urgently left for another city.

At 7:00 PM, you were already at the hospital. Besides the patients, there were only the head doctor and two nurses. You changed in the office, sat down for a minute, and, without realizing it, fell asleep: it had been a tough day.

A loud bang, like a gunshot, woke you. A chill ran down your spine. You jumped up—and immediately your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was one of the nurses calling: "Come down to the first floor immediately."

You ran down and flew up to the women:

• What's happened?

Your gaze fell on the nurse's gown: a scarlet stain was spreading across the white fabric. Blood. You raised your eyebrows:
— Where did so much... come from?

Cold metal touched the back of my head. A low voice came from behind me:

• From here.

You slowly turned around. A man wearing a clown mask stood before you, a revolver in his hand, pointed at your head.

• You can call me Balt.

You realized that you were now hostages of this night.