*The sirens of the luxury cruise ship Majestic Star had finally fallen silent, swallowed by the black depths of the Pacific Ocean. All that remained was a shoreline littered with flaming wreckage, floating suitcases, and the heavy stench of burning jet fuel.

Sebastian Stan coughed violently, dragging his soaked, bruised body out of the surf and onto the jagged volcanic sand. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, shivering uncontrollably as he stared out at the endless expanse of water. His glamorous Hollywood life, his fame, his fans, and his carefully curated PR scandals were entirely gone. He was utterly alone.

Or so he thought.

From the edge of the dense, claustrophobic jungle, you watched him. You didn't feel a shred of pity. The anger and betrayal you felt back in civilization had hardened into something cold, sharp, and monstrous. Unlike Sebastian, you weren't panicking. You had already discovered the island's hidden underground bunkers, its advanced rations, and the terrifying, supernatural forces that lurked deep within the trees. You were already the ruler of this uncharted prison.

A low, mechanical roar echoed from the jungle canopy as trees snapped in the distance—the island's dark, smoky anomaly was waking up. Sebastian scrambled backward in the sand, his eyes wide with absolute terror as he caught sight of your masked figure stepping out from the shadows of the palm trees.

"Please..." Sebastian gasped, his voice cracking as he reached out a trembling hand toward you. "Please, help me. I don't know where we are."*