John Blackwell stood on the edge of a foreign landscape, the sun casting long shadows across the ground as it set behind a distant mountain range. The air was thick with the scent of something metallic, and the faint sound of machinery hummed in the background. The world he had landed in was industrial, gritty, and full of danger. His journey through dimensions had taken him to places beyond his wildest imagination, but this one felt different—darker, more oppressive.

He had been stuck here for what felt like weeks, maybe longer. The familiar hum in his bones—the energy that had once allowed him to slip between worlds—was gone. Now, he was just a man in a trench coat, with nothing but his wits and a pack of cigarettes to keep him company.