Blood oozed out of the woman’s arm, at least where her arm should’ve been. Lying around her were the mangled bodies of her friends. Her comrades, the people she had suffered alongside. Enduring the suffering of a lifetime, suffering all for the sake of survival. Their lives snuffed out, like it was all pointless.

  Their bodies desecrated, their limbs cut and torn, thrown away and discarded as if they were toys. She turned her neck as best as she could to see her best friend lying next to her. Looking back at her were only the remains of the person she once knew. Her eye sockets empty, ripped out, leaving nothing but empty, dark voids. Her face etched with nothing more than pure agony, her mouth still agape from her screams of mercy.

  The woman closed her eyes, trying to forget the horrors she had witnessed. She always thought if she were to die, it would be at the hands of an alien.

  How she wished that was the case.

  Killed by their own friend. Betrayed by someone they trusted. How did she not know what she allowed into their group? But how was she to know a murderer stood among them, laughing and smiling as if he was one of them? Her eyes shifted to him, seeing his cold, lifeless gaze with that damn smirk. Only a bitter sense of resignation washed over her. All the pain, the grief, all of it died along with her friends.

  The need for answers still gnawed at her from the inside, though. She couldn’t die without knowing. Without knowing why. Ignoring the pain, she pushed out a semblance of a question, coming out more like desperate gasps of air.

  “Why…did you do it, Ciro? Why did you…kill us all?”

  The man’s smile only grew upon the question. He cackled, the laugh reverberating across their small base. As his laughter slowly faded, his face removed any shred of emotion. He stared back at her, his eyes as empty as the dead body next to her.

  He brought his face closer to her, so close they could have kissed, yet the woman felt as if she was staring at a statue. Devoid of any life, an empty husk, from which the grim reaper had taken his soul.

  “Because I wanted to…” He whispered, as he plunged a knife into her neck, twisting it with his wrist, then coiling the knife with his fingertips.

  The woman’s vision swam with darkness. The man plucked the knife out of her neck, along with her last breaths. Admiring the masterpiece he had created, the man left through the door.

  Now alone, the woman grazed her neck with the only arm she had left. Seeing the thick flow of blood drip down her fingers, she smiled.

  Would You Like To Activate “Phoenix Rebirth”

  Expires in 10 seconds

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  The woman looked towards her friends one last time, ignoring the message that hovered in front of her. She closed her eyes.

  “I'll avenge you guys. He won’t get away with this.”

  Warning

  [Phoenix Rebirth] Is About To Expire

  3 Seconds Remaining]

  Lifting her hand up, her index finger made contact with the screen in front of her.

  [Phoenix Rebirth] Activation Confirmed

  Commencing Regression in

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  “I'm going to kill you Ciro.”

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  [Phoenix Rebirth] Successful

  ***

  RING RING

  Ciro Adams awoke to his familiar ceiling, marred by mold and decay. His hand shot out from under his tattered blanket and smashed his alarm off that lay on his bedside table. He groaned as a sharp migraine hammered at his temples. It was roughly 6 AM, and he had to get ready for work.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have stayed up late drinking so heavily, but what else was he to do during the weekends? He slowly got out of bed, his cold feet knocking over the multiple bottles of liquor he had drank over the two days.

  He swayed and tumbled over the dirty floor, eventually tripping over one of the larger empty bottles of rum. His body landed face first on the ground. Ciro was getting sick of this monotonous routine, going exactly the same way. He pushed himself up, using the flimsy walls for support, his palm resting on a patch of dampness. He made his way to his small bathroom. The smell of mildew mixed with stale alcohol grew stronger with each passing step.

  A low growl emerged in front of Ciro. With an unmistakable look of judgment laid a scruffy, wiry Jack Russell Terrier named Jack, chewing on what seemed to be Ciro’s work shoe. “Give it a rest, will you?” Ciro poured a half-empty bag of kibble into the dog’s bowl. Jack sniffed it with suspicion, probably checking if it was stale again. They both exchanged a last glance of disgust with each other before Ciro glanced at the clock. “Ah… shit.”

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  He cursed under his breath as he eventually stumbled into the bathroom, where he fumbled to turn on the lights. After a few tries, the light flickered on, settling for a dim yellow glow. With his other hand, he rubbed his temple, attempting to soothe his ongoing headache. Ciro moved to the sink, opening the sole tap. Water slowly seeped through.

  He washed his face with the ice cold water, running his hands through his hair. The cold shocked him awake, but did very little to ease the pounding in his skull. He squinted at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The glass had a large crack centered off to the right, making it almost impossible to make out anything. Ciro couldn’t remember how it happened, probably from one of his weekends being drunk.

  Yet he could still just about make out some of his features, his olive skin to his patchy stubble. Most striking were his bloodshot eyes that stared back at him in pity. He had seen those eyes before, but not in himself. Frustrated, he ran more water out of the tap. Nothing crazy happened overnight that could get him off work.

  He considered brushing his teeth, but decided against it. He hadn’t showered in weeks. Why bother taking care of his teeth? It’s not like he had anyone to talk to, anyway. He shuffled back to his room, pulling on a wrinkled shirt and a pair of pants that had seen better days. His tie hung loosely around his neck. He didn’t bother to tighten it as he grabbed his coat from a chair piled high with clothes.

  As he edged closer to his door to leave for work, his stomach rumbled. He turned to look at his small kitchen, dozens of plates still unwashed, stacked on top of each other, and the counter littered with empty instant noodle cups. Although hungry, the thought of eating made him sick.

  At that, the doorbell rang. Ciro stood dazed, trying to remember if he had ordered anything, but nothing came to mind. Two bags of old take away food sat at the door. The smell was revolting, but blended in comfortably with the aroma of his home. The knocks came again, interrupting his foggy thoughts.

  Ciro cracked open the door, the harsh hallway light forcing a squint. “Uh, delivery for… Mr. Adams?” The man was young with a friendly yet tired look. With a sigh, Ciro took the parcel and closed the door without a word, chucking it onto his sofa, causing a cloud of dust to hover.

  He forced himself out the door, hands in pockets and his head down to avoid any unwanted attention from his neighbors. The delivery man was gone already. The hallway smelt faintly of bleach, but had nothing on the putrid smell of alcohol lingering in his clothes. Out on the streets, his half-closed eyes fought the morning light. Everything was too loud, car horns, buses screeching to a stop, every irritating sound cut through his pounding headache.

  Approaching the subway, the crowd of people thickened. Each person in their clean, ironed clothes with shining, polished shoes walked with purpose. Some distanced themselves from Ciro, wrinkling their noses. Ciro glimpsed himself in a store window, that same look of pity painted on his face.

  The subway’s air felt stale and damp. It was almost comforting for Ciro. A mother subtly pulled her child closer to her as they passed him. He leaned against the grimy wall, staring at his scuffed shoes, his fingers picking at a small hole in his trouser leg. He could feel every inch of space between him and the people avoiding him, but he remained emotionless. Only the cravings of a drink crossed his mind.

  Work got no easier. He pushed through the revolving door with a grunt, the security guard politely nodding at him but struggling to conceal his distaste. It was a relief to make it to his desk. He took a deep breath, shielding his eyes from the condescending and judging looks of his coworkers.

  After a grueling shift at his desk, tabulating meaningless drivel for a meaningless corporate conglomerate, he trudged out of the office. His head felt heavy, causing a painful strain on his neck. The streets were quiet, the dim street light flickered, Ciro felt uneasy, like an eerie presence lingered. His eyes were unfocused, dazed and only half-present. The world was like a mere muffle, until he felt an usual sensation, a prickle on the back of his neck. He felt irritated and tried to ignore it with a rough scratch on his fingers.

  Ciro halted. A faint hum rang deeply in his head, a low, chilling vibration in his core gradually intensified. His eyes darted round the street as his aching body swiveled frantically. He didn’t know why he was running, but his body took control as he darted around the corner, his legs screaming to keep going - some primal instinct telling him to flee whatever weird sensations he was feeling. His foot caught an uneven paving stone that sent him to the ground. His vision blurred as he scrambled to his feet, holding himself up against a lamppost.

  A high-pitched tone seemed to grow stronger, reverberating inside his skull. He squinted up at the sky, a faint, bright light taking a shape unbeknown to anything he had ever seen before. Reality felt distorted. Ciro aggressively rubbed his eyes before looking back up. Then everything around him froze, his body, his thoughts. The world itself paused.

  Enveloped in a blue light, Ciro felt like every cell in his body was being tugged at viciously. Before he could react, his body ascended. Ciro tried to scream, but couldn’t make a sound. His voice trapped within him. Every ounce of his being tried to fight the unearthly force, dragging him away from the street until his body felt numb. He was alone, trapped in a void, alone and surrounded in an unknown darkness.

  He watched helplessly as he continued to float upwards. He flailed as best as he could, but it felt as though hundreds of limbs held him in place, trapped for eternity. A cold sensation washed over his body as thousands of lights stretched over his vision.

  Stars.

  Ciro found himself on the edge of the Earth’s atmosphere with only a blue beam of energy protecting him from the expanse of space. Just as he felt the pull of the world fade entirely, his body changed. Every section of his body, from his limbs to his chest, his very essence seemed to dissolve into shimmering particles, each piece of his being scattered like dust into the void. He tried to hold on, but there was nothing to grasp. No arms, no legs. No heartbeat.

  Only his conscience remained.

  So this is how I die, huh. His feeling of resignation was cut short as the particles began funneling themselves, moving like a school of fish. Damn it, I didn’t sign up for this. Ciro screamed inwardly as he watched the pieces of his body direct itself to the unknown. He didn’t see it, but he felt it. It was as if he was watching himself from the third person, watching the particles move, as if directed by an invisible hand.

  After what felt like eons, something pulled the particles back together, each piece reconnecting like a jigsaw puzzle. His form returned, his flesh solidified, his senses reawakened.

  He opened his eyes, or what he perceived as such, squinting under the bright lights. The surrounding room was sleek and sterile, illuminated by a pale blue glow. He tried to force his body up to no avail. Ciro couldn’t help but find that odd. He pushed with even more effort. This time he lifted his torso back only slightly, before his body snapped back to whatever he was strapped to.

  He heard rustling around him, his full senses came rushing back to him. He wasn’t alone. Ciro’s heart hammered against his chest as he pushed his irises to the corner to see what lay before him. He heard the groans of a machine moving towards him. The metallic clanks of footsteps echoed, causing his body to tremor under the force.

  Shit, I’ve been kidnapped by fucking robots. What the hell are they gonna do to me?

  The robot, which seemed shaped like a human, bent down to look at Ciro more closely. Ciro’s eyes widened with fear. Mounted on top of the robot was a glass lid. Within the lid, lay what seemed to be a grotesque fleshy brain, but that was no organ. No.

  It was alive.

  The brain fashioned itself with a pair of yellow eyes that gleamed at him with keen interest. Writhing tentacles that clutched at small levers from within the lid, more than likely controlling the robot. The pulsating veins, visible through its translucent skin, would have made Ciro vomit if he hadn’t been terrified.

  He was mistaken. That was no robot. Aliens had kidnapped him.

  Well, I guess it’s about time I died. I hope my shitty liver gives it indigestion.

  Ciro’s eyes never left the brain-like alien, though. The brain’s eyes stared back at him. He could’ve sworn it was smiling, given the way its eyes glimmered with purpose - but it had no mouth he could read. Then without a sound it straightened its mechanical body and walked away, the clanks of its footsteps growing fainter as it disappeared.

  Before Ciro could even let out a sigh of relief, from the corner of the room, more figures emerged, identical to the first. With precision, they moved their tentacles, dancing over levers to lift his strapped-down table.

  “Wait no, Don’t! I want to live, dammit.” Ciro screamed, his feelings of self destruction that were built over years of neglect, washed away by an unrestrained desire to live. Desire, he had long forgotten.

  But the clanks of the robots drowned out any of the noise he made. One alien pressed a clawed appendage to a panel on the side of the table. The surface beneath Ciro shifted, tilting slightly as hidden wheels rolled. He struggled, muscles straining against invisible restraints, but it was useless. His body refused to obey him.

  He screamed as much as he could muster, but to no avail. Something cold and metallic pressed against his neck. It felt as though electricity rampaged through his body. It only lasted for a second until the room spun and his mind drifted into darkness.

  When he stirred awake, icy chills whipped at his naked body. His eyelids fluttered, but he couldn’t open them. When he tried to breathe, his lungs felt heavy, yet calm, as if the concept of breathing no longer existed. He wasn’t on that table either. Ciro felt submerged in something cold and viscous, like oil but freezing.

  Beyond the veil of unconsciousness, he became dimly aware of the alien figures outside his frozen prison. With deliberate movements, they secured the pod, encasing him. He felt himself being lifted, carried away.

  They placed his pod among hundreds of others, creating a library of species suspended in ice. The last thing he heard, or perhaps imagined, was the faint, rhythmic pulsing of that grotesque alien brain, its eyes ever watchful, as the door to the room slowly shut.

  Never to be seen again.