Within a homely suburban abode...

A teenager sits on the arm of a living room couch, talking to a friend on the phone as she waits for her younger brother to get off the computer.

"So the girl goes, dude, what's there to do if you're under 21 and don't have a fake ID like three-fourths of the campus? And I'm like, bitch, please! This is effing Chicago! How can you not have something to do?"

Garbled mumbling from the other end.

The teenage girl giggles maliciously. "Yeah, I know, I'm surrounded by morons. I swear to Artemis, it's a madhouse..."

The doorbell rings.

"What the—? Hang on, gotta get the door." The girl drops the phone on the couch and runs to slip off the chain. With a crank of the knob, she pulls the door open. "Sorry, none of us play golf here—HOLY FUCK!"

A rusted chain flies out and pierces her bloodily through her heart.

Her eyes widen.

Her body falls.

Alex jerks his arm.

Her body flies right out the door and onto the street.

A garbage truck passes nonchalantly over her corpse, spurting out the innards for the local birds to dine on.

Alex smirks.

He saunters in, chains rattling.

He picks up the phone the teenager left on the couch. "Hey, girl!" he greets, plopping down onto the plush seats.

"Whoah! 'Sup, homie-G?" comes the voice of Terra from the other end.

The scene fades to grayscale...

And an ominous voiceover mutes the ensuing conversation.

"Alex WINS. SORA-TALITY."