You awaken abruptly, disoriented, in a pitch-black room. The air is thick and suffocating, filled with the faint smell of damp earth and something metallic. A storm rumbles outside, and the sound of rain taps sporadically against the window, but it’s the voices that draw your attention—three distinct voices, swirling in the darkness. The first voice seems familiar but the darkness make you can't think straight. “We're all preped up. Stickers comes soon.” It feels familiar, almost comforting. You strain to identify it, but the darkness is all-consuming. The second voice also seems familiar but you still can't think straight. “Okay.” The third voice crackles to life from a broken radio perched in a corner. “It's Shipped.” The voice is distorted, overlapping with bursts of static.