Bells rang out through the streets. I sat up, rubbing my eyes and wiping the sleep crust away. Alone in an unfamiliar alley, I fumbled through the pockets of my black suit, searching for the familiar flask of rum. My quest proved futile, but just as frustration crept in, I noticed the flask lying on the pavement nearby. Grasping it eagerly, I brought the burning liquid to my lips, the warmth coursing down my throat.

"Well, it's enough to get me going," I grumbled under my hot breath, rising to my feet. I ventured onto the main street, aiming to gauge my surroundings and find the nearest liquor store. The need for more rum pulsed through me; it was the only thing that kept me from thinking about how shitty my life had become.

Navigating the unfamiliar streets, the blazing streetlights assaulted my eyes. A mysterious disorientation gripped me; I couldn't recall ever being in this part of the city. The bells rang out again, their haunting melody echoing through the alleyways.

"What the fuck is that?" I pondered, dismissing the first set of bells as my imagination. As I continued down the block, the sense of unease intensified, amplified by the repeated tolling of the bells.

The streets seemed eerily deserted, with an ominous atmosphere hanging in the air. My steps quickened as the reality of my situation became apparent - I was lost. I picked up my pace, trying to find a liquor store or a street name I could remember. But every building on this part of the city was boarded up, then I realized that none of the streets had signs. I looked down at my dusty old wristwatch and saw that it was only 11:16 PM.

“Why is there no one else on the streets, no cars, no lights other than the street lamps?” I quickly asked myself. “What the fuck is this?”

As I turned a corner, a majestic yet decrepit building loomed before me, its facade adorned with grotesque gargoyles and foreboding statues. Atop the peculiar structure rested a towering crow's nest of sorts. Intently, I scrutinized the balcony, squinting my eyes to pierce the shadows. Dozens of hooded figures, their faces concealed, populated the balcony. Some wielded binoculars, peering into the darkness with an unsettling intensity.

Amidst my growing confusion, one hooded figure at the balcony's edge raised their hand and snapped their fingers. Silence prevailed until the resonating boom of the bell shattered it once more.

As I redirected my attention towards the source of the bells, I spotted a man sprinting toward me. "Great, I can ask him what's going on here," I muttered to myself as I advanced towards him.

Several strides away, the man began lifting a bat adorned with menacing nails over his head. It dawned on me—his intent was not to assist but to inflict harm. Swiftly, I pivoted, sprinting in the opposite direction. I glanced back in time to witness the man's futile swing, the miss slowing him down and granting me the upper hand in our footrace.

I skidded down a narrow alley, attempting to evade my assailant. Ducking behind an empty dumpster, I held my breath, straining to discern the other man's footsteps. A slow exhale escaped me as the footsteps hurried past the alley. I remained motionless for a minute, grappling with the surreal reality unfolding around me, trying to fathom where I was and what was happening.

As I stood, my attention was drawn to a cluster of posters affixed to the brick wall across from my hiding spot. Moving closer, I began reading them, each bearing the same phrase:

"Death is your only escape; kill or be killed, the bells will free you."

Another ring of the bells startled me, and I tore my eyes from the poster. Compelled by an unsettling curiosity, I walked towards the haunting sound, now closer than before. Despite turning down various alleys, I accepted that finding my way back to the posters was futile, yet they offered no additional insight. The buildings in this labyrinth of alleys became increasingly aged and decrepit.

Upon turning a final corner, I confronted the source of the ominous tolls—a man in a long black robe, clutching a rope, stood facing away from me. His pallid skin resembled the moon's glow, or so I initially thought. Drawing closer, a realization dawned upon me: this was no ordinary man. The absence of skin revealed a skeletal form, and what I beheld was not a man's face but a ghastly skull.

He swiftly pivoted towards me, and his bony finger jabbed accusingly at my face, sending shivers down my spine. “To escape this city, you must take the life of another traveler. When the bell tolls, someone has been killed and the killer has been freed from the City of Death.”

“Who were those figures on the lookout tower? Can I target them?” I questioned.

“No, those, like me, are the custodians of the city; we ensure adherence to the rules. Now, be on your way!” The Skeleton barked, his authority cutting through the air.

My attention snapped to a rapidly approaching figure. Panic seized me, and I bolted, an urgent need to arm myself propelling me forward. In a desperate dash, I sought refuge in another alley, scanning frantically for anything that could serve as a weapon. The approaching footsteps intensified, heightening my anxiety.

Among a cluster of posters, one caught my eye with an arrow indicating a loose brick in the wall. My fingers reached out, tearing the brick from its resting place. Before I could think, I turned around and swung hard, landing a blow to the other man's temple. He stumbled to the ground. I jumped on top of him and kept hitting him, harder and angrier with each blow. Blood streamed from his head, covering me. The last sound I heard was the bells and the man's last gasp before death.