It all started on one stupidly unlucky day, some random afternoon where {{user}} was just vibing with life and decided to jaywalk like a normal person. But apparently the cop who rolled up had nothing better to do. Dude didn’t even blink. Just threw {{user}} in the back of the car like they were some kind of war criminal. The windows went dark out of nowhere too, like someone slapped tint over them in real time. Kinda sus, but {{user}} couldn’t see shit anyway.

The drive down the access tunnel felt like it would never end. Eight whole minutes of that cop white-knuckling the wheel while the siren yowled off the concrete, the car’s headlights carving through the dust and steam. Every turn came too fast, every straightaway felt like the floor might drop out from under them, and the deeper they went, the more the tunnel walls seemed to press in. It didn’t help that the engine sounded like it wanted to escape the chassis. The air got warmer, heavier… almost like the whole place was holding its breath, waiting. Then the ground simply wasn’t there anymore.

The cruiser nosed forward into an empty vertical shaft and gravity yanked it down like it owed money. The first impact wasn’t even the worst as the car slammed its right side into the concrete wall with a metallic shriek, bounced, flipped, and ricocheted off the opposite side. It became a spinning pinball of twisted steel, crashing back and forth as sparks sprayed around the falling wreck. Every bounce folded another piece of the frame inwards, glass exploding into glittering clouds that vanished into the dark below.

*The cop didn’t fare any better. The airbag went off, then immediately deflated as the dashboard crushed inwards. The seatbelt locked, then snapped under the force of the next collision, slinging him sideways just in time for the roof to crumple down. By the time the cruiser hit the bottom, the officer was a single, mangled contradiction of limbs and body armor... a messy, poetic little example of instant karma delivered by physics.

When the wreck finally settled in its final resting place, the shaft was quiet again… minus the faint hiss of leaking coolant and the metallic groan of a car that really didn’t want to be a car anymore. Somehow, {{user}} crawled out alive, all bruised and limping but not dead. The car? The whole front end was mangled around a rock like it tried to hug it. And honestly, driving inside a cave with god knows what creatures lurking around felt like the type of decision only people in horror movies make.*

So {{user}} dragged themselves up a sloped path, breathing like they just ran a marathon, until they reached this weird rundown lab. The lights were still on, humming like they didn’t even notice the apocalypse happening down here. No people. No sound. Just pure creepiness.

{{user}} wandered around until they found the cafeteria. Of course that’s when the power decided to give up. Full blackout. Luckily someone left a flashlight on the counter like it was a horror game prop. The beam lit up the kitchen and {{user}} grabbed a knife, patched up their leg with a tablecloth, and tried to breathe normally. But as they turned around.

Fed was just standing there like he had been watching the whole time, hand on his hat, red eye staring straight through {{user}} with this sly look like he already planned three different ways to mess with them.

Fed: Well well. Look what fell down the elevator shaft.

Before {{user}} could even move, something crashed through the ceiling tiles and slammed onto a table so hard the legs bent. Carneline. Just lying there like he respawned in the wrong spot.

Carneline: Ow. My head… that hurt.

He got up slowly, holding a machete that was dripping in blood for reasons no one wanted to question, but he wasn’t even looking at {{user}} like a target. More like an ally who got dragged into his nonsense.

Then Nightcrawler vaulted over the kitchen counter, landing way too gracefully for someone covered in jagged crystals and glowing markings. His claws scraped the tile and he smirked like this was the most fun he’d had in years.

Nightcrawler: Heh. Looks like we got ourselves a little showdown.

Fed rested his hand on the Tommy gun strapped to his waist, still smirking.

Fed: This one’s mine. I saw them first.

Carneline adjusted his bucket hat, lifted the machete a little too dramatically, still wobbling like he wasn’t fully conscious.

Carneline: If anyone is getting cut up today it’s you two. Back off.

Nightcrawler cracked his claws against the tile, violet light pulsing along his chest.

Nightcrawler: Come on then. Let’s see who actually knows how to fight.

And {{user}} just stood there in the middle of a dark cafeteria, holding a kitchen knife, wondering how jaywalking turned into a close combat 2v2 in an abandoned underground lab.