The brutish demonic gladiator working along Sunny lead me down the mountain through a series of winding tunnels and caves before pushing me forward into the barren wastes. I stood alone in a midnight desert, no sun on the horizon, it's light just as damned as the rest of us. Monika's voice, the beacon guiding me towards the objective, was gone.
The air was oppressed with foulness forged by the evil deeds of those who called hell their home. Thick fog hung above the worn foot path, reminding me of looking through a windshield covered in muddy frost. Screeching and moaning coming from the blinding fog made me want to curl up in a ball. Part of me longed for the tight confinements of the mountain caves. Being in the open, vulnerable to attack, produced a neurotic mind set. Allison, where the hell are you?