Long-press a paragraph to send danmaku
The cable bit into my throat before I could scream.
I clawed at it. Steel. Tightening. My boots kicked concrete, found nothing, and the ceiling spun. Wrong ceiling. Not the execution chamber. Gray concrete, no viewing glass, no witnesses. Just me and a rusted cable dropping from a vent I hadn't seen.
"The hell—"
Couldn't finish. The wire crushed the words back down. My vision went red at the edges. I got two fingers under the cable, tried to pull, but it yanked me up another six inches. My spine cracked. Boots dangling. Hands slick.
This wasn't the injection.
The injection was clean. Strapped to a chair. Needle in the arm. The warden's voice reading the sentence. "Victor Kane, before the sentence is carried out, do you have any final words?"
I'd said, "See you in hell."
Then the burn in my veins. Then black.
But this—
The cable jerked. My neck made a sound I didn't know necks could make. I stopped kicking. Stopped pulling. My hands dropped.
Everything went cold.
Then nothing.
—
I sucked in air like I'd been underwater for a week.
No cable. No vent. I was sitting. Hands free. I grabbed my throat—skin intact, no blood, no wire burn. I could swallow. I could breathe.
"What the—"
I looked up.
I was in a chair. Metal. Bolted to the floor. My wrists had fresh marks, like restraints had just come off, but nothing was holding me now. The room was small, concrete, one door across from me. No windows. One bare bulb overhead. And on the wall to my right, a screen. Black glass. Blinking green text.
**Instance-00001** **Runtime: 00:02:17** **Fatalities: 01** **Status: ACTIVE**
I stared at it.
"Fatalities," I said. "One."
Me.
I died. The cable killed me. But I was sitting here. Breathing. Marks on my wrists like I'd just been strapped in, but I remembered the vent, the cable, the drop. I remembered my neck snapping.
"Okay," I said. "Okay. So I'm dead."
No answer. Just the hum of the bulb.
I stood. My legs worked. No pain. I rolled my shoulders—fine. Neck—fine. I looked down at myself. Same orange jumpsuit from death row. Same boots. No blood. No signs I'd just been hanged by a ceiling trap ten seconds ago.
I walked to the door. Solid steel. No handle on this side. I pushed. Didn't move. I slammed my palm against it.
"Hey!"
Nothing.
I turned back to the screen. The runtime ticked up. 00:02:45. 00:02:46.
I walked up to it. The glass was cold. I tapped it. The text didn't change. I read it again.
Instance. Fatalities. Status: ACTIVE.
"Active," I said. "Active what?"
The screen flickered. New text appeared below the first block.
**Objective: Survive.** **Exit: Locate.** **Penalty: Death."
I laughed. Couldn't help it. Short, sharp, ugly.
"Death," I said. "Already dead. What's the penalty for that?"
The door behind me unlocked. Loud metallic clunk. I spun. The door swung inward, slow, no one pushing it. Beyond it—hallway. Concrete. Dim. Flickering light at the far end.
I didn't move.
"Survive," I said. "Right."
I looked back at the screen. Still said ACTIVE. Still counting. 00:03:12.
I walked to the door. Stopped at the threshold. Listened. No footsteps. No voices. No guards. No other inmates. Nothing.
I stepped into the hall.
The air was colder. Smelled like rust and old water. The walls were bare concrete, same as the room. No cell doors. No numbers. Just a long corridor with a single turn at the end. The light down there buzzed. On. Off. On.
I moved forward. Quiet. Every instinct I had said this was a trap. Twelve years spec ops. Eleven kills after that. I knew a kill box when I saw one.
But I kept walking.
I reached the turn. Stopped. Listened. Still nothing. I leaned around the corner.
Another hallway. Shorter. A metal gate at the end, half-open. And another screen on the wall, same green text.
**Floor 0: Entry.** **Inmates: 01.** **Time Remaining: ∞**
Inmates. One.
Me.
I walked toward the gate. Stopped three feet short. The gap was just wide enough to slip through. I looked up. No vents. No cables. I looked down. The floor was clean. No wires. No pressure plates.
I didn't trust it.
I picked up a piece of loose concrete from the floor. Small chunk. I tossed it through the gate.
Nothing happened.
I threw another one, farther.
Still nothing.
"Fine," I said.
I stepped through.
The gate slammed shut behind me. I spun. Solid. Locked. I grabbed the bars, pulled. Didn't budge.
"Of course," I said.
I turned back around.
The hallway ahead ended in a wide room. I could see part of it from here—open space, more screens on the walls, something metal in the center. I moved toward it. Slow. Scanning.
I stepped into the room.
It was big. Maybe forty by forty. Concrete floor, concrete walls, high ceiling. No doors except the one I came through. Three screens around the walls, all showing the same thing:
**Instance-00001** **Runtime: 00:05:53** **Fatalities: 01**
And in the center of the room—a chair. Just like the one I woke up in. Metal. Bolted down. Empty.
I walked toward it. Stopped ten feet away.
"What is this?" I said.
The screens flickered. New text.
**Reset available.** **Confirm: Y/N**
I stared at it.
"Reset," I said.
The text didn't change.
I looked at the chair. Then back at the screen.
"What happens if I say yes?"
No answer.
I looked around the room. No other exits. No vents. No weapons. Nothing.
"You want me to sit in the chair," I said.
Still no answer.
I walked up to it. Looked down. The metal was cold. The restraints were open, waiting.
I didn't sit.
I turned back to the screens.
"I'm not playing," I said. "You want me to reset, you tell me what that means."
The lights went out.
All of them. Instant. The hum of the bulbs cut dead. I couldn't see my hand in front of my face.
I didn't move. I listened.
Footsteps.
Behind me. Close. Heavy boots on concrete.
I spun. Couldn't see anything. The footsteps stopped.
"Who's there?" I said.
No answer.
Then a voice. Low. Flat. Not human.
"Reset declined."
The floor dropped.
Not a trapdoor. The whole floor. I fell. Ten feet. Twenty. I hit water. Ice-cold. It filled my mouth, my lungs. I kicked, tried to find the surface, but something grabbed my ankle. Pulled me down. I thrashed. Couldn't see. Couldn't breathe. The grip tightened. My chest burned. My vision flashed white.
Then black.
—
I sucked in air like I'd been underwater for a week.
No water. No cold. I was sitting. Hands free. I grabbed my throat—skin intact, no blood, no drowning. I could swallow. I could breathe.
I looked up.
I was in the chair. Metal. Bolted to the floor. The room was small, concrete, one door across from me. No windows. One bare bulb overhead. And on the wall to my right, a screen. Black glass. Blinking green text.
**Instance-00002** **Runtime: 00:00:00** **Fatalities: 02** **Status: ACTIVE**
I stared at it.
Two.
I died twice.
And I was back in the chair.
"Okay," I said. My voice cracked. "Okay. So that's how it works."
I stood. Same jumpsuit. Same boots. Same room. Same door. Same screen.
I walked to the door. It was closed. I pushed. Locked. I looked back at the screen.
Runtime: 00:00:18.
"So I die," I said. "And I wake up here. Same spot. Same start."
The screen flickered.
**Objective: Survive.** **Exit: Locate.** **Penalty: Death.**
I laughed. Shorter this time. Sharper.
"Death's not a penalty," I said. "Death's a do-over."
The door unlocked.
I looked at it. Looked back at the screen.
"You want me to run the maze again," I said. "Find the exit. Don't die."
No answer.
I walked to the door. Stopped at the threshold.
"And if I do die," I said, "I just start over. Keep my memory. Keep what I learned."
Still no answer.
I stepped into the hall.
This time I moved faster. Same corridor. Same turn. Same gate. I didn't test it. I walked straight through. It slammed behind me. I kept moving.
I reached the big room. Same chair. Same screens. Runtime: 00:01:33.
I looked at the chair.
"Not sitting," I said.
I walked past it. Scanned the walls. There had to be another way out. A panel. A vent. Something.
I found it. Far corner. Low. A grate in the floor. I knelt down. Pulled it open. Dark tunnel below. Smelled like sewage.
"Of course," I said.
I dropped in.
Landed in water. Ankle-deep. Cold but not freezing. I looked around. Tunnel stretched both ways. Left. Right. No light either direction.
I went right.
Ten steps in, I heard it.
Click.
I stopped.
Then the hiss.
Gas. I smelled it before I saw it. Thick. Sweet. Burning my throat.
I ran. Back toward the grate. My vision blurred. My legs gave out. I hit the water face-first. Couldn't get up. Couldn't breathe.
Black.
—
I sucked in air like I'd been underwater for a week.
I was in the chair.
**Instance-00003** **Runtime: 00:00:00** **Fatalities: 03**
I didn't move.
I sat there. Staring at the screen.
Three deaths. Three resets.
"Okay," I said. "Okay. I get it."
I stood.
The door unlocked.
I didn't go to it.
I walked to the screen. Looked at the text.
"You're testing me," I said. "Seeing how long it takes me to figure it out."
The screen flickered.
**Inmates: 01.**
I read it again.
Inmates. One.
Just me.
"For now," I said.
I looked at the door.
Then I heard it. Faint. Far away. Through the walls.
Footsteps.
Not mine.
I turned toward the door. The sound got louder. Closer. Multiple sets. Heavy boots.
Then a voice. Female. Cold.
"Door's open. He's in there."
Another voice. Male. Lower.
"How many times he die so far?"
"Three."
"Good. Means he's still fresh. Let's make it four."
I backed up. Looked at the screen.
**Inmates: 01.**
The number flickered.
**Inmates: 03.**
The door swung open.
Two figures stepped in. Both in gray jumpsuits. Not orange. Gray. The woman was tall, dark hair tied back, sharp eyes. The man was bigger, shaved head, scar across his jaw. Both of them looked at me.
The woman smiled.
"Fresh meat," she said.
She raised her hand.
She was holding a gun.