A pair of large hands shoved Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun from behind, forcing him forward. At the same time, the carriage door closed behind him with a dull metallic clang, cutting him off from the bustle of the platform.
For an instant, the world seemed to narrow until all that remained was this moving space filled with the smells of leather, coal dust, and faint tobacco smoke.
Dressed in a coarse linen robe, Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun stood rooted to the spot, dazed. All around him, players shouted, protested, and cursed.
"Motherfuckers, what the hell are you doing?"
"Is there any law left? Any justice? This is kidnapping..."
"Fuck this shitty game! I quit! Fuck your mothers..."
"Yeah! We quit! We quit!!!"
It took a while before Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun came to his senses. He drew a deep breath of the foul air and looked around the overcrowded carriage.
There were no seats at all. Everyone who had been crammed inside, just like him, was packed together like sardines, their faces showing confusion, anger, or despair.
He immediately realized that staying on his feet would only get him crushed. His gaze quickly settled on a relatively empty corner near the connection between carriages.
Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun struggled through the crowd and edged over, barely managing to claim a spot where he could lean against the cold carriage wall and sit with his legs tucked up.
Only once his body had somewhere to settle did he finally have a moment to sort through his tangled thoughts.
With his back against the faintly vibrating wall, he tried to trace everything back to its beginning.
His memories were fragmented. As far as Not Playing If I'm Not Having Fun