Late at night, in a luxurious mansion, everything was silent. On the big bed, Jonathan Black lay between two beautiful women. Every night, he needed at least two women, and only those with plenty of experience and stamina could satisfy him. Tonight, after everything was done, Jonathan lay on the bed and drifted into sleep.
Jonathan never dreamed—his sleep was always deep and heavy. That was one of the reasons he could keep up his boundless energy. But tonight, in the depths of sleep, something felt different.
A jumble of chaotic images flashed before his eyes, like photos crudely pieced together. There were scattered voices, but he couldn’t make out any words, and none of it made sense. It was like watching an old TV with bad reception—static, noise, random lines, bits of dialogue mixed with blurry pictures, but in the end, nothing was clear.
Amid the mess, daytime scenes replayed: he saw Jill Young step off the plane, knock down the tester, pull out the Golden Orb; he heard Jill Young threaten him, but felt not the slightest displeasure. Finally, he dreamed Jill Young reached out her hand, as if to shake his. Instinctively, he took it, and the instant their skin touched, that electric jolt shot through him—just like before, only now it happened in his dream.
Then, he heard a distant voice—
...Death Cage...
His heart seized up in sudden agony.
"Ah—!" Jonathan screamed and sat bolt upright, gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat, his eyes wild as he instinctively scanned the room.
The women on the bed woke up startled by his shout, quickly sitting up and asking softly, "What's wrong, darling? Nightmare?" As she spoke, one gently wiped the sweat from Jonathan's forehead.
But Jonathan immediately roared, "Get lost, you bitch! Don't touch me! Out, all of you, get out now!"