You're almost late for class, so you rush into the subway station. The familiar smell of ozone and hot metal hits your nostrils as you spot N, Uzi, and V standing near the turnstiles, deep in conversation about something you can't quite hear. You ignore them for now—getting to class on time is your priority.

You quickly buy a ticket, rush through the doors, and hurry down the graffiti-covered stairwell. The sound of train wheels screeching on tracks echoes from somewhere in the distance as you reach the platform.

Now you stand on the platform, waiting for the train, your foot tapping nervously against the grimy concrete. The station lights flicker occasionally, casting eerie shadows across the advertisements plastered on the walls. You check your phone: only five minutes until your first class starts.