The sun was high, yet something about the day felt... off. Veer leaned against the cracked wall near the apartment gates, wiping sweat from his brow as he squinted at the four strangers standing nearby. Three of them stood stiffly, their eyes blank, lips unmoving. They didn't speak. They didn't blink. They looked almost... undead. The fourth, covered in tattered bandages, revealed only a single, bloodshot left eye. That eye stared straight into Veer's soul.
"Are you guys okay?" Veer asked, hesitantly.
The man with the bandaged face gave a slow nod. "Hungry," he rasped.
Veer ran up to his apartment briefly, grabbed two leftover burgers and a half-eaten pizza, and handed the food to them. The bandaged man gave a slight bow. The others didn't react. Not a single sound. Not even a crunch or a sigh. Veer's spine tingled. "Weird," he muttered, and walked back into the building.
Pets weren't allowed in the upper floors of the apartment, so Veer's dog stayed on the ground floor in a kennel near the parking lot. As he passed by, he spotted his furry friend wagging its tail excitedly. He knelt down to pet him, whispering, "I'll bring you chicken next time, buddy."
And then he heard it.
"I love you."
The voice was faint, soft, familiar.
Veer looked around, confused. No one was there. His heart skipped. "Love you too," he replied absentmindedly and walked away, brushing off the moment like a stray thought.
Back in his room, he flopped on his bed, eyes shut. But sleep wouldn't come. The silence outside gnawed at his ears. Something didn't feel right. He pushed himself up and wandered to the balcony.
Down on the street, the same bandaged man stood, waving.
"What the...?" Veer waved back out of politeness.
The man gestured with his fingers: Come down.
With a shrug, Veer muttered, "Couldn't sleep anyway," and got dressed.
As he opened his door, his 22-year-old neighbor was outside, struggling between a red and a pink dress.
Veer, hearing her thoughts — though he didn't know he was — blurted, "Pink one looks better."
She stared at him, shocked. "Wha— how did you...?"
Veer was already heading down. "Just a lucky guess!" he called over his shoulder.
She stood frozen, pink dress clutched in her hand, heart racing.
Outside, Veer waved at his dog again and followed the bandaged man to the corner of the street. "Why did you call me down?"
"There are people who need your help," the man said flatly. "They help. You help."
"…Okay," Veer mumbled, thinking, hope it doesn't take long.
They turned the corner and saw a crowd gathered around an old woman who had been hit by a motorbike. She lay bleeding, groaning, and yet no one helped — just judgmental stares and whispers.
Veer's blood boiled. He called a nearby cab, lifted the woman carefully, and ordered the driver to rush to the hospital.
On the way, the taxi stopped suddenly. Up ahead, a group of armed men with axes and hammers surrounded a trembling man and two young girls. Veer jumped out.
The father pleaded, "They followed us from our homeland... we fled here, but they found us. No one will help. The police won't intervene."
Veer spotted a thick iron rod discarded near a broken street pole. Without hesitation, he gripped it tight and charged.
The attackers shouted in a foreign language, but that didn't stop him. Using quick defensive maneuvers he'd learned over the years, Veer swung the rod with precision. A few men went down; the rest fled.
The man fell to his knees, tears in his eyes. "Thank you... thank you..."
Veer nodded, already jogging back toward the hospital. But halfway there, the bandaged man appeared again, this time without a word — only pointing to a building engulfed in flames.
Screams echoed from within. Veer's heart sank.
"You can still save some," the man whispered.
Veer ran. No fire trucks. No sirens. Just chaos.
He slipped into a broken window and found a little girl crying under a desk. Flames licked the walls around her. Just feet away, her parents screamed, their skin bubbling, their limbs searing. He couldn't save them.
"I'll save you," he whispered, scooping the girl in his arms and bolting out.
As soon as he stepped outside, an explosion erupted, and the building crumbled behind him. Smoke filled the sky. Sirens finally began to wail in the distance.
He got the girl to the hospital and sat silently, blood on his shirt, watching the sun disappear behind buildings.
Back at his apartment, Veer waved weakly at his dog, now unusually still. On his way up, a voice stopped him.
"Veer."
He turned.
A man stood there. Same build, same eye — but no bandages. His face was pale, gaunt, and horrifyingly calm.
"Good job," the man said. "You passed the test."
"Test?" Veer frowned.
"But this is only the beginning."
With a flick of his finger, a knight-like figure appeared in shimmering armor. Veer's breath caught.
"Papa?"
The man in armor looked terrified before vanishing along with the bandaged stranger.
Veer's knees buckled. What the hell is happening?
Suddenly, a growl echoed from below.
His dog.
Veer rushed down. The kennel was rattling violently. He called his pet's name.
The dog turned slowly.
Its face was melting. Veins pulsated, eyes bulging unnaturally.
Veer stumbled back. His heel hit something hard.
The iron rod.
The same one from earlier.
Shaking, he grabbed it. Tears blurred his vision.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, then fought.
The battle was short and brutal. The dog lay still. Veer dropped the rod, fell to his knees, and sobbed.
"What is happening to me...?"
He dragged himself upstairs, collapsed on his bed, whispering:
"Papa... where are you?"
Outside, the wind howled.
And somewhere, far away, something — or someone — was watching.
The game had only just begun.
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