At the end of his day's work, Will underwent the usual search before clocking off.
A scanner swept him from head to toe. His toolkit was opened and inspected, every tool checked against its registered number.
The security officer waved him through. He nodded, passed the checkpoint, and returned to the dormitory area along a corridor he had walked countless times.
But he could feel it. Someone was following him.
There were no footsteps, no breathing. It was not any tangible signal his senses could detect.
Something more primal, an alertness etched into his genes, told him that a pair of eyes was watching him from within his own shadow.
That gaze was cold and steady, like the tip of a scalpel resting lightly against the skin at the back of his neck.
He did not look back, speed up, or do anything out of the ordinary.
He maintained his usual pace, his usual posture, even the same rhythm of faint coughing. Forcing himself to stay calm, he walked step by step down a corridor that seemed several times longer than usual.
At last, he reached his dormitory door. He took out his key, slipped it into the lock, and turned it.
The lock clicked softly. He pushed the door open and was about to step inside—
An enormous hand reached from behind and silently clamped over his mouth and nose.
Its strength was as irresistible as a hydraulic press. Before he could even struggle, his vision went black, and his consciousness vanished like a snuffed candle.
When he opened his eyes again, a dull ache throbbed at the back of his head, and his mouth tasted of blood, metallic as rust.
His vision remained blurred for a few seconds before gradually coming into focus.
He found himself bound to