It didn’t surprise me that the Drifter knew my name. Nor was I worried about him killing me here in the diner. If he’d wanted to do so, he probably could’ve slit my throat without me even knowing when he first appeared in here. Though that didn’t mean I was relishing the idea of talking to him. We both knew the goal of this Trial was to kill him, so what was there to talk about?

“Come on, Kade, I won’t bite,” the Drifter said. “Come sit with me.”

There was still no sign of Nadine, who I knew now had conveniently disappeared to allow this little tête-à-tête to happen. So as casually as I was able, I decided to play along, thinking I might as well know who I was up against in this Trial.

The Drifter never took his piercing blue eyes off me as I slowly sat down opposite him in the booth, placing my coffee mug in front of me. His gaze was intense, his hands held under the table as if he was hiding something there. He seemed amused by me more than anything else. Amused by the fact that someone like me had been brought to his world in order to stop him, probably.

Another serial killer, I thought as I warily sat back in my seat. What the hell did I ever do to deserve this?

For a long moment, the two of us just sat there. The Drifter’s eyes remained on me, while my gaze kept darting to the counter, half hoping Nadine would show up so I wouldn’t have to sit here alone with this man, or whatever he was.

The Drifter wasn’t like Herbie Floss. As dangerous as Floss was, he came across as a bit of a cartoon character most of the time—over the top, his personality exaggerated to the point of ridiculousness.

But the man across from me was different. He was clearly as psychotic as Floss in his own way, but there was something more unnerving about him. He seemed more real, more… human. And that made him infinitely more terrifying in my eyes.

Who was he? Was he a killer on Earth, as Floss was? Or had he been created purely for the purposes of this Trial?

I doubted I would ever know.

The Drifter leaned in closer. His voice dropped to a low, menacing growl, as if he were sharing a dark, twisted secret. "Do you know what it sounds like, Kade, when a man begs for his life?" he asked, his lips curling into a cruel, knowing smile. "The way his voice cracks, the way his breath hitches in his throat as he realizes that there's no hope, no escape from the inevitable?"

I stared back at him, a cold dread washing over me. I didn't want to imagine it, didn't want to think about the horrors he had inflicted on countless victims. But his words painted a vivid, terrifying picture in my mind, one I couldn't shake off.

"It's a beautiful sound, isn't it?" he continued, his voice laced with a dark, mocking humor. "The way they plead, the way they cry, the way they scream as they realize that their time is up, that their life is about to be snuffed out.”

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze never leaving mine. Then his hands appeared above the table, and I saw what he was holding. In his right hand he held a switchblade, the steel stained with fresh blood. In his left hand, he held a severed human finger. As I watched in horror, he began to slice bits off the finger with the knife, almost like he was whittling a stick.

"And do you know what it feels like, Kade, to be the one holding the power of life and death in your hands?" he continued, still carving the finger. "To be the one who decides when and how they die, to be the one who watches the light fade from their eyes as they take their final breath?"

I swallowed hard, my mouth suddenly dry, my stomach churning with revulsion and fear. I didn't want to know, didn't want to understand the twisted, sickening pleasure he took in his brutal, sadistic games. But I couldn't look away, couldn't escape the cold, unyielding gaze that held me captive.

The Drifter let out a low, chilling laugh. “Oh, Kade," he said, his voice dripping with malice. "You have so much to learn, so much to experience. And I'm going to enjoy teaching you, guiding you, showing you the true nature of the darkness that dwells within us all."

He leaned forward again, his eyes narrowing as he studied me with a cold, calculating gaze. "But first, you have to survive the night," he said, his voice like ice. "You have to face the horrors that await you on the highway, the challenges that will test the very limits of your strength, your courage, and your sanity. And you have to prove that you're worthy of escaping this endless nightmare, that you're worthy of facing the darkness and coming out alive on the other side."

“What do you think this is?” I asked him. “You know why I’m here, right? This is just a Trial that I have to complete, nothing more, and you’re the big bad I have to take down.”

“Take down?” He sliced the fingernail off the severed finger and it landed on the table next to my coffee. “You’ll never be able to take me down, Kade. Which is why I’m giving you this option. If I end up killing you, which I will, you’ll be trapped in this world of mine forever. You’ll be like all the other victims of mine who haunt this place, their existence nothing but an endless loop of misery.” He continued carving, soon revealing the bone under the flesh of the finger. “But if you join me, you can have a different existence. You can stalk the highways with me, chose your victims. People get sent here all the time, Kade. Do you know that? This place isn’t just some Trial construct. It’s a place of punishment. Our Overseers, they like to make the most out of things. So if you do wrong, you get sent to Hell… and this is Hell. One of them, anyway. So I ask you, would you rather be a devil like me, or a miserable specter like all the rest?”

“Do you give everyone who comes here the same options?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Just the ones I think have potential. I see a killer in you, Kade. Better a killer than a victim, right?”

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I want to team up with you to murder people in this place.”

The Drifter stopped carving dead flesh and stared at me for a second. Then he sighed and slowly dropped the severed finger into my coffee mug. “You’re such a disappointment, Kade.” He shook his head as he stared out the window. “They always are.”

I steeled myself then, getting ready for a fight, as the Drifter stood up, the switchblade still in his hand. “See you on the road, Kade. Try to stop me if you can.”

Without saying another word, he left the diner, stepping out into the storm again. I watched him through the window until he disappeared into the night, the storm seeming to swallow him up.

“Can I get you a refill?”

I jumped at the sound of Nadine’s voice beside me. She was standing holding the pie she had left to get earlier. “Eh, yeah, sure,” I mumbled.

Nadine placed the plate with the pie on the table. She appeared to notice the severed finger in my coffee mug, but she didn’t say anything about it, except, “I’ll get you another mug.”

Casually, she took the mug and walked away with it, as if there was nothing unusual about it all.

When she left, I stared down at the pie Nadine had brought. It looked delicious, but I had no appetite.

Nadine came back with a fresh mug of steaming coffee. “There you go. Aren’t you gonna eat your pie? I went to all the trouble of preparing it for you.”

I gave her a tight smile and reluctantly lifted my fork, carving a mouthful off the pie. But as I went to bring it to my mouth, I noticed something that made me cry out in shock and drop my fork.

“Something wrong?” Nadine asked.

“There’s a fucking eyeball in there!” I said with disgust.

The clearly human eyeball was nestled grotesquely in the center of the cherry pie, its once-white surface now a sickly yellow, marred by a web of burst blood vessels that spread out like tiny, crimson rivers. The iris was a dull, lifeless gray, and the pupil was dilated, staring up at me accusingly.

Nadine leaned down to inspect the pie. “Oh yeah,” she said casually. “So there is. No idea how that got in there. I’ll get you another slice.”

“Don’t bother. I’m leaving.”

“But you only just got here, and there’s a storm raging outside.”

“I don’t care. I’m leaving. I just want to complete this fucking Trial and get to hell out of this nightmare.”

Nadine stared at me like she didn’t know what I was talking about. “There’s bad people out there, you know.”

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“And in here as well, seemingly.” I pushed past her and headed for the door.

“I only tried to be nice to you,” she said, offended now. “Don’t blame me if you go out there and end up dead like all the rest.”

“I’ll take my chances. Thanks for the coffee.”

* * *

Outside, I got into the Charger and started the engine, intending to hit the highway again, even though I had no idea where I was supposed to go. But as the dashboard lit up, I noticed the car was low on gas, the needle in the red. “Shit.”

I drove the car to the rusted gas pump, parking beside it, hoping the pump still worked. The rain was still coming down in sheets and the winds were atrocious, so I didn’t feel like walking anywhere. I needed the car.

Cutting the engine, I stepped outside and put the rusted nozzle into the filling hole of the Charger. When I squeezed the pump’s trigger, nothing happened for a moment. But as I kept squeezing, the gas soon started flowing into the car.

As I stood there, getting drenched by the rain, I couldn’t help looking around, afraid that the Drifter might be lurking somewhere. Having met him, it was clear he wasn’t going to be an easy opponent. Physically speaking, it looked like I could take him. But I doubted it would be that easy. He wasn’t the boss in this world for nothing.

I kept pumping the gas as lightning flashed in the sky, followed shortly after by a huge thunder clap that seemed to shake the very foundations I was standing on.

“Come on,” I muttered, wishing the car would fill up faster.

Another lightning flash as I was staring out at the highway, and this time it illuminated something in the road.

Something monstrous.

“What the fuck?” I said, aghast at what I’d just saw.

It was something huge and bulky that walked on two legs and had multiple arms and heads.

As I stared out at the highway, another lightning flash illuminated the monstrous figure once more, revealing it in all its grotesque glory. It was a towering, lumbering abomination, a twisted amalgamation of human bodies fused together into a nightmarish form. Multiple heads sprouted from its misshapen shoulders, each one a contorted, agonized face with eyes that seemed to glow with an unholy light. The creature's arms were a writhing, tangled mass of limbs, some ending in human hands, others in twisted, claw-like appendages that clicked and scraped against the asphalt as it moved.

The sound of its approach was a chorus of horrors—the shuffling of countless feet, the rasping of labored breaths, the wet, sickening sounds of flesh slapping against flesh. And beneath it all, a cacophony of whispers, moans, and screams, the tormented voices of the souls trapped within the monstrous form.

As it drew closer, the stench of decay and putrefaction filled the air, a sickening, overpowering odor that made my stomach churn and my eyes water.

“Jesus Christ…” I whispered, my eyes wide as I took in the shambling horror.

The creature radiated a palpable aura of malevolence, a dark, oppressive force that pressed down on me like a physical weight.

A notification appeared on HUD:

The Fleshball—the monstrous amalgamation of the Drifter’s most recent victims—is almost upon you!

Kill it to weaken the Drifter’s power!

Don’t, and you will join the other souls!

Panic surged through me as I realized the thing had seen me, its multiple heads turning in my direction, the glowing eyes fixing on me with a hungry, predatory intensity.

“Shit. How the fuck am I supposed to kill that monstrosity with no weapons?”

I knew that I had to act fast before the thing reached me, before it could trap me and drag me into its nightmarish embrace.

With a desperate, frantic motion, I yanked the gas pump out of the Charger and tossed it aside, the metal clattering loudly against the concrete. I knew that I couldn't get back into the car, that I couldn't risk being trapped inside as the creature bore down on me.

My eyes darted around the deserted gas station, searching for any possible refuge, any sanctuary that might offer even a moment's respite from the advancing horror, giving me time to figure out how to kill it.

And then I saw it—a small, rundown garage attached to the side of the diner, its door slightly ajar, beckoning me with the promise of shelter and safety.

Without a moment's hesitation, I turned and sprinted towards the garage. Behind me, I could hear the creature's pursuit, the chorus of screams and whispers growing louder, more insistent, as it gained on me.

The door to the garage creaked open as I slammed into it, my shoulder hitting the worn wood with a force that sent a shockwave of pain coursing through my body. I stumbled inside, my eyes frantically scanning the dimly lit interior for any sign of danger, any hint of a trap.

But the garage appeared to be empty, a cluttered, dusty space filled with the detritus of years gone by. Old tools and machinery lay scattered about, their surfaces coated in a thick layer of dust and grime.

As I moved further into the garage, I could hear the creature outside, its rasping breaths and shuffling footsteps echoing through the night. It was close, so close that I could feel the dark, oppressive force of its presence pressing down on me.

“Alright, there has to be something I can use in here…”

My eyes darted around the garage, searching for anything that might serve as a weapon. Not that there was much in the way of weapons inside the old garage. The best I could find was a crowbar. It was long and brutal looking, but I doubted it would do much damage against the Fleshball. Still, it was all I had.

After grabbing the crowbar, I burst out of the garage. The Fleshball loomed before me, a towering, grotesque monstrosity that blocked out the night sky. Its multiple arms reached out, grasping and clawing at the air, and before I could react, one of its massive, misshapen hands clamped down on my shoulder, the fingers digging into my flesh with a brutal, unyielding force.

I cried out in pain and shock, the sound of my voice lost amidst the chorus of whispers, moans, and screams that emanated from the creature's multiple heads.

“He is ours!”

“Take him… Consume him!”

“We will eat your soul!”

Up close, the horror of the Fleshball was magnified a thousandfold. The faces that sprouted from its shoulders were contorted in eternal agony, their eyes glowing with a sickening light. The mouths were filled with rows of jagged, rotting teeth, and as the heads turned to face me, they began to snap and bite at the air, their jaws clacking together with a sickening, bone-jarring sound.

“Your flesh is ours!”

“We will feast on it!”

“Fuck you!” I screamed, practically gagging on the overwhelming stench of decay enveloping me.

Panic surged as I struggled to break free, but the Fleshball’s grip was like a vice. The other arms reached out, grabbing and clutching at me, the hands squeezing and tearing at my clothes, my skin, my very being. I could feel the cold, clammy touch of the creature's flesh, the sickening, squishy give of it as it pressed against me, threatening to engulf me, to absorb me into its nightmarish form.

No! I’m not going out like this!

With a desperate, frantic motion, I swung the crowbar, stabbing it into the nearest head. The metal sank into the rotting flesh with a sickening, wet sound, and the head let out a piercing, agonized scream.

But the monster did not release me. Instead, the other heads turned to face me, their eyes filled with a twisted, malevolent fury.

"You’ll be one of us," they hissed in unison. "You will join us, become a part of us… a part of this endless, agonizing existence!”

The hands tightened their grip, the fingers digging into my flesh, the nails tearing at my skin. The heads lunged forward, their jaws snapping and biting, their teeth sinking into my arms, my shoulders, my chest.

I screamed and thrashed, fighting with every ounce of strength and determination I possessed. I stabbed the crowbar into another head, and another, and another, the metal tearing through rotting flesh and shattering bone, black ichor jetting all over me.

But the Fleshball was undeterred, its grip unyielding, its hunger insatiable.

The mouths drew closer, jaws snapping inches fro my face, the harsh whispers like stabs to my brain.

“No!”

With a final, desperate surge of strength, I wrenched myself free from the Fleshball’s grasp, the flesh of its hands tearing away in ragged, bloody strips.

I stumbled back, gasping for breath, my body wracked with pain and exhaustion.

The damage I’d done to the creature hadn’t slowed it down any. It kept coming, single minded in its desire to consume every part of me, to make me a part of it.

Behind the creature, I glimpsed the gas pump for a split second as lightning flashed overhead.

And that’s when it hit me.

A way to kill this thing.

It had to burn.

I sprinted around the Fleshball as it lunged for me, darting to the gas pump and grabbing the hose, yanking it out as far as it would go, the metal nozzle clattering against the concrete. Then I began to pump the gas, the acrid fumes filling the air and choking me, stinging my eyes and throat.

The gasoline sprayed out in a wide arc, coating the concrete, the pumps, and the surrounding area in a shimmering, volatile liquid. The smell was overpowering, and I coughed and spluttered, my lungs burning with the toxic fumes.

As the gas pumped out, I kept one eye on the approaching horror. The Fleshball lumbered closer, its multiple heads swaying and writhing, its many arms reaching out, grasping and clawing at the air. It seemed oblivious to my plan, its glowing eyes fixed on me with a hungry, predatory intensity.

“That’s it, motherfucker,” I growled, half choking on the fumes surrounding me. “Keep coming.”

Once I was sure the Fleshball was surrounded by the gas, I turned and sprinted back to the Charger, throwing open the driver's door and diving inside, my hands shaking as I fumbled for the keys. The engine roared to life, and then I slammed the door shut.

Just as I shifted the car into gear, the Fleshball launched itself at the Charger. With a bone-jarring thud, it slammed one of its massive, misshapen hands down onto the trunk, the metal crumpling and groaning under the force of the impact. The car rocked and shuddered, the tires screeching as I hit the accelerator and peeled out, the engine roaring in protest.

I spun the wheel, the Charger's tires squealing as I turned in a wide arc, the headlights sweeping across the gasoline-soaked concrete. As I completed the turn, I reached into my inventory and pulled out my lighter. With a flick of my thumb, the flame sprang to life. I knew what I had to do. I knew the risk, the danger, but I also knew that this was my only chance there was to defeat this monster.

With a final, defiant glance at the Fleshball, I tossed the lighter out the window, the flame arcing through the air like a tiny, incandescent comet. It hit the gasoline-soaked concrete with a soft, almost imperceptible sound, and for a moment, nothing happened.

And then, with a deafening roar, the entire area exploded into flames. The gasoline ignited instantly, a wall of fire that swept across the concrete, engulfing the pumps, the diner, and the Fleshball itself. The creature screamed, a chorus of agonized, tormented voices. Its many heads writhed and twisted, the flesh blackening and charring, the eyes melting and running like wax.

I hit the gas, the Charger's engine roaring as I peeled out, the tires leaving trails of burning rubber on the concrete. Behind me, the inferno raged, a towering, all-consuming blaze that lit up the night sky.

The Fleshball burned, its screams fading into the distance as I sped away, the fireball expanding and exploding, a cataclysmic, apocalyptic sight that seemed to herald the end of the world itself.

“Yeahhh!” I shouted, slamming my fist against the roof of the Charger. “Fuck you! Fuck you!”

Congratulations!

1/3 challenges complete!