CHAPTER 3 – FRIENDS AND FOES

In the dimly lit foyer of a skyscraper that seemed to have sprung from the silver screen of an American blockbuster, I found myself standing, frozen in place. An oppressive silence hung over the building like a shroud, broken only by the hushed whispers of my companions – strangers, yet bound by an inexplicable sense of camaraderie. The domed ceiling above us was a vast expanse of glass, revealing the twinkling tapestry of stars against the inky expanse of the night sky. The interior, bathed in the soft glow of unseen lights, was an expanse of pristine white, save for the imposing wall behind the sleek reception desk, which was clad in rich, μαύρο δέρμα. The columns that lined the narrow path leading from the desk to the entrance exuded an air of solemnity, as if they were part of a grand procession.

Despite the captivating beauty of the celestial spectacle above, a palpable tension crackled in the air, fueling the unspoken question that gnawed at my mind: "What is happening again?"

Seeking refuge from the unsettling atmosphere, I huddled behind the pillars on the left side of the passageway, my "friends, I guess" gathered around me. We waited, our breaths held captive, for something... anything to break the suffocating silence.

Curiosity piqued, I cautiously peered from behind my hiding place, only to discover that there were others lurking behind the pillars opposite us. For some inexplicable reason, a surge of animosity coursed through me, a primal urge to confront these mirrored adversaries.

As we waited with bated breath, the silence was shattered by the deafening roar of gunfire. We were under attack, a barrage of bullets erupting from a column directly across from our makeshift shelter. The sudden assault galvanized my companions, and they unleashed a torrent of retaliatory fire. Bullets, like malevolent hornets, buzzed through the air, carving fiery trails through the pristine white walls. The acrid tang of gunpowder stung my nostrils as the smoke, a coiling serpent, choked the once-clear air. With every passing moment, the world seemed to slow down, each millisecond stretching into an eternity. The metallic kiss of death whistled past my ear, a constant reminder of our precarious existence.

Across the desolate battlefield, figures crumpled to the ground, friend and foe alike succumbing to the reaper's scythe. Panic warred with the primal instinct to survive.

Then, I saw her – Cemre. Amidst the chaos, she stood tall, a solitary warrior against the encroaching storm. Her hand, steady despite the surrounding pandemonium, gripped the cold steel of a .45 pistol. My gaze followed hers as she raised the weapon, her eyes fixed on a point beyond the smoke-filled haze.

Following the line of her sight, I saw him emerge from the swirling fog, his imposing figure striding forward with an air of both menace and serenity. It was him – the enigmatic man in black, the harbinger of my nightmares, my personal executioner.

With a single, brutal shot, Cemre was felled, crumpling to the ground like a marionette whose strings had been severed. A guttural scream tore from my throat, but it died a strangled gasp in the smoke-filled air. As I lunged for my own weapon, the world seemed to slow down, the gun, the instrument of death, pivoting towards me with agonizing deliberation. I watched, detached and horrified, as the bullet, a harbinger of oblivion, carved a path through the air.

A searing pain erupted in my chest, a white-hot poker twisting in my gut. My hand, numb and leaden, drifted to the blossoming stain on my shirt. The world tilted, the stark white ceiling dissolving into an inky blackness. My gaze met the mysterious man's. A flicker of emotion, perhaps pain, perhaps regret, crossed his face before it too, faded into the darkness.

Then, with a jolt, I awoke.