Shot snorricam: a body-mounted camera locks on a tense young man—tousled hair, patterned jacket—pinning his face center frame in a cold, bluish night alley. His eyes are wide, jaw clenched, breath rapid, while the world lurches and tilts around him: bricks smear, streetlights flicker, shadows strobe. As he whips his head side to side, a dark-clothed clown swims into the wobbling background behind him, phantom-blurred and reaching in. The alley squeezes tight; the frame spins but his face never lets go, trapping us inside his rising panic.