Michael took a step past the doorway – he entered the concrete grid of corridors. His footsteps echoed along them, which failed to make him any less nervous. Michael decided to keep moving forward in order to minimize his chances of getting lost. Soon he arrived at the first crossroads with lighting – four vertical lamps were embedded in the concrete, one in each corner, with several electric wires hanging here and there. In general, the construction seemed very shady and careless. Michael rubbed his forehead and looked in all four directions – he saw nothing but more lights and the doorway. He couldn't even see the opposite walls, as the corridors continued beyond his sight. Michael assumed that the grid was massive, so he needed to mind his position. He kept walking through silence, wondering what he was supposed to do.

Michael passed four crossroads while staring at the dark emptiness above him – it made no sense at all, since he was (at least should have been) in the bar's basement. Eventually he started getting more and more disturbed – something was wrong (in addition to his illogical surroundings). He stopped in the ninth crossroads and looked around, but saw nothing – yet he noticed a difference: one of the corridors contained less lights than usually. He gazed at this puzzling phenomenon, trying to figure out the reason for it – then, without warning, rest of the lights turned back on. Michael stepped backwards, realizing what he just saw: something had blocked the view, and then moved away without making a sound.

Michael froze in place and listened carefully – yet it was quiet as ever. He continued walking, until finally reaching the opposite wall. There was a small wooden door in the middle of it, with another two corridors on its both sides. The door was locked by a rusty padlock (of course it was). Michael wondered if he could just break it, when he spotted a piece of paper taped on the wall. There was a picture drawn on it – it was a crude depiction of a square divided into smaller squares with vertical and horizontal lines. A dot was coloured in the middle of the large square's upper side. In addition, three symbols resembling letter x were written on the dividing lines.

Michael realized he was looking at a map of the corridor grid. He inspected the padlock closer, noticing that it had three narrow shackles instead of just one – so presumably it required three different keys. Michael sighed and started visualizing his situation: if the x-markings symbolized keys, they weren't too far away from the door – assuming the black dot was Michael's current position. He started following the wall until reaching the third crossroads. From there, he continued south (in terms of the map), until arriving at the first x. It was a seemingly random spot right next to another crossroads. Michael looked around until noticing a rusty piece of metal on the floor – a small key. He picked it up and proceeded towards the second x, while listening to his soundless environment.

Second key was close to the opposing wall – once again it was just thrown on the floor. Michael rubbed his neck, wondering why the door was so heavily locked. He was already tired of walking, but complaining didn't help: last key was a bit further away, so he let out some quiet curses and kept moving. Every now and then he would turn around, due to a paranoid feeling of being not alone. Still, there was never anything behind him. Michael passed several crossroads; his hands were getting cold.

Michael yawned nervously – then, a distant sound emerged. Michael froze in place while still sensing the dying echo. It was blunt and metallic; like steel hitting against concrete. A minute passed, but Michael could hear nothing anymore – he took careful steps forward. Then, another sound – violent and loud, windy noise. It travelled along the corridors, cramming itself in all directions. Michael fell on his knees, looking frantically around. Soon the blowing noise ran out of energy, leaving Michael in horrified shock – he had no idea what he had just heard, yet it did motivate him: Michael decided to walk notably faster. He kept the gun ready, yet started doubting his chances of defending himself.

Michael picked up the third key, and set towards the locked door. He turned around, noticing how a corridor's lights flickered – something ran along a parallel hallway, and once again without making any sound. Michael shivered and begun striding, while trying to move as quietly as possible. He followed the wall, so that whatever was moving in the grid couldn't surprise him from behind. Then, another metallic sound – closer than last time. Michael stopped in a crossroads, trying to think: would he have time to open the lock? He stared at one of the corridors, realizing that (once again) most of its lights were gone. In front of them was a black silhouette – a tall figure with curved edges. About 10 long seconds passed, until the figure twitched – suddenly, it leaped sideways, disappearing in the grid.

Michael started running, realizing he was being hunted. He returned to the door and crammed the first key inside the lock; one shackle opened. Then another key; another shackle done – more metallic sounds emerged. Third key, and the lock dropped on the floor. Michael pulled the door open, expecting to get attacked at the very last moment – yet nothing happened. He stepped inside and closed the door, thus entering complete darkness.

Michael was standing at the top of a very narrow staircase. He descended carefully, yet he did experience a sense of relief: maybe he could get out of the grid this way. Eventually he arrived at the bottom of the stairs – there was nothing else there but a small cubical room. However, it wasn't completely empty: a blue garment was lying on the floor, covering something. Michael approached this unknown object, while a sweet, weirdly enjoyable smell hit him – a pleasant, almost mesmerizing scent. Sharp contrast was provided when Michael moved the garment: it covered a dead body. Michael stared at the pale, white leg sticking under the blue velvet, assuming it belonged to a woman.

Michael looked around, noticing a picture drawn on the back wall. It seemed to present some kind of humanoid with wings – as if watching over the dead woman. Michael stared at it, as the headache returned. Sharp pain made thinking difficult; the room started moving. Michael lost his balance and fell on the floor. His phone was ringing. Time slowed down, as Michael forced himself on two feet. He looked above, and saw the woman's body attached to the ceiling – still covered by the blue velvet. It made no sense – as if gravity had become unnaturally selective.

Michael leaned against the walls and clumsily descended back to the wooden door. He pulled it open, as a disgusting, sweet stench entered the staircase. Behind the doorway, the grid of corridors had changed: floor and walls were soft; coloured like human skin. Michael stared at the peach-esque shades, thin hair-like protrusions and blue structures resembling veins, running seemingly below the surfaces. Air was warm and heavy, filled with the revolting smell.

Michael stepped in the hallway – the floor felt like rigid, solid mass of rubber. A metallic sound emerged, which reminded Michael of his threatening situation. His only hope was returning to the grid's entrance, which was precisely in front of him – yet way too far away. As Michael had no options, he started walking, trying to get used to the stench. Even so, it made him dizzy every now and then, and forced him to lean against the walls – white, greasy stains were left on his jacket.

A howling, wind-like noise pushed through the corridor – Michael's mind was filled with visions of massive, black shape approaching him. He turned around frantically, until a narrow pillar of extremely bright light appeared – it pushed through the vertical darkness and swept across the hallway. Michael started running, and turned right from the next crossroads. He felt sudden streak of panic, as a black figure flew right above him. It landed on the corridor, creating a series of lazy, fluttering sounds. Michael raised his gun and pulled the trigger several times; a cloud of black feathers was thrown in the air. The figure rose back on it wings and disappeared behind a turn, leaving shock-ridden Michael behind.

Michael threw his panicking gaze all around the hallways, barely noticing the bullet holes in one of the walls – they were seeping red liquid. He filled the revolver's chamber and kept running, well aware of the creature being close by. The bright pillar appeared again and focused on Michael – he threw himself on the ground, as the black figure flew right above him, and disappeared in the darkness. Michael pulled himself up and kept moving, passing two humanoids – naked women wearing cone-shaped helmets. One of them was sitting on the floor, other one was standing perfectly still, doing nothing. Michael turned left – his environmental awareness was panicking; he had to find the middle corridor.

Bright light appeared again; the black shape flew in front of Michael. A series of fluttering sounds emerged, as it stepped in one of the crossroads, thus revealing itself: a naked humanoid with brown skin and wings; several rows of shiny, black feathers glittered in the silver glow. Its legs were contorted and notably long – they ended in pitch-black hoofs; their sharp edges were sinking in the soft floor. Its face was covered by an intricate metallic structure – a long, complex optical instrument, with length of an arm. There was a round, black lens at its tip, plus a blinding light source. This instrument was bolted to the creature's head with three leather straps and an equal amount of large steel rivets.

Michael wasted no time: he shot the creature twice, spilling bloody feathers everywhere. A smooth, bone-coloured needle pushed through its hand, forming a swift weapon. Michael fired again, this time hitting the optical construction and apparently breaking it: the creature faltered and fell down, bumping its body against the wall. Michael jumped backwards, as the creature pulled itself up and leaped in the perpendicular hallway. Michael listened: he heard very faint tapping sounds, as the hoofs drummed against the skin-like floor. He kept turning around, until the sounds disappeared – after a long minute, Michael decided to continue running. He passed several crossroads, trying to find the right corridor.

Michael stopped – the tapping reappeared. He threw himself on the ground as bone-coloured needle swung across the air. Instinctively, Michael drove his foot towards the creature's leg – adrenaline-filled kick broke the bone. As the creature lost balance, Michael got his chance: he used the remaining bullets, forcing it to back away. Deafening, wind-like sound was formed, as it rose on its wings and flew to the darkness. Michael fought his way on two feet and kept running – he could already see the grid's entrance. He passed more cone-headed women until reaching it, and entering the mannequin storage – its floor was still made out of concrete, which was supposedly a good sign. Michael started (less patiently) inspecting the door leading to the spiralling staircase – however, it was locked. Then, he heard a tired expression:

"Michael...you shouldn't be here."

Barber was sitting against the wall, next to a group of mannequins. His clothes were extremely filthy.

"We can't leave yet. It has to be over."

Michael turned his gun towards Barber.

"Key...give me the key" he uttered.

"I don't have it – if I did, you think I'd still sit here? He has it."

Michael lowered the gun, breathing heavily.

"What the fuck is this? Those...posters, this place and...that fucking thing..."

"It's me – for now" Barber said.

"...this is you? This is what you do?" Michael repeated. Barber stood up slowly and started talking:

"I have needs, Michael. Everything feeds them...whatever I do, the pressure just keeps getting worse. You know, right? You know how –"

"Shut the fuck up" Michael spat. He looked at the ceiling, just now noticing there was no ceiling anymore – instead, a smooth bed of hair. Nothing but huge, even mass of brown hair, swinging gently around – the sight was revolting.

"He's here" Barber said. Michael turned around; a naked body fell through the hair and got crushed against the concrete. Next, the creature followed – it swam through the hair and glided towards Michael, yet the broken leg made it clumsy: Michael jumped sideways and fired the gun. One of the bullets broke the light source; black liquid started leaking from the optic system. The creature rubbed its head furiously, as if attempting to remove the broken gadget. It fell down in panic, and Michael stepped next to it – three bullets drilled their way inside its skull, killing it instantly.

Michael walked slowly backwards until falling down – Barber was already gone. He stared at the hair hanging above, then at the monster's corpse. He felt extremely tired; air was cold again. The body of a dead woman was lying in the corner – Michael noticed a glimmering item clutched in her hand. It was a large silver key; presumably for the locked exit. Michael picked it up and approached the door, yet dizziness forced him on his knees. Eventually he made it to the door, and returned to the small storage room. Michael closed the door behind him and sat on the floor, next to the dusty box shelf. His phone started vibrating – a short text message appeared on the screen:

How about Amy?

Michael dropped the phone and closed his eyes; his head was aching. He heard a distant howling sound until falling asleep.