"Wake up, Desmond..."
"...Huh? What's going on...?"
The voice lingered in Desmond’s mind like the echo of a dream, slipping away as he blinked into consciousness. A dull, rattling sound filled the air, metal grinding against metal, and the faint hum of the subway car vibrated through him. Desmond rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the haze, and looked around. Rows of worn seats stretched out on either side, each one empty, cast in the pale, flickering light from above. His pulse quickened as he realized he was alone in a moving train—but he had no memory of boarding it, no clue where it was headed.
"Took you long enough, my dear..." a mysterious voice whispered, soft yet taunting, as if amused by his confusion.
"Who is it?" Desmond’s voice came out shaky, his own uncertainty catching him off guard.
“You don’t know who I am…? I am disappointed, Desmond… I didn’t think you would forget me, your guardian angel so soon…”
Desmond whipped his head around, searching the empty seats and dimly lit aisle, but no one was there. Not a single passenger sat nearby—no faces, no shadows, just rows of vacant seats stretching endlessly down the car. Even the corners of the train seemed to retreat into darkness, offering him nothing, no sign of where the voice had come from or who was speaking to him. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he realized he was utterly alone... yet somehow, he knew he was being watched.
“My guardian angel!? Don’t make me laugh! Where am I?! What’s going on…!?”
Desmond continued walking aimlessly, drawn toward the doors at the end of the subway car, bracing himself against the metal poles as the train lurched slightly. He moved cautiously down the aisle, one hand gripping the cold railing for support while the other brushed against the worn fabric of the crimson seats. The colors surrounding him were disconcertingly limited to shades of red and black; the upholstery, a deep, faded crimson, seemed to absorb the flickering fluorescent light. The grimy black metal walls closed in around him, their surfaces marked with eerie, dark stains that hinted at untold stories. Above, the flickering red bulbs cast an erratic glow, creating shadows that danced along the walls like specters. The interiors of the corridor bore unsettling signs—dark splotches resembling blood splatter, as if the very essence of despair had seeped into the fabric of the train, amplifying the sense of dread that hung in the air.
“But I am your guardian angel, Desmond. It’s truly unfortunate that you don’t remember me. But don’t worry; you’ll soon recall our connection. I won’t hold it against you for long.”
“Whatever… This has to be a dream or something. I just need to wake up!”
Desmond finally reached the last compartment of the subway car, where he found the driver—a figure that seemed to belong to another realm entirely. The driver stood tall and imposing, with a weathered face that bore the weight of countless souls. His skin was a pallid gray, almost as if he had been touched by the shadows of the underworld itself. Draped in a dark, tattered cloak that billowed slightly as the train swayed, he exuded an air of solemnity and authority.
His eyes, dark and penetrating, seemed to peer into Desmond’s very soul, as if measuring the depth of his confusion and fear. Strands of long, unkempt hair framed his face, merging seamlessly with the shadows around him. The flickering lights overhead cast eerie shadows that danced across his features, highlighting the ghostly pallor of his skin.
As the train rumbled onward, the atmosphere grew thick with an unspoken tension. The driver regarded Desmond with a knowing gaze, his lips curling into a ghost of a smile, as if he held secrets of life and death that could change everything.
“Ah, Desmond,” he intoned, his voice a low, resonant whisper that seemed to vibrate through the very fabric of the train, “welcome aboard. Your journey begins here.”
“My journey? To where exactly…?”
“To Hades. Allow me to introduce myself: I am Charon, your friendly subway driver, here to escort you to the underworld. Don’t worry; the service is to die for—pun intended! Just hold on tight; it’s going to be a bumpy ride!”
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“Ha—Hades? Like the game…!?”
“More like Hades from Greek mythology, Desmond…” said his supposed guardian angel, a hint of disappointment in their voice. “It’s a bit sad that your first thought is about a video game instead of the ancient stories.”
“Hey, it’s a fun game!” Desmond replied, shrugging. “What do you want me to say?”
“Just that maybe you should broaden your horizons,” the angel sighed.
“Sure, but at least I know Hades exists!” Desmond shot back.
“Just keep in mind, in the real Hades, there are no respawns,” Charon chimed in, his tone light. “Just a lot of waiting and souls that could really use a vacation!”
The train stopped suddenly, jolting Desmond and nearly causing him to lose his balance.
“Well, we’re at the last stop: Hades. Time to go, Desmond,” Charon announced with an air of finality.
“Huh…?! I’m not going to Hades…” Desmond protested, his voice rising in panic.
“What do you mean you’re not going to Hades?” Charon replied, arching an eyebrow. “All souls go to Hades; that’s just how it is.”
With a theatrical flourish, Charon pulled an ornate scythe from seemingly thin air, its blade gleaming ominously in the dim light of the subway car. He hefted it with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as if the weight of it was an everyday annoyance.
“I didn’t want to do this, you know,” he said, a grin creeping across his face. “But when you’re running late for your shift in Hades, you’ve got to make sure people understand the urgency! Now, do you really want to take that trip, or should we talk about your life choices?”
He waved the scythe around playfully, as if it were just another tool for managing the subway schedule rather than an instrument of doom.
Desmond was terrified, standing on the brink of an unimaginable fate. Just as he felt the cold grip of fear tightening around him, an unfamiliar sensation surged within. He didn’t want to just die.
“I said… I won’t go to Hades! If I end up there, I’ll die, right? I’m not ready for that!” His voice quaked with urgency, desperation threading through each word. “I don’t even know why I want to live or where I am… All I have are these fragmented memories. But still, I cling to life! I refuse to go down without a fight, not when I still have the chance to battle with every ounce of my strength!”
Suddenly, a brilliant spark of light burst forth from Desmond, illuminating the dark subway car. From the radiance emerged a striking figure—a tall, muscular man with wild, long hair that seemed to dance with energy. The strands flowed in every direction, a riot of colors that shifted from vibrant reds to electric blues, resembling a living storm.
“I knew you had it in you, Desmond!” the man exclaimed, his voice booming with a mix of excitement and encouragement. He flashed a broad, mischievous grin, revealing confidence that felt almost contagious. “Don’t you see? You’re not just some lost soul; you’re a force to be reckoned with!”
A pop-up screen flashed into existence, illuminating the chaos around Desmond.
“A new destiny has been awakened.”
Desmond blinked, taken aback. “Who are you?”
“Call me your guardian angel or whatever you like, but today, I’m here to help you kick some serious butt!” He flexed his arms, showing off muscles that were as impressive as his chaotic hair. “Now, let’s show Charon that you’re not going down without a fight!”
“A pact has been forged to rewrite your destiny. May fortune favor you on this treacherous path.”
“My guardian angel, huh? So you’ve been watching over me all this time?”
“You could say that,” the figure replied with a wry smile. “I’ve been here all along.”
Desmond glanced around, confusion clouding his face. “So…where exactly are we? And why can’t I remember anything? My memory feels like…static.”
Before he could get an answer, a sudden swing from Charon’s scythe came crashing toward him. His new ally blocked it, but the force still sent Desmond reeling back.
A red popup flashed before his eyes with a blaring warning:
HP: 82/100
Desmond stared at the red HP window, bewildered. “HP…? Health points? So maybe I am in Hades the game after all!” he muttered to himself, half in disbelief.
His spirit-like ally, wincing slightly from the impact, steadied himself and planted his feet firmly in front of Desmond, ready to shield him from the next attack. Despite the pain, he flashed a grin over his shoulder.
“We’ll talk later—right now, let’s focus on keeping you in one piece!”