In the year 2100, the world experienced an apocalyptic phenomenon that fundamentally altered the nature of reality. This event, unlike any other in recorded history, involved a sudden and inexplicable shift in the fabric of existence, tearing a rift between the familiar world and an unknown dimension. Individuals between the ages of 18 and 39 were involuntarily transported to this alternate dimension, where they were compelled to prove their capacity for survival under conditions that defied conventional understanding. This interdimensional displacement was not a random occurrence; it was a trial, a test of endurance and adaptability, designed to push the boundaries of human potential. Those who perished in this dimension did not return, their lives seemingly extinguished from all planes of existence, whereas those who survived were profoundly changed, returning with abilities that many could only imagine possessing—abilities that transcended the limitations of ordinary human capabilities.
[2110]
"Come on, Remy. This is your last chance," he said to himself, standing in the rain at night in front of a well-lit establishment. The rain, a relentless curtain of water, mirrored the gravity of the decision he faced. The neon lights of the establishment, a stark contrast to the darkness, flickered with an urgency that matched his internal turmoil. "You have less than 30 minutes remaining, which should be more than sufficient to complete the task." His words hung in the air, heavy with a sense of finality, a recognition that the clock was ticking not just on this particular endeavor, but perhaps on something far greater.
The empty streets, slick with rain, were illuminated by the red, flickering neon lights, their reflections shimmering in the rain-filled puddles. The distorted images created an unsettling atmosphere, as if the very environment was in flux, mirroring the uncertainty of Remy's situation. Drenched by the rain, his heavy leather boots disturbed the establishment's reflection in the puddles as he advanced, each step deliberate and weighted with the gravity of his purpose. The flickering red sign, an emblem of illicit allure, depicted the outline of a provocatively dressed woman, her legs positioned in an open, then closed, stance. This crude symbol, pulsating with a carnal energy, served as a stark reminder of the base desires and desperate measures that characterized this world.
Remy's boots made contact with the doormat, and he proceeded across the building's threshold. The interior, in contrast to the gritty exterior, appeared surprisingly well-maintained. Polished surfaces gleamed under soft lighting, and the air carried a subtle fragrance that hinted at a hidden opulence. This unexpected refinement, however, only added to the unsettling nature of the place, its incongruity suggesting a facade of respectability masking a more sordid reality. This establishment was, after all, located in a district with a dubious reputation within the sprawling metropolis of the Climbing City.
"Welcome!" the old woman behind the counter announced, her voice raspy yet welcoming. Her gaze, sharp and knowing, seemed to penetrate Remy's carefully constructed facade of composure.
Remy approached her cautiously, his eyes scanning the lobby as he attempted to conceal his agitation. He took in the details of his surroundings: the ornate furnishings, the subtle security measures, and the other patrons who moved with an air of practiced nonchalance.
"How may I assist you, sir? Here at Geraldin's, we offer some of the finest women in the city," she stated, sliding a laminated document toward him. Her tone was professional yet suggestive, her words carrying the weight of countless similar encounters.
The document detailed the price of each room for the night and presented a selection of three attractive women available to provide company. Each woman was described in alluring terms, her attributes cataloged like merchandise.
Man, it's a good thing I used all my savings for this, Remy thought, his eyes widening slightly as he scanned the figures. Although I'm running low, this is better than a last meal. I gotta do this, I don't wanna die a virgin. The thought was both a confession and a justification, a glimpse into the desperation and loneliness that had driven him to this point.
"I will take the suite," Remy responded, returning the document to her with an expression of confidence that belied his nervousness. His voice, though steady, carried a hint of vulnerability, a subtle plea for understanding in this transaction of flesh and fleeting intimacy.
"The cost will be 8,000 units. Would you also like company for the night?" the old woman inquired, a slight smile on her face as if anticipating his response. Her smile, a complex mixture of pity and amusement, suggested that she had witnessed this scenario countless times before.
Her inquiry surprised Remy, given that this was his first experience in such an establishment. He hesitated for a moment, his carefully constructed composure threatening to crumble.
What should I say? he pondered, his thoughts racing. I didn't even check out the chicks. Should I just say a random name? Wait, Geraldine? That's the name of this place, duh! And what if that's her name? Do I want to spend my final moments with some old lady? The internal debate raged within him, a whirlwind of anxiety and self-doubt.
"Surprise me," Remy replied, taking the key from the old woman and proceeding toward the elevator. The words were a gamble, a surrender to the unknown, laden with a mixture of trepidation and a flicker of hope.
Smooth, real smooth. he thought wryly, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation even as he navigated it.
Alone in the elevator, he selected the 13th floor and waited. The ascent was slow and deliberate, each passing moment amplifying his anticipation and dread. Remy began to contemplate his employment as a dishwasher, and whether the restaurant would miss him, or even notice his absence upon discovering that he would not be returning. He wondered if his coworkers would even register that he was gone, or if he would simply become another forgotten face in the endless churn of the city. Will his landlord continue to charge rent for another month, despite being unaware that his apartment will be unoccupied as of tomorrow? This mundane concern, a stark contrast to the extraordinary circumstances he will face, underscored the surreal nature of his existence.
The elevator doors opened to reveal an empty hallway. The silence was palpable, broken only by the hum of the elevator and the distant murmur of the city. At the end of the hallway was the room Remy had rented for the night. The room was unremarkable, despite its designation as the suite. It was functional rather than luxurious, designed to serve a specific purpose. The bed, the room's centerpiece, was heart-shaped and adorned with red and pink linens. On the sheets, there was a collection of condoms, lubricant, soap, and shampoo, along with two fresh towels and a large mirror positioned on the ceiling above the bed. The mirror, a silent observer, reflected the room's artificial intimacy, its polished surface promising a distorted and fleeting connection.
Remy removed his coat and placed it aside as he approached the glass window overlooking the district. The view was a panorama of urban decay and technological ambition. Immense structures extended from below, a chaotic jumble of metal and concrete that seemed to defy gravity. These towering edifices were lined with houses and buildings, stacked haphazardly upon one another, and connected by elevated walkways, skyways, and bridges that crisscrossed the urban canyons. The city stretched out before him, a labyrinthine landscape that was both awe-inspiring and deeply unsettling. Observing the origin of these structures was futile, as it was obscured by other structures, bridges, or the flickering lights in the darkness. The city's underbelly remained a mystery, a realm of shadows and secrets that mirrored the hidden aspects of Remy's own journey.
He looked at his watch, and a sense of foreboding enveloped him, a cold certainty that settled deep within his bones. The digital numbers glowed with an ominous intensity, counting down the minutes to his unknown fate. This is it, he thought, his mind racing to comprehend the enormity of what he was about to experience. I'm about to lose my virginity and probably die in some weird dimension, maybe the same one as my parents. Talk about awkward. The thought was a morbid jest, a gallows humor that masked the profound sense of loss and longing that haunted him.
Remy was eight years old when the 'Ceremony' occurred. The memory was vivid, etched into his consciousness. His parents, vibrant and full of life, were both transported away and never returned. They vanished without a trace, leaving behind a void that could never be filled. Those who did return, forever changed by their experiences, reported being presented with a scenario in which they had to prove themselves. These scenarios whispered about in hushed tones, were a test of character, trials by fire that stripped away the veneer of civilization and revealed the raw essence of the human spirit. Subsequently, every person worldwide, upon reaching the age of 18, would also be transported away, and this gradual process became an established part of life, a grim rite of passage into adulthood. Upon questioning those who returned and were successful in the ceremony, it was determined that there were 11 possible scenarios, although the specific scenario for each individual could not be predicted, adding an element of chance and uncertainty to an already terrifying ordeal.
These scenarios were closely guarded by the government. The details were shrouded in secrecy, fueling speculation and paranoia among the populace. Some speculated that this secrecy was to limit the emergence of gifted individuals, fearing the potential disruption to the established social order. Others believed it was to monopolize power for political gain, allowing the ruling elite to control and exploit those who returned with enhanced abilities. Naturally, those with affluence and influence could arrange for special preparation for the ceremony, leveraging their resources to gain an advantage in this deadly lottery. However, as an orphan, Remy had to rely on the limited information he could gather from interviews with his coworkers and their relatives who had undergone the ceremony. These fragmented accounts, often contradictory and incomplete, painted a disturbing picture of a world where survival was a prize and death a common occurrence.
"Where is she?" Remy inquired, his voice barely above a whisper. He picked up the tablet on the bedside table and contacted the lobby. The screen illuminated, displaying an image of the old woman from the lobby in a suggestive pose. The image, garish and artificial, seemed to mock his desperation. I should not have made that call, he thought, a wave of regret washing over him.
"Yes? How may I assist you?" the old woman asked through the screen, her tone businesslike and impersonal.
"Hello, where is the woman who is assigned to this room?" Remy asked, his voice betraying his mounting anxiety.
"She will be there momentarily, sir. There is no cause for concern," she replied, her words clipped and dismissive, and ended the call. The abrupt termination of the communication left Remy feeling even more isolated and alone.
Remy checked his watch and prepared himself. Fuck. A release of nervous energy, a futile attempt to steel himself for the unknown.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. The sound, sharp and insistent, sent a jolt of adrenaline through his system. He quickly opened the door, revealing his eagerness. Standing before him was an attractive woman with short black hair and pale white skin. Her beauty was striking, an ethereal quality that seemed out of place in this seedy establishment. She entered the room, placed her handbag on the bed, and turned to face Remy, who was still holding the door open, his heart pounding in his chest.
"Okay, let's get this show on the road," she said, gesturing for him to close the door. Her voice was cool and professional, yet there was a hint of something else beneath the surface, a flicker of curiosity or perhaps even empathy. "I'm Emma, by the way. And you are?"
Remy moved closer to the bed after closing the door. The room seemed to shrink, the air thick with unspoken tension. "Just call me Remy," he responded, displaying nervousness. He shifted uncomfortably, aware of his awkwardness in the presence of this poised and self-assured woman.
"Okay. Now, listen, Remy, I'm not into anything too rough," she stated, her tone leaving no room for misunderstanding, as she began to remove her top. The gesture was both casual and commanding, a clear assertion of her boundaries. "Like, if you've got whips or a gag ball, I'm outta here." Before she could complete her statement, she was already in her black underwear. Her physique is visible in the light of the room. She possessed the figure of a supermodel, a flawless symmetry of curves and lines that seemed almost unreal.
Awooogha! Remy's internal exclamation was a crude expression of his astonishment and arousal, a momentary lapse into the base desires that had driven him here.
"So, wanna hop in the shower first, or what?" she asked, her voice regaining its earlier professional composure.
"Yes, I will shower first," Remy replied, walking composedly toward the bathroom door. He needed a moment to collect himself, process the unexpected turn of events, and prepare for the encounter that lay ahead.
Damn, she's something else, he reflected as he gazed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The man staring back at him was a stranger, a nervous and uncertain figure on the brink of a life-altering experience. This is what I blew all my cash on tonight. Gotta, make it count. The thought was a silent vow, a commitment to make this encounter meaningful, to transcend the transactional nature of the setting, and to forge a genuine connection, however fleeting.
The sound of his watch signaled, its display flashing red. It was Remy's alarm, a prearranged reminder of the impending Ceremony. He quickly turned to reach for the door handle, but his vision blurred into a mix of black and blue as his surroundings seemed to dissolve. The room twisted and contorted, the laws of physics bending to some unknown force. Stars and lights streaked past him, a chaotic explosion of color and energy, and sound diminished until only his heartbeat was audible in the vastness of space. The transition was abrupt and disorienting, a violent departure from the familiar world. Then, a sharp pain struck Remy's face. It was cold and unyielding like being slammed against a solid surface. He found himself on the floor, face down, bound to a chair. His limbs were restrained, his body immobile, and a gag silenced his cries.
"I believed I instructed you never to appear in my daughter's presence again, and yet here you are," said the voice, a low and menacing growl that resonated with power and authority. The words were laced with a cold fury, a possessive rage that brooked no disobedience. The sound of a gun being readied. "Do you have a death wish?"