'Ben Barry, who I have not seen in reality for a good many years, has a vendetta against me. I am returning from a shopping trip with my Dad (Marty Crane from Frasier) and as we leave the lift, Ben is there with an accomplice who I am unable to see. He has a bag of bottles filled with petrol and a lighter which won't work. He tells me to 'fucking watch it.' I go inside, put the shopping down and call my brother, who by a small leap of logic, is Kelsey Grammer. He suggests calling the police. I do this, but as I open my door to check if Ben is still around, he runs at me, knocking me to the floor. In the hallway outside the apartment (tall building with remarkably few stairs, seemingly built where the Galaxy is in Luton) he tries to light the petrol bombs and gut my apartment. I grab the flame - oddly it doesn't burn my hands - and throw Ben to the floor. Then I run, down the stairs and out in to the quad, which is an odd mix of Luton and Birmingham, everything garish and neon lit for no discernible reason. Someone offers to hide me but I decline, instead sitting in a pub and thinking about the fact I have killed a man – this is only now apparent to me; the act of shoving Ben over actually killed him, though I don't remember this really happening. I decide to call the police and explain. They are already in my building and have decided I was right to kill Ben. There will be no trial. Kelsey Grammer calls to congratulate me.'
In some sort of wasteland, possibly Malton from urbandead but in reality. The buildings and general lay out of the space appears to be a grid system, dark green, crisscrossing and bisecting the land; it resembles a giant board game. The sky is muted orange, and I have a feeling there is something lurking in the increasing shadows that dusk has introduced. Someone who I am with shows me around their flat. From the window I see abandoned car parks, and in the distance lakes and mountains, though this view is partially obscured by smoke rising from refineries that seem to encircle the town. The light is falling away. No-one is on the street when I am taken to the next house. The view from the window is the other house. Each subsequent place I am shown around offers a view of the preceding property. I am caught in a loop of property viewing, with some unknown menace responsible for the trap I find myself in.
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