Acting quickly, you draw back your machete and slash at the man in the net. Your machete slices through the air and hits—nothing. Your doppelgänger has vanished, leaving behind only a billowing cloud of smoke!
You stand there for a moment, stunned. So stunned that at first you don’t notice that your shirt is soaked through with blood. Your machete—the machete that was intended for your doppelgänger—is lodged in your chest!
The pain hits you all at once, and you collapse to the ground.
“I sure hope I get to find out what the hell is going on before I die,” you think. “I hope this isn’t like one of those stories where something crazy happens, and the author can’t think of a good way to explain it and is bored of writing, so instead they just end the story abruptly.”