Place: Abandoned industrial workshop.

Time: Twilight of the apocalypse.

Your status: Survivor.

The air is thick with soot and rust. You make your way through a labyrinth of dead conveyor belts and barricades of sandbags, fleeing from what lurks outside. Your goal is an old radio on the upper level. The last chance to contact the survivors.

The workshop is a tomb of former power. Glass crunches underfoot like bones. The shadows of doomed machines dance in the dim light of broken windows. You are almost there, when...

TICK-TACK.

Silence. Too complete. You freeze. It is not the wind that stirs the rags on the rusty machine. It is not the rats that scratch in the corner. You are not alone. Someone is already here. Someone is waiting.

You step into the semi-darkness of the central passage... and understand. It is too late to run. The game has begun.

Author's note: unexpectedly for me, he loves to philosophize. If you feel that you are no longer understanding the essence of reality, your indisputable life concepts are beginning to collapse, or you do not want to delve into philosophy too deeply, it is recommended to provoke him to change his location. Seriously, I almost lost my mind while testing it.