When a man cries, is the man in pain? Or is his life no longer worth living? Why do we feel the need to solemnly cry, only when we can no longer wipe our tears.

The man wakes up in an alley, alone in the dark of night. His eyes instinctually scan his surroundings, however he only draws blanks, as this is a new terrain he's never seen. He thinks back to everything he heard from the voice and the glimpse he saw of him through the black gas.

He puts some things together in order to form some idea of what he needs to do. He prepares himself for the hardships he may need to face. His hand reaches for his right subconsciously, confusedly he turns his head to his hand to see it now gripping a magnum revolver. He puts the revolver in his new found holster and finds a knife in his pocket, while also simultaneously putting on the satchel that is laid to his left. He confusedly questions what's happening but ignores it and focuses on his priorities, finding out where he is.

The satchel had 2 rounds for his revolver and some food rations, the man was satisfied with what he had and left the alley. Upon exiting he found himself in a city, although said city was very antique and looked to be a replica from the 60’s. This confused the man but so did everything else and so he pushed on, trying his best to keep his mind from crumbling.

As the man wandered the vintage city he observed and made mental notes of any areas of interest, not daring to explore further than his glance. Once every now and then he’d stop to catch his breath, he unexpectedly ran into a creature that looked to be made of a purely gaseous form but they had a humanoid like structure to them. However when they laid eyes on Solas they opened their unhinged jaws and screamed like children in need of their mothers, crying to be held and protected from the man who had been lurking through the streets. He would occasionally encounter these creatures and so he began to call them phantasms, whether he saw them for just a moment or they followed him for what felt like hours, he couldn't explain what they were, just hollow figments of his imagination he thought. Although he believed they were hallucinations, they plagued him all the same, the man could not keep them away and was clueless as to their purpose.

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The man was in a constant state of thought, his only focus was staying alive, hoping to learn more about his dreadful situation. The man is cut from his thoughts as a tall and lanky figure looms into his sight. The man speaks on the occurrence “what the fuck is that.” he says with a certain exhaustion, the man seems tired already. He readies himself for the encounter hoping to come out of this without a fight.

The shadow figure slowly walks towards the man and raises its hand, befuddling the man. The man on instinct responds in kind by raising his hand and shaking hands with the figure. Suddenly reality begins to warp and twirl as everything becomes unreal for the man and his vision is jumbled with hallucinations of his past, then it passes and the shadowy figure is gone but so is the man's breath. He tries to regain his footing as he processes the events that just took place.

After this he continues his venture into the city, deciding to stay away from the phantasms concluding they aren't to be touched. He stumbles onto a theater with a blank marquee and walks in ready to explore the vintage theater. Only to hear the loud ringing in his ear, the only explanation was the loud crack of a gunshot moments before.