List of Victors

Paladin
A muscular and broad-shouldered boy, his brown hair is shorn short in a dignified manner. Deep-set hazel eyes rest in his thick skull.

Blacksmith
A rather average boy whose hands are marked with calluses and scars from working in the Smithy his entire life. His thick, banded arms are muscled and strong from his hard work, but he is not as muscular as the Paladin. He has slick, inky black hair and azure blue eyes.

Tailor
A girl who works as a tailor in ???. She's slender, athletic, with shoulder-length, fair, curly hair and cornflower-blue eyes. She usually holds a wry, crooked smile that is slightly at odds with the rest of her delicate features.

Hunter Haven
Hunter is average sized sixteen year-old, but is decently athletic. He has thick, brown hair that is close-cropped to his head. Piercing brown eyes accentuate an otherwise unremarkable countenance, a round face with an overly average nose and thin lips. Hunter has pale skin, a common characteristic of those from the north, especially for those whom rarely spent time outdoors, like Hunter.

Garret Clausen
Garret is student at Woodbury High and has lived in the town for his entire life. He is the first student that Hunter meets and quickly befriends him. Garret stands just below average height, at 5'9. He has shaggy brown hair and brown eyes.

Celeste Stryker
Celeste is a student at Woodbury High and the daughter of Tiberius Styker, the CEO and founder of Stryker Industries. She is a friendly, soft-spoken girl who has incredible artistic abilities and almost always carries a sketchbook with her. Although she is kind and a little meek, she is not afraid to speak her mind and is quite intelligent. She has chin-length curly, light auburn hair and brown eyes.

Seraphina Saunders
Seraphina, or Sera as she prefers to be called, is a student at Woodbury High. She has lived in the town for her entire life but is bored to death by the bland and rote nature of it. Her father is a renowned doctor at a nearby hospital and her mother is an attorney, both of whom wish to see her replicate the success that they have achieved. Sera, however, hates the pressure they set onto her and often lashes out. Sera adopts a cold, ruthless personality fitting of the juvenile delinquent that she is, but underneath this facade Sera is a funny, kind girl who simply doesn't yet know her place in the world. Sera is tall for a girl, standing at 5'7. She often dresses in leather clothing and has pieces of metal attached. She wears cross-shaped earrings and has long, dark hair that she has highlighted by dying a multitude of different colors.

Alistair Styrker
Alistair is a senior student at Woodbury High and the adopted son of Tiberius Styker, the CEO and founder of Stryker Industries. He is an honor student who routinely finishes at the top of his class in every category. Tall and handsome, with golden blond hair and blue eyes, Alistair is unsurprisingly popular with his female classmates. Despite this, however, he's very introverted and rarely gets an sort of attachment to other people. Nevertheless, most tend to adore the mystery he brings, especially since he was an orphan with unkown parentage.

James Johnson
Officer James Johnson is a young police officer in the city of Woodbury. He grew up in the city, but moved here after college. He is suspicious of Stryker Industries and it's these suspicions that bring him into contact with Hunter and CO. Johnson is lean and handsome, straight as a spear, and a body hard with muscle. He has a mop of deep ebony hair, pale blue eyes, and an aquiline nose. He is strong and fast, with a powerful arms and toughened legs from his police training.

Chapter One
I wake up to ash and dust.

Eyes blinking in confusion as I roll over quietly in one of the Krew’s watch-holes—a hidden alcove built into the bricks on the side of the safehouse. From within it, a Krewmember could watch the street for any signs of danger. It is one of the most important jobs we could receive. Zesst would be spitting mad if he found out I was sleeping on guard.

I stretch my arms, watching the ashen flakes drift through the air. Leisurely. Careless. Free. The puffs of soot fell like black snowflakes, descending upon the dark city of Luxendarc. They drifted in corners, blowing in the breeze and curling in tiny whirlwinds over the cobblestones. They seemed so uncaring. Unlike me.

It's been a long time since I could be carefree and not worry about everything. Since my parents died, actually. That was a long thirteen years ago.

The ash continued to fall. Sometimes, I imagined what it would feel like to be the ash or the dust that always rained down on Luxendarc. I'd be without thought, capable of simply being, not caring, or hurting. Then I'd snap back to reality as I realised that I'd just be swept away by the wind, or wiped to nothingness by the LitterBots. Just an annoying speck to be stamped out by the Society.

Just like I am now, really.

I hear a shuffling a short distance away, then the trap door at the back of the small chamber snaps open.

“Hunter!” Krit says, poking his head into the room. “There you are! I've been searching for you for a half hour.”

"You know I was on guard," I tell him. I'm glad that I woke before he arrived, I can imagine the scolding I'd receive if word got around that I was slacking on my duties.

I guess," Krit shrugs like it doesn't matter to him in the slightest. "But we should get going now. The job’s almost ready to begin.”

Krit is a tall and gangly boy about my age. Most of the Krewmembers are about my age, the life of a thief attracts several different demographics: Cruel, cold-hearted people who are in it only for the money and young, ill-prepared denizens who have no other option left. Krit and I fit in the latter category, while Zesst exists in the former.

I nod at Krit. "Okay. Let's go."

I slide out of the cramped—yet comforting—confines of the watch-hole. I brush past Krit and hop out of the trap door, moving into a run-down pantry. The room was one of many at the back of the store that served as a front for the safehouse. Our crew’s lair itself is hidden in a tunneled stone cavern beneath the building.

I leave the building through a back door, Krit trailing behind me. Today's job will happen a few blocks away, in a richer section of town. It's a difficult task—one of the most complex I've ever seen apart of and, assuming that we get away with it, will have the greatest reward ever. I may even be able to finally leave the Krew. On the other hand, if we're caught...Well, the Society is not something to be trifled with.

Thieving isn't the most noble of ways to provide for Grandpa and Lissa, but it certainly beats working in the mines or the textile factories.

We exit the alleyway, moving out onto a dark, tenement-lined street in one of the city’s many slums. People too sick to work lay huddled in corners and gutters, soot drifting around them. I keep my head down and pull up my cloak’s hood against the still-falling flakes. Many times I've made eye-contact with some of these starving people and been guilted into giving them a few coins or food that I could barely afford to live without. Now, I avoid looking at them altogether, lest I be persuaded to be charitable.

Life is harsh on the Society's streets, and if a thief wants to keep from starving to death, he has to be practical.

It's not until we've left the slums far behind that I look up. Here, things are slightly better. Most of the buildings have been built from stone blocks, with tile roofs for the wealthy, and simple, peaked wooden roofs for the rest. The structures are packed closely together, making them all seem smaller then they really are. Spread throughout the city are about a dozen monolithic keeps. Covered with intricate designs and topped with rows of nail-like spires or deep archways, these buildings are where the wealthiest citizens of ??? live, as well as where the Praetorian's are housed.

"Watch out," Krit murmurs as we reach the wider sections of the city, at the base of one of the huge keeps. Most of the open ground in the city is around these keeps. The rest is basically just narrow alleys and tiny backroads. Nothing at all like Luxendarc, the Society's capital that I see all the time on the HoloScreen.

"Watch out for what?" I ask as Krit creeps to the side of a nearby building. Inky blackness runs down the wall, spread by the ashen rain that falls on the slanted rooftops and slides off the edge. The dark stuff is everywhere, carried by the rain and spread by the wind. It clung to the walls and crept into corners, it particularly marred the cobblestone streets.

"Praetorian's," Krit nods his head across the clearing, at the keeps edge. I had been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I hadn't noticed them, but now I do. A pair of them, dressed in simple white cloaks that cover their matching uniform; Armored helmets, ribbed chest plates, and sashes ornamented with with the silver stars of the Society thrown across their shoulders. Everything they wear is white, a curious thing when the ashen rain always streaks and stains the pure color with black grime. After a few hours on patrol, a Praetorian's uniform is more of an ashen gray then white.

Right now the pair that I watch wear relatively clean uniforms, showing that they haven't been out for very long as they follow a LitterBot down the street. The quadriplegic machine gently hums as it goes along, sucking up the black sludge that piles up on the floor. They pay us no attention.

"So?" I ask, glancing back at Krit. "They're not bothering us." We're not doing anything wrong. It's not a crime in itself to be out and about on the streets, at least, before sundown it isn't. Funny. The curfew was implemented to stop thieving gangs like mine, but all it did was have us move our illicit activities to daylight hours.

"I know," Krit sayas, casually walking towards an adjacent alley, all the while keeping an eye on the Praetorian's as they continue down the street parallel to us. "But Zesst told us to be extra careful and I don't want to needlessly anger him by bringing any Praetorian's to his door."

"We won't," I say firmly as the pair of guards disappear down the bend of a soot-stained building. Riling Zesst up is the last thing I need. He's an extremely volatile man, prone to fits of wild yelling and audden violence—especially when he's scared or nervous about a plot of his.

"We better not," Krit mutters as he takes the lead and slides down several winding alleys. "I still think about that time we messed up the cranberry job." I wince, remembering the incident too vividly. My left cheek still bares a mark from where Zesst struck me.

"We won't," I repeat. "We won't mess up. This job will go down without a hitch. I guarantee it."

A chill wind has picked up by the time we arrive outside the hotel. The city square is empty as, high in the sky and connected to a keep's side, the HoloScreen flashes with color.

The HoloScreen is basically a giant television; a square box with screens on all four sides. Right now it's showing Challenges, a Society wide game show that has "Challengers" compete in a variety of competitions for everyone's amusement. Well, everyone except the Challengers.

The Challenges are competitions that range from physical battles, to impossible obstacle courses, to computer-driven tests of agility. To triumph enough times in the challenges is to live the life of a king. To lose is to die.

A man sits on a stage, inside of a giant see-through cube, a large bomb set up in front of him as he holds a pair of pliers. A huge crowd surrounds him, cheering and jeering. He's playing Boom! A game where you have to answer trivia questions to disarm a bomb. One Challenger has to answer six questions that have multiple correct answers but only one incorrect answer. The Challenger must cut the wires on a bomb that correspond to the correct answers. If they are incorrect, the bomb explodes

"Cut the yellow wire..." I mutter under my breath as I stop to watch the sweaty man. His shaking hands swing the pliers back and forth between the last two remaining wires. Behind him, a clock swiftly counts down. If it reaches zero, the bomb blows--regardless of whether the wrong wire was cut.

Krit stops as he notices that my attention has been diverted. We both watch silently as the man carefully uses his pliers to cut the blue wire.

Immediately a three second countdown commences. When it ends, we will learn the fate of the Challenger.

It's not good.

The bomb explodes, eschewing shards of jagged glass that fly out from every orifice. The poor man initially cries out in pain as the glass cuts into his flesh, but he quickly goes silent as he dies painfully from the blows.

The crowd cheers wildly as the commentators talk over the situation. "It was the glass bomb!" One of them roars loudly.

"He should have cut the yellow wire!" The other opines. I turn away from the HoloScreen, disgusted. Krit lets out a low whistle.

"I'd hate to have that happen to us," He says. I don't respond. The truly terrifying thing about the Challenges is that you don't have a choice on whether you compete or not. All convicted criminals in the court of the Society are eligible to be sent to Luxendarc, where they will be forced become Challengers and to compete in the Challenges. No choice whatsoever. "It could happen, you know." Krit says as we walk up to the hotel's doors. "If we're caught, they could very well send us to the Challenges."

"I know." I think about it everytime we do a job. Every time I come home to my family. It's the worst way to die, I think. Having everyone treat it like it's some kind of game and cheer when you finally die.

"C'mon," Krit grabs my elbow and steers me into the hotel. "The others are waiting for us."

Chapter Two
The room Zesst has ordered is posh and indulgent. Gold trim line the windows that look out onto the city. Silks and satin cover the magnificent bed. Walls decorated with artistic floral patterns and vast quilted tapestries. Not to mention the food. One pantry alone holds more food than I've seen in a week.

"You know," Krit says as he takes a seat in a plush red armchair. "I could get used to this."

"Well, don't," I tell him, grabbing a particularly delicious looking pastry from the counter. "We're not staying. We only got this room for the plan."

Zesst's plan is almost comical in how much set-up it requires. How much work. It took weeks of thieving and spying to pull it off. Tricking the Society's Magistrates is not a simple task. He--and the others--haven't yet arrived, leaving me and Krit to wait on them.

"Oh, I know. Believe me, I know." Krit throws his arms back over his head, a lazy smile flickering on his face. "But if the plan succeeds...Well, we'll have enough money to make this permanent!"

I don't hold the same amount of optimism. Sure, the payoff--if we succeed--is to be great. But who will gain most of this wealth? Zesst. Simple footmen such as Krit and I will only get one-sixteenth, if that. Still, it's more than enough for me. Anything is better than nothing.

"You're very quiet today, Hunter," Krit raises an eyebrow at me. "Something amatter?"

I shrug, taking time to chew and swallow my food before answering. "The plan isn't guaranteed to succeed, you know. And don't forget that we have a part to play too."

He sighs, swishing a wine bottle he picked out from a nearby cabinet around in his hands. "Yes, I know. I'd have preferred to stay here, living it up like a Society slob, but I guess--"

"PUT THAT DOWN!"

Krit jumps in his seat, dropping the bottle and fumbling with it in his lap. I don't budhe. I heard the door opening, and knew what was happening.

A man stalks into the room, flanked by several other figures. The man marches up to Krit poking a stern finger into his ribs much harder than necessary. "You slagging idiot! Do you think I bought this room so you could play in it?!"

"N-no, sir!" Krit's face pales, hands shaking as he sets the wine bottle back on the table. It doesn't do to upset Zesst.

"No is right! I didn't!" Zesst slides forward, faster then a man of his bulk should be, and slaps Krit so hard across the face that he pitches sideways and falls out of his seat. "I bought this room so we could plan! Not behave like a dainty Society fool!" His boots shoots out and connects with Krit's ribs. I hear the grunt of pain as the gangly boy rolls onto his side.

"I'm--sorry, sir," He gasps, getting to his hands and knees. "W-won't happen again."

Zesst eyes him darkly, then turns away with a low growl. "It better not."

Zesst is a gaunt-faced man, with sharp cheekbones and a heavy brow. His nose is large and hooked, hair long, dark and thin and brushed so that it covers the center of his head, where he has begun to bald. A boss of a rival Krew teased him about it once. That boss and his Krew no longer operate.

"You all know the plan, I presume?" Zesst looks over the group he brought with him, five total, not counting Krit and myself.

They nod. We've rehearsed this many times in the past month. There's no way we would forget. But Zesst still repeats it, just because. "A Society Magistrate will meet with us in this room. As you all know, I've spent the finer parts of the last few years building, scam­ming, and finagling to create this moment. I will not let it go to waste." Years. Zesst has been planning this heist since before I was even part of the Krew. "Alonso and Beresford will stay here with me," Zesst indicates two darkfaced men who stand in the group. "The rest of you will perform the secondary portion of the plan. You will break into the hotel

The Students
Alfa Team: Hayle, Vika, & Arlyssa

Bravo Team: Jackson, Boone, & Ophra

Charlie Team: Peter, Rosalind, & Paige

Delta Team: Cassandra, Danielle, & Braxton

Echo Team: Aaron, Ryan, & Preston

Foxtrot Team: Dallas, Tarelia, & Garret

Golf Team: Morgan, Jordan, & Ryker

Hotel Team: Miiko, Genevieve, & Sera

India Team: Jedikiah, Marisol, & Aracelia

Kilo Team: Ikaika, Callie, & Lysander

The Game is Afoot
Hunter emerged from the house and onto a foggy hillside. He could barely see three feet in front of him as he cautiously stepped forward, keeping one hand on his knife at all times. Where was this? Hunter had studied the maps back during prep time, but he had seen few hills. Perhaps this was the far north of the island? Whatever the case, he needed to be prepared. The other Challengers could have been dropped off nearby.

The house itself was positioned several dozen feet from a sheer cliff that, as far as Hunter could tell, dropped right into the ocean. ''Yes. This must be the north end of the island''. Hunter didn't know what to make of that. The nearest landmark would be the shooting range, but even that would be way at the bottom of the hills.

x5/xx/20xx Research Building A, Laboratory Room Sigma
08:12: Replica of Picasso's "Guernica"

Combustion confirmed. No thermal variance detected on surface resin.

Thermal energy seems to originate from within the frame.

xx/xx/20xx Research Building A, Laboratory Room Sigma
10:32: Page 6 of Leo Lionni's "Swimmy"

Combustion confirmed. Material: paper. No source of ignition present.

Combustion confirmed in both cases near test subjects "A006", "0003" and "V005."

Further testing scheduled.

x6/xx/20xx Research Building A, Laboratory Room Sigma
09:30: "A006" and "V005" moved into room. Test commenced.

Doll is given to only "V005." Beginning observation of both subjects.

09:44: Confirmed combustion of the doll in subject "V005's" jacket pocket.

Chance of doll spontaneously combusting is less than 0.01%.

Aggregating personnel data on who was present in comparison to the combustion times.

Only one test subject corresponded.

All targets of combustion were in "A006's" line of sight, and were noted items of interest for the subject.

Evidence seems to indicate that the combustion occurs as a result of (REDACTED)

Conclusion: (REDACTED)

x6/x5/20xx Research Building H, Special Soundproof Room
Test subject "V005"

x9:30 Taking into consideration the nature of test subject V005's (REDACTED), she has been isolated in a specially designed soundproof room.

Since V005 can converse through (REDACTED) without the use of (REDACTED), this test is to investigate her (REDACTED).

Though the reason is unknown, the subject does not enjoy using (REDACTED) during her daily life.

This soundproof room is a last resort to force her to utilize it.

Since this room absorbs all noise, from human voices to the roar of a jet engine, no sound whatsoever will reach the subject's ears. When the subject is locked inside this all gray, inorganic room, free of sound or any other stimuli, she will be forced to use her ability.

It pains me somewhat to put such mental stress on such a young girl, but would she understand that (REDACTED)

I just need to remind myself that there's no way around this. This is a countermeasure against the test subject being uncooperative, and we have no other choice if we mean to get this data.

10:x2 Confirmed entrance of test subject V005 into the room. The soundproof device is still shut off.

The subject will be returned to her room for today. The testing will begin tomorrow.

xx/xx/20xx Research Building H, Special Soundproof Room
Test subject "V005"

xx:x7 Two days have already passed since the start of this test. The test subject's (REDACTED) has yet to be confirmed. The subject keeps her eyes closed, and is waiting for time to pass.

xx:x9 Now, on the fourth day, we finally have confirmed (REDACTED) activity from the test subject.

The activity observed was... a cry of utter anguish, like she was internally on the verge of tears.

It's... almost heartbreaking that such a sound was the first thing we heard from her.

xx:11 The higher-ups have ordered the continuation of this test.

The test subject has already promised to cooperate with our tests even after she's returned to her normal environment, but our superiors have decided that her word is not reliable enough guarantee...

Unfortunately, it looks as though we will have to continue this process indefinitely.

xx:xx As of today's test, we've acquired almost all the data we could hope for from the procedure.

The test subject will be released.

Who knows how long she has been confined to this room...When I try to calculate the number of days, my mind refuses to focus long enough to say for sure.

The test subject's (REDACTED)

I pray that this test doesn't have a painful impact on her future.

And I pray that...this will give us hope for our own.

xx/x9/20xx Research Building F, Test Lab
Test Subject: D001

9/15 Isolated the test subject to observe him.

According to the material from his previously assigned researcher, the subject is a dangerous individual, requiring extreme caution in any interaction. He should be observed from a secure location.

9/16 No unusual dangers can be detected fron the test subject. While I'm not doubting my predecessor's records, the impression I get from him seems quite different from what's on paper.

9/17 Measures the subject's basic physical capabilities, including strength and stamina. Strength appears average for one of his age, and he seems not to have any remarkable jumping powers. How, then, do these records contain reports of him destroying metallic disks and bookshelves with only his bare hands...?

9/18 There is a clear, massive discrepancy between what I've seen and the previous researcher's materials. I am considering easing the subject's isolation, and coming into direct contact with him. Perhaps most disturbing is the message written on the back of my predecessor's folder, in thick red marker.

"Everyone must stay away from D001."

Whatever this could mean... I am starting to feel compelled to find out for myself.

9/xx I have attempted contact with the test subject. The subject has been moved from the previous lab surrounded by bullet-proof glass, and placed into a research room to try conversing with him. The subject seems to be completely ordinary. It's... quite hard to believe that he is a danger of any sort.

I've discovered that my predecessor was diagnosed as mentally ill, and was thus suspended from his duties...which explains why the research he left behind proved so unreliable.

9/xx What could the test subject's (REDACTED) be?

I've performed all kinds of measurements and asked many questions of him, yet I'm finding he doesn't excel at anything in particular. It seems the subject himself has no clue as to his (REDACTED) either.

Continuing contact with him.

10/xx/20xx Research Building F, Test Lab
Test Subject: "D001"

xx/xx Attempting continued contact with the test subject.

Am I imagining things...?

I feel as if the way the subject speaks has...changed somehow, as well as his general demeanor and personality.

Honestly, I'm starting to feel like I've known him forever.

xx/xx When I'm speaking with the test subject, I feel like there's something... wrong with my mind. It's clear that he somehow knows me... wait. No, I know him...?

What's going on here?

Before we started the test, the subject was a stranger to me. I know that. I KNOW that...

xx/xx It finally hit me. I've been... seeing myself in the test subject all along.

Good God...

I thought I was talking to him, but I had been talking to myself the whole time.

I was analyzing and observing my own actions...

Wait. No. Hold on. Impossible. The boy before me is the test subject... clearly...is he somehow... mimicking me...?

xx/xx test subject is... me..? i don't know anymore.

what's going on. my memories, my thoughts...

he's me and I am... him?

am I the one being test?

xx/xx alone now. im testing? testing on him.

testing im being tested...? feels danger ous

testing test test must be called off. need to

update the data... file test data

cant do this anymore. too dangerous. cant even

remember my own face have to stop

this test subject...

everyone must stay away from D001

Prep
I wake up in a cold sweat. Fear spiking my heart as the dark memories of my dream swirl in my mind. I was in that forest again. I was being chased by that giant, metallic creature, as usual, through the same pale, lifeless forest. I have never been in a forest in real life. Never even seen a tree without any leaves. But it always shows up in my dreams. I do not understand.

I never do.

Despite my best efforts, the images of my dream soon begin to fade away. I try to grasp them, hold on to them, but it is like trying to catch mist with just your bare hand. It always manages to slip through the cracks of your fingers and disappear.

Then it is gone forever.

I lay my head back on the pillow, feeling the cold sweat of my shirt against my back. I've been having these dreams for almost a year now, but recently they have picked up in intensity, have become more vivid and detailed. Why? A logical reason would be because of the stress I'm under, trying to apply for a good college. But there must be more to it then that. There must.

Suddenly I sit up, no longer wishing to just lie here and think about it. I peel the sweat-stained shirt from my back and toss it off my bed. Today is a Saturday, so I don't have to go to school. I wanted to use that to catch up on my sleep, but the nightmare ruined that. And I'm not willing to try to sleep now. I have no desire to return to that hellish nightmare.

I run a hand through my unruly, dark brown hair as I rise from my bed, bare feet touching the old, wooden floor. My hair never seems to get in order, no matter how hard I try. And I've long since given up on trying.

I drop down and begin doing push-ups to drive the fog of sleep away from my mind. I do ten and then sigh loudly when I finish. I can do much better than that. Still, it worked. I don't feel very tired anymore. I stand up, ready to head downstairs to see if Mom has started on breakfast yet when I notice something that sends a chill down my spine.

I'm not in my room.

It's a surprisingly large room with irregular angles, pale blue walls, and hardwood floor. That itself isn't unusual, but the fact remained that this is not my bedroom. My room doesn't have blue walls; they're white. And I have carpet, not wood flooring. This is wrong. All wrong.

Heartbeat increasing rapidly, I spin around and take in the furnishings. There's a single bed, nightstand, and a sturdy desk with a futuristic mesh-work chair. There's a single black phone on the desk. The old-timey type with a cord and everything. That alone confirms it. My family hasn't had a phone like that ever. The only time I've even seen one before was at my Grandma's house.

What the hell is going on?

There's a door, positioned between the desk and bed. I rush towards it, eager to escape this place and find my parents so that I can get some answers. But the door is locked. I try everything I can think of. I shake the knob, slam my shoulder against it, even look for the keyhole to see if I can pick the lock. Nothing works. There's not even a keyhole. It's just a plain, metallic knob attached to a metal slate.

I back away from the door until I hit the far wall, where I slump to my knees.

What is happening? How did this happen? My chest feels like it is in a vise. Panic is constricting my airways, so I take a deep breath and try to calm down, lest I start hyperventilating. Think logically! There has to be a reason for this! People don't just magically appear in strange rooms!

I try to summon all the facts I know. I was in my room last night, playing video games and eating snacks. Nothing was out of the ordinary then. I've done the same thing every Friday night for as long as I can remember. So that's not the cause. But what happened after?

I rack my brain, but can only come up with simple things. I brushed my teeth. Checked my phone. Dad had just gotten back from a business trip, so he was home. But I can't see how that matters. How any of this matters. The fact is that I went to sleep in my own room and woke up in this new, frightening, locked room.

How could that happen? Things like this don't happen in real life. They only happen in movies and video games, books and...

...and dreams.

Of course. I am dreaming! That explains everything! After all, I do remember having that frightening dream about the metal creature. And whose to say that dream ever ended? I may still be in it. Lucid dreaming is a thing, after all. Of course, I've never had a lucid dream myself, but there's a first time for everything.

Suddenly feeling much better, I raise a hand to wipe my sweat away. And pause as I see something strange. It's metallic, silver and clamped firmly on my wrist. It's some kind of bracelet-like thing that seems to hold an opaque empty screen in the center of it. What the hell is it?

"My imagination is a strange place," I mutter, reaching out and tapping the screen with my fingers. Nothing happens. I try touching every part of the strange device but no matter what I do it does not react. Finally I just try ripping the thing off my wrist but I find that it's impossible. For some inexplicable reason it refuses to get off my arm.

Eventually I'm forced to give up. It's not like it matters anyway. Everything will be back to normal when I wake up. A lot less panicked now that I understand what is happening, I wander around the room, wondering what exactly is its purpose. I'm pretty sure I wouldn't just dream up a useless room. Probably.

A phone rings.

I freeze in place, then slowly crane my neck around to look at the black phone. It continues to ring, vibrating atop the table. Curious, I cross the room and pick it up. "Hello?" I ask, placing the receiver against my ear. "Who is this?"

"You're not dreaming, Hayle."

My breath catches in my throat. "Wh-who is this? How do you know my name?"

"Don't let yourself be deceived. Everything that is happening to you is real. Very real." It's a feminine voice speaking. Not one I've ever heard before. "You have to escape. But it won't be easy."

"What are you—"

"Listen closely," The voice rolls on, not letting me get more than a few words in. "Do what they say for now. Go along with the game. But don't tell anyone you've spoken with me. That last part is crucial. Do not tell anyone. Do you understand?"

"Listen, I don't know what—"

"Do you understand?"

I'm shaken now. Any peace that I gained by deluding myself into thinking this was a dream has long evaporated. I have no idea what the hell is happening, but it's frightening me beyond belief. "S-sure. Yeah, whatever."

"Good. Remember that. I'll keep in touch."

The phone clicks off.

With trembling hands, I set it back down. Deep breaths. I need to take deep breaths. This is real. That much is clear. I'm not dreaming, nor am I imagining this. That means...what does that mean? The only logical explanation would be that I was kidnapped, but that itself isn't even logical! Why would anyone kidnap me and stick me in a room? What could possibly be achieved by doing that?

And the voice on the phone. I don't understand a thing she said, beyond telling me that this is all real. I'm not very good with ages, but if I had to guess I'd say that she was somewhere in her early to mid-twenties. Maybe. I'm not even sure of that.

Why doesn't she want me telling anyone? And who could I possibly tell? I'm alone here in this small room. I couldn't tell anyone if I wanted to! I stroke my fingers along my head, trying to soothe the massive headache I feel coming on. I sit back down on the bed and stare at the blank wall.

What am I supposed to do now?

With a deep sigh, I realize that there's only one thing I can do. Search for a way out. So I do my best. Minutes pass, maybe even an hour. I lose track of time soon after triple-checking all the drawers. But there's nothing. No hidden mechanism, no secret passage, nothing. I even check under the bed and feel around on the floor for hidden panels. I come up empty every time.

On the verge of utter despair, I punch the wall beside the door and let out an exasperated scream.

To my total shock, a portion of the wall slides open, revealing a small number pad.

"How...What..." I stare at it for several long seconds, wondering how long that has been hidden there and what I did to trigger it. Then I come to my senses and try to input some numbers.

There's ten different buttons, each labeled one to nine; the tenth is the enter key. I can only input four numbers before having to hit the enter button. I try a random combination but nothing happens. Frowning, I enter several more to the same result. What am I supposed to do?

That's when I get my second shock. The screen on the device strapped to my wrist, the one I briefly fiddled with before ignoring, suddenly flickers on.

A humanoid figure is on screen. Standing in a circle of light in an otherwise darkened room, it's one of the most bizarre sights I've ever seen. The figure is dressed in heavy black robes and wears some sort of wide-rimmed black leather hat. But the most startling feature of all is the mask. It's pure white, with two frosted glass eyeholes and a long, curved, beak-like nose. It takes me only a moment to recognize it as a plague doctor's costume.

"Hello, Hayle. I'd like to take this opportunity to extend my greetings to you," The figure speaks with a highly-synthesized voice, like someone using a voice modulator. "There won't be much time for pleasantries once the game is afoot, so I believe that now is the proper time to make do with our introductions."

You'd think that I'd be surprised, shocked even. But after everything I've already been through, I take this new development in stride. It's not like things can get any weirder.

"I don't know who you are," I say lamely.

"I do not expect you to," The figure bows his head and gestures with a cane that I had somehow overlooked. "But that does not matter. My identity has no effect on what is about to happen."

"And what is about to happen?" I ask, trying my best to keep my voice level. How many stupid twists am I going to face?

"You, Hayle Saraceno, are here to play a game."

There's a long pause as I stop to take in his words. It's certainly not what I was expecting. In fact, it's so extraordinary out of place that I'm certain I misheard him. "I'm...going to play a game?"

The figure nods his head, the masked beak bobbing up and down. "Oh, yes. It is a very important game, one that has the power to change the fate of the world, but a game nonetheless."

I may not be dreaming, but I'm definitely crazy. This doesn't make sense. None of this makes any sense! The figure, uncaring to my disbelief, continues on. "The goal of the game is very simple. You, Hayle, must work alongside your teammates to survive until the end of game."

Teammates? That's odd, considering that I'm the only person in this room. Who could I possibly team with? And why is that the thing I'm pondering, out of everything that was just said? And why am I just accepting what he says?

"You kidnapped me!" I scream into the screen, my confusion boiling over into rage. "You stole me from my home! From my parents! Why the hell should I listen to anything you have to say?"

"Because you have no choice." The figure says it so calmly, so matter-of-factly, that I freeze in place. A cold sense of dread slithers up my spine as I realize that he's right. I'm trapped in a room with no way out. This person, whoever they are, could just leave me here until I die of dehydration or starvation.

The only way out is to do as he says.

"I see that you have come to the only logical conclusion," The figure strokes his mask with a gloved hand. "That is well. It would not do for you to dwell on the possibility of escape, for there is only one way that is possible." He pauses, as if for dramatic effect.

"And what is that?" I ask warily.

"You must win the game."

So there it is. For me to get home, for me to escape this warped, twisted place, I'm going to have to play some crazy game cooked up by a guy dressed like a plague doctor. What could possibly go wrong?

"What is the game?" I finally ask. "And how do I win it?"

"As I said before, the goal is very simple. All you have to do is survive."

I frown. Something has been bugging me this entire conversation. Well, something other than the complete and utter lack of sense or reason. "You keep saying I have to "survive". What does that mean?"

"You do not know?" The figure gives a little chuckle. "And here I thought it was obvious. Very well. I shall explain. You see, to survive the game you merely have to outlast the other competitors."

"Other competitors?" He did mention that I would be teamed with other people. "How many others are in this "game"?"

The figure waves a hand. "That is irrelevant at the moment. For your team to win, you will need to avoid losing, naturally. However, there is only one way to lose this game. One simple but concise way."

"Which is...?" I'm getting really sick of these dramatic pauses!

The figure spreads his hands. "You die."

There's a long silence as the gravity of these words begin to sink again. Die? You lose the game by dying? How...why...my mind cannot form words. It seems too unbelievable. But there is no doubt about it. This man, this crazy, unhinged, lunatic of a man is going to make me play a game where the cost of losing is death.

I almost puke.

"I see that you've realized the gravity of your situation." The figure nods its head. "That is good. There is little point to you trying to deny the facts, so it is pleasant to see you accept the truth of the matter."

No. No, I don't accept anything about this! But...he's right all the same. There isn't anything I can do. I don't know where I am, how he got me here, or how I could even begin to escape. This man, for all extents and purposes, has me in the palm of his hand.

When I speak, my voice is emotionless. "What do you want me to do?"

"I will give you the code to your room. Pay attention now, for I shan't repeat this," The figure takes a small pause, then continues, "2-0-5-2. Once you exit your bedroom you will meet with your fellow teammates. I will be in touch after those introductions. Farewell."

The screen clicks off. I stare at the empty screen for several long seconds. Did all of that really just happen? Am I truly stuck here, forced to play some madmans "game"? It seems impossible. This kind of stuff just doesn't happen in real life. But there's no denying what I just witnessed. No ignoring the truth.

Still, it is a lot to take in. I find myself shaking as I turn toward the number pad. How did this man kidnap me? Have my parents noticed? Surely they have. They must've contacted the police, and a search is already under way. I'm certain that they'll be arriving anytime now. I don't even need to play this game!

But...maybe I should. Just in case the police are delayed.

I focus on the number pad, inputting the code that the man gave me. 2052. There's a soft beeping sound and I hear a click. Is that the door unlocking? I put my hand on the knob and turn slightly. The knob moves. Yes, it has been unlocked.

A chill runs down my spine and I find myself sweating. What awaits me beyond this door? The man said that I would meet my teammates, but who are they? Have they been kidnapped like me? Or is it possible that he is lying? Well, I'll never find out my standing here.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open.

The Game Begins
I don't know what I expected to find on the other side of this door, but it definitely wasn't this.

I step into a large octagonal central space, punched with wide ceiling lights that cheerfully brighten the room. Clusters of simple couches and small chairs of muted colors fill the room, softening the sharp architectural lines.

What is this? I step further into the room, marvelling at the overwhelming sense of ordinary. It looks like some sort of communal living space or something. Kinda like how I imagined college would look.

That thought stops me cold. In the days prior to this occurrence, I had been thinking deeply about college and how it would change my life. And now I find myself here, in this place. That has to be a coincidence, right?

Suddenly weak in the knees, I stumble towards a oval table that sits right outside a small kitchen nook. I plop myself down onto a chair and try to control my breathing. Just what is going on? I want answers, dammit!

Unfortunately I know that none will be forthcoming.

Trying to take my mind off the despair, I turn my attention to my surroundings. Three doors lead off from the room proper, including the one I just came from. Each one has a number written on it in big, black print, from one to three. Mine has a "2". Why is that?

Bookshelves line the walls. A pair of steps lead down into the heart of the room, where large pillows and rugs surround a round rock fireplace. Like in the bedroom, there is no television or computer in sight. I bite my lip. I'd been hoping I'd be able to try and call for help through any such thing.

Click!

I spin around in my chair, nearly toppling out of it. That noise. I recognize it. It's the same as when my door unlocked! A door, the one labelled with a "3" slowly begins to swing open. I hold my breath, wondering what I'm about to see.

A girl steps out. She has a shock of red hair that tumbles past her shoulders and the most vivid blue eyes I've ever seen. She wears jean shorts, black boots, and a red shirt that leaves one of her shoulders bare.

Who is she?

"Um. Hello?" I rise from my chair, slowly crossing the room. Is this one of my "teammates" that the figure mentioned?

The girl is silent, staring at me with an unreadable expression. She must be terribly confused. Well, she's not the only one. I take a few more steps and then the unthinkable happens.

The girl darts forward, quicker than I thought possible, and grips me by the arm. I let out a shout of alarm as the girl hauls me forward. The next thing I know, I'm flipping through the air.

My back slams against the ground and a rush of air escapes my lips. But I don't have time to recover before the girl's forearm slams into my throat, cutting off my breath. Her face appears above mine, twisted into an angry snarl. "Who are you? Why did you kidnap me!"

I can't answer. I can't even breathe. I try to struggle free, but the girl has my body pinned down tight. My hands try to pry her forearm away, but I already feel myself weakening. Black spots appear on the edge of my vision, slowly encroaching...

The girl pulls her arm away. I cough and gag, taking grateful gulps of fresh, precious air. The girl steps off me, and I scramble into a sitting position. "What the hell!" I scream at her. "You could have killed me!"

She punches me in the face.

My vision explodes with light and, when I come back to my senses, I find myself lying face first on the ground. Something grips me by the collar and hauls me to my feet. I find myself staring into the girl's bright blue eyes.

"What are you planning?" She demands, shaking me, "why do you need me?"

"I-I don't know what the hell you're talking about!" It's hard to think. Everything is still kinda blurry.

"Oh? So do you want another punch?" She pulls back her fist.

"No! No, please, no!" I hold my hands up in submittal. I don't care that she's a girl; her punches hurt.

"Then start talking!"

"I don't know anything! Some man kidnapped me! I don't even know where I am!"

The girl suddenly lets go of my collar and I slump to the floor. I don't try to get up; I don't trust that my legs are steady enough. Instead, I stare up at the girl, blinking through tears I didn't know I had. "I don't know what's happening! I just woke up in some room and...and everything has gone crazy!"

"Huh." The girl turns to examine the room. "Guess you're not behind this after all." I don't know why she thought that in the first place, but I don't say anything. At least she's not punching me.

"So...what's your story?" I ask, massaging my throat. Damn, it hurts! This girl really did a number on me. Ignoring my question, she crosses the room towards Door 2 and swings it open, peeking inside. "It's identical," She says softly. I raise an eyebrow. Did her room look just like mine? I'm about to ask when she turns around and glares at me. "You!"

"Me?"

"Yes, you." She crosses her arms over her chest. "Are you my teammate that figure was speaking of?"

"Uh...I guess so?" Honestly, I don't know. I'd assume so, but I've learned that assuming anything here can be a really bad idea. I push myself to my feet, glad to find that I'm steady on them. "I already told you that I don't know what the hell is going on."

The girl scoffs. Now that we're standing face to face, I take this time to examine her more thoroughly. Her long red hair goes down to her shoulders and frames her face nicely. She has porcelain skin and black arched brows that rest over almond shaped eyes. And what a pair of eyes! They're a dazzling blue that I've never seen anywhere except in pictures of tropical waters.

She's lean but fit, with a slender figure that hides the strength she showed when fighting me. She's not conventionally beautiful. In fact, there's nothing conventional about her at all. She's odd, mystical, an anomaly.

She's also strangely alluring.

"It appears," She says, tapping one finger against her chin, "that you and I have arrived here with the same experience. That suggests that we've both been kidnapped. Do you have any idea why that would be?"

"No clue." I've already tried thinking about this and haven't come up with a single logical reason for why this would be happening.

"A pity."

She goes back to investigating the room. I watch her as she rummages through the cupboards, feeling completely and utterly confused. Who is this girl? My "teammate"? If so, what kind of game are we about to play? I remember the figure and his strange threats of death.

"Hey," I call out to the girl as she is dumping pots and pans out onto the floor, "what's your name?"

No answer.

I think that maybe she didn't hear me, so I repeat the question. Still no response. Ticked off, I try a different tactic. "I'm Hayle," I say, "Hayle Saraceno. I'm from Texas. Coleman, to be exact."

The girl gives up on the cupboards and crosses the room, brushing past me to to reach the couches. She proceeds to rip the cushions off and look underneath them. I watch her, dismayed. Is she purposely ignoring me?

"Are you going to speak to me or not?"

"Shouldn't you be more concerned about escaping?" The girl spins to face me so fast that I instinctively take a step back. "We have been kidnapped, in case you haven't noticed! A psychopath has just told us that he wants us to play his "game" where the losers die! And here you are, shooting the breeze and asking for names!"

God, her eyes are unnerving. They seem to stare right through me, into my soul itself. I shuffle my feet awkwardly. "What's the point? There's no secret escape route. The man wouldn't let us get away that easy."

The girl's eyes flash dangerously. For a moment I think I'm about to get punched. But then she sighs, flinging a cushion to the ground and collapsing onto it. "Unfortunately you are right. Searching for an exit is stupid."

"So...are you going to tell me your name?"

The girl snatches up a pillow and flings it at my chest. It bounces off harmlessly. "I take it that's a no?"

The girl glares at me.

"Okay, okay!" I hold my hands up in surrender. "But I have to call you something. How about Red?"

The girl opens her mouth to respond, but something happens before she can. Something that has us both spinning around to stare.

A door clicks open.

"Oh my! Isn't this quite the sight!" A girl steps out from the Number 3 door. Her hair is golden, descending down her back in ringlets, and she's dressed in powder blue from head to toe; a tight skirt, leggings, and a turtleneck sweater.

For a moment I just stare, completely stunned by this unexpected sight. The girl stares back, then suddenly looks away, her cheeks burning a bright red. I'm confused by the sudden bout of shyness but don't have any time to think about it before I'm being shoved aside.

"Looks like you're our third teammate!" The first girl, the redhead, plants herself right in front of the newcomer. Without a name for either girl, I instantly know that this is going to get confusing.

"I, um, I-I suppose so..." Blondie blushes a deeper red, clutching something to her chest. A sketchbook?

"Don't worry!" I push my way past Red—my nickname idea is suddenly looking very clever—so that I can get a closer look at the girl. "We're just as confused as you are!"

Red snorts. "Is that suppose to comfort her?"

I ignore her and focus on the new girl. "We should share stories," I tell her, "see if we had the same experience and whatnot."

"O-okay..." The girl seems a little hesitant, but she launches into a full explanation anyway. Apparently she woke up in her room with no idea how she got there, just like Red and I did. It's not a very enlightening tale and by the time she's done, I've learned nothing new.

"So we still don't know a thing!" Red grumbles as the girl finishes.

She blushes. "I-I'm sorry!"

"Don't be. It's not your fault!" A thought strikes me. "Oh, yeah. What's your name? I'm Hayle."

"Vika. I'm Vika!" We shake hands, then she turns towards Red, expectant. But the aggressive girl makes no move to introduce herself. Seriously, what's her problem? I know that the situation we're in is deeply troubling and more than a little unsettling, but I don't think unadulterated rudeness is the proper course of action here.

"Well, what now?" I ask the question that's on all of our minds. There are only three numbered doors in this room, and they've all been opened. There's no exits, no clues. I have no idea what to do from here.

Red snorts derisively. "We wait for our mysterious benefactor to give us further instructions, obviously."

For some reason that plan sounds...lacking. But I don't really have any ideas of my own, and I can't see a way out of this situation. I'm having a hard enough time just keeping myself from collapsing with despair. What if the man just leaves us here for the rest of our lives?

"When does the game start?"

I pause, surprised to hear Vika speaking. I had almost forgotten that she was even here. She's so frail and delicate looking that I never expected her to take the lead in a conversation. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"W-well, that is what he said," The girl blushes, her face turning a crimson red. "The masked man, I mean. He said we would play a game, did he not?"

"Yeah, you're right." He did say that. It's actually been on my mind this entire time. What kind of game does he expect us to play, exactly?

"He said that we could die in the game," Red has pulled away from us and is standing by the #2 door, her arms crossed. "So Russian Roulette, maybe?"

Vika gasps. "No! That would be horrid!"

"No," I shake my head.

She turns to me, aghast. "Do not tell me you don't think that game is horrid!"

"No, that's not what I meant. We won't be playing Russian Roulette."

Red frowns, raising an arched eyebrow. "And how, exactly, do you figure that?"

"We're a team, remember? You don't need teams in Russian Roulette." Admittedly, I know little about the game to begin with, but I do know that teams wouldn't make sense for it. "And besides, do you really think he kidnapped us all just so that we could play such a simple game?"

Red's lips twitch. Whether in a smile or a frown, I don't know. "No," she says. "I didn't think that would be the answer. I was merely thinking out loud." I don't know if I believe that, but I'm not about to put my doubts to words—my face still hurts from the first time she punched me.

With little else to do, the three of us continue brainstorming ideas. Vika suggests that the masked man might be holding us for ransom, but Red cuts that idea down right away. I find myself agreeing with her. What would anyone expect to gain from ransoming me? I mean, my family is pretty well off, but we're not rich or anything like that. I doubt we could even afford any ransom, even though I know that my parents would pay it in a heartbeat.

"Whyever are you so adamant we're not being held ransom?" Vika asks Red. She's truly caught up in her own idea.

"Because there's nobody out there who cares if I'm gone!" Red shoots back.

Everyone goes silent.

I don't know what to say. Nobody cares she's missing? What does that mean? I stare at Red, looking for answers, but she just glares at Vika and turns her back on us.

"I-I'm sorry!" Vika stutters. Once again, her face turns a bright shade of red. "I didn't mean to offend! Truly, I didn't!"

"Shut up."

"That's uncalled for! I was merely—"

"No, shut up! Don't you hear that?"

When we all go quiet, I do. It's a soft, musical sound with high, sweet notes. It reminds me of a music box my mom had back home. But where is it coming from? When I raise my hand to scratch my head, I see it.

The screen on my bracelet has turned back on. The mysterious figure is back.

"Hello, Beta Team!" The figure bows to us. He's still dressed in that plague doctor costume and is still in the same dark room. "I hope that the formalities have gone well?"

We all react differently. Red curses, telling him where he should stick those formalities. Vika looks troubled. I merely frown. I've already accepted that this is happening—the only thing left to do is figure exactly what is happening.

The figure claps his gloved hands together. "Excellent, excellent. I am sure you will all get along splendidly. But before we get any further, I believe that I should introduce myself. I am Dr. Black and I will be your host for this game."

Dr. Black. It's not as if I was expecting him to have a grand reveal of a secret identity or anything, but I still feel...let down, I guess you could say. I mean, Dr. Black? Did he even try to think of something original or cool?

"Please, sir!" Vika practically has tears in her eyes. "You must let us go! I am quite certain that my father would pay you handsomely if you were to return me unharmed."

"Money is irrelevant."

Vika gasps, deflating like a balloon. I didn't think that bribery would work, but it was definitely worth a shot. Red, however, begins to curse again.

"If you don't want money," I say, cutting her off, "then what do you want?"

"I believe I've already told you. I want you all to play my game."

A shiver runs down my spine. It's not new information, but the single track mind of this person is...frightening. How much resources did they expend kidnapping us? And what kind of payoff do they expect? I want to ask, but I know that I wouldn't get a straight answer.

"What is your game?"

Dr. Black spreads his hands, chuckling softly. "That is what I was about to tell you, before all these interruptions."

This time we all fall silent, even Red. Dr. Black waits a few seconds, then nods his beaked head. "Very good. You are learning. That is very good."

"Are you going to explain or not?"

"Patience, Hayle. Patience. Good things come to those who wait." Somehow I don't think any good things are coming my way. Dr. Black rubs a hand along the length of his mask, staring at us through the screen with those ghostly glass eyes. "My explanation, however, will most likely not meet your expectations."

"Try me."

"Very well. Now listen closely, for I shan't repeat myself. In this game there will be thirty players, Challengers, if you will. These Challengers will be divided into ten groups of three. It will be these teams that compete against one another for victory. You three, by the by, are Beta Team."

Thirty? There are thirty of us trapped here? I glance around the room, half-expecting to see twenty-seven other people hiding about. How in the world did Dr. Black manage this?

"What kind of game will we be playing?" Red demands. I sigh. As blunt as ever, I see.

"There will be many variations and rules to my game. Perhaps you could call them multiple games inside a game? Yes, games. I like the sound of that."

"Get to the point!"

"Patience, I am getting there. You see, the three of you will need to progress through a series of games to survive until the end. These games will vary wildly in rules and regulations. They will not all be the same and you will need different strategies to win each one."

I exchange a glance with Red. Judging by the look on her face she understands as little of this as I do. Vika rubs her head, looking absolutely lost.

Dr. Black sighs. "Yes, I thought that it would be too difficult for you to comprehend. I hoped otherwise but, well, hope is not reality."

"Are you calling us stupid?"

"I would never. However, I do believe that a hands-on experience is necessary. Observe."

The wall on the far side of the room, one of the two without a door, suddenly changes color. The tan flickers into a deep black, then slowly begins to fill with images. That's when it hits me. It's not a wall at all, it's a screen!

The screen transitions into a view of a room nearly identical to the one we're in. It has the same couches, the same chairs, and even the same fireplace. But most alarming is what sits in the center of the room, standing in nearly the exact spots we're in.

People. Three people.

"Wh-what are we looking at?" I gape at the screen. The trio of people don't seem to see us; they're currently in the midst of what looks like an argument.

"You are currently viewing Alpha Team," Dr. Black's voice says from my bracelet. "They can not yet see you, however."

"What are you planning?" Red demands. If I wasn't scared out of my mind I'd probably roll my eyes. Does she really think he'll answer that?

"In due time. All in due time. Now, if you excuse me, I must go speak with our guests."

The screens on our bracelets flick off. Dr. Black is gone. It doesn't take long, however, before I see where he has gone. Inside the screen the three people raise their arms and begin staring at their own bracelets. No doubt Dr. Black is speaking with them.

But who are they?

I take this opportunity to study them further. They seem to be around the same age as me, Red, and Vika. That would put them somewhere in their late teens. There's two guys and one girl. My eyes are naturally drawn to the girl. She is tall and athletic, with a muscular body type and long brown hair. Her face is drawn back into a glare as she looks at her bracelet. Clearly she does not like Dr. Black. Not that I can blame her.

As I move my attention to the two boys, I notice that they're almost complete opposites. One is short, with curly light brown hair and darkly tanned skin. The other is tall and blond, with the palest skin I've ever seen. The two of them stand side-by-side, watching the girl converse with Dr. Black.

"Who do you think they are?" I ask Vika and Red.

"Who cares?" Red doesn't take her eyes off the screen. No doubt she is still thinking about how to get information out of Dr. Black.

"W-well, I'd say that they've probably been kidnapped like us," Vika says, watching Red closely. Is she afraid that the girl will scold her?

I open my mouth to agree with her when the musical chimes begin and once again Dr. Black is on our bracelets. The man doesn't even give us time to process this sudden appearance. "I believe you wished to know what forms the games world take," He speaks briskly, barely pausing. "Well, here is your chance. The three of you are about to partake in the very first game of this program."

I exchange an uneasy glance with Vika. Red, however, only laughs. "Well?" She sneers into her screen. "Are you going to explain the rules of this "game" or are we just going to have to try and guess?"

"Patience, please," Dr. Black holds both hands up, as if trying to calm an angry dog. "If you would only remain quiet and listen, I will explain everything about this game. Now, do you believe you can do that?"

Red opens her mouth only to snap it shut, scowling. Dr. Black nods. "Very good, very good. It appears you are learning, that is good. Now, this particular game, which will hereby be called the Decision Game, is very simple. The three of you will merely have to make a decision."

I'm not going to lie. That does sound simple enough. But anything can be simple when stripped down to its barest essence. I'm more than certain that this "Decision Game" won't be nearly as simple as Dr. Black would have us believe.

"What decision will we be making, sir?" Vika asks. I frown. How can that girl stay so polite?

Dr. Black is silent for a moment, the frosted glass eyes of his mask twinkling ominously. "Your decision is simple. You will choose who dies."

Silence.

It feels like I've been punched in the gut. I reel backwards, heart throbbing with a fear more intense than any other I've ever felt. Surely I didn't hear him correctly. Surely he didn't just say that we would be deciding who dies.

"E-excuse me?" Vika stumbles, looking just as shocked as I feel. Red, however, merely throws her head back and laughs. I have no idea what she finds so funny; I'm having trouble merely breathing.

"I thought you said we were a team?" I finally say, my voice low and hoarse. "Now you want us to kill one another?"

On screen, Dr. Black tilts his head. "Hmm. I believe you misunderstand. In the Decision Game you will not be deciding who dies on your team. No, you will be deciding who dies on Alpha Team."

I blink twice, then lick my lips. "I...don't understand."

Dr. Black sighs. "The three of you will each have one vote. You will be presented with three options; each option being a member of Alpha Team. You will be given a period of time to think over and discuss your decision, after which you will then proceed to vote. Whichever member of Alpha Team that receives the most amount of votes will be killed. Tell me, Hayle, do you understand that?"

I do. It hurts me like a stab to the heart, but I do. I understand what he is asking of me. Asking of us all. He wants to kill someone, one of those three teenagers. He wants us to become murderers.

"How will they be killed?" Red asks quietly.

"Hmmm?"

"How will the voted be killed?"

"Oh, they'll be injected with a lethal posion via their bracelets. It'll be quite painless, so you needn't worry about any undue suffering."

There's another long silence. I shift my feet, suddenly feeling like I'm being suffocated. How did I get trapped in this nightmare? Then, just as I am about to speak, the unexpected happens.

Vika lets out a loud, primal scream. She smashes a fist against her bracelet, punching it repeatedly."You're insane!" She howls at Dr. Black. "You are completely and utterly INSANE! I will not vote! I will not kill anyone! I refuse! Do you hear me? I REFUSE!"

She goes silent, swaying unsteadily, chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. I stare in stupified shock. I didn't think Vika capable of such tenacity. She seemed so quiet and soft-spoken that this outburst just...stunned me.

"Refusing to vote is a viable choice," Dr. Black continues to speak normally, not even changing his tone of voice. It's as if Vika's screaming never even happened. "However, that choice has its own drawbacks. If you neglect to vote, then you will be injected with poison. In short, refusal to vote is a vote against yourself."

So those are our options. Kill someone else or kill ourselves. I feel my mind locking up, seizing in place. None of this feels real. It's all so...otherworldly.

Vika lets out a quiet sob, sinking to the floor. Red stares at the wall in silence, apparently thinking. I can't even do that. I can only stand here doing...nothing. What's the point?

"Oh, one more thing."

In an instant my gaze snaps back to my bracelet, where Dr. Black waits. He holds up a single gloved finger. "I forgot to mention that, while you will be voting to kill a member of Alpha Team, they will also be voting to kill one of you."

For a long moment no one reacts. My mind can barely process the words. They...will vote to kill one of us? Kill...kill. Kill?

"You bastard!" Red snarls at her screen.

Dr. Black wags a finger. "That is patently false. My parents were married before I was conceived, let alone born."

Red lets loose with a litany of curses, screaming her defiance. Vika is still curled up on the floor. I, however, stand apart. I feel cold, empty. My life hinges on the prospect of three teenagers in the room across from us. Three people who are barely more than kids will decide which one of us will die.

Is life really so cheap?

"The Decision Game has begun. I will give you all time to discuss your impending decision. Until then, farewell."

The screen flicks off.

"Come back here, you bastard!" Red screams at the ceiling, to no avail. While my teammates rage and sob, I turn my attention to the far wall, the wall that lets us look in on Alpha Team.

The three of them seem to be handling things remarkably better than we are; the girl is pointing at her bracelet, waving animatedly and saying something I can't hear to the brown haired boy. The blond boy, meanwhile, stands off to the side looking...bored, of all things.

Which one of us will they choose? I find myself morbidly fascinated with the conundrum. How does one decide to kill one person out of a group of complete strangers? How am I supposed to decide?

"We mustn't play this game!"

I turn to see Vika on her feet, wiping away tears with her sleeve. "Dr. Black is bluffing. He wouldn't really kill all three of us. He wouldn't have a game then, would he?"

"He said that there were thirty of us here," I say numbly. "Pretty sure he can afford to kill three."

Vika sniffs, but to her credit she doesn't cry. "I...I don't know what to do then. Surely we can't vote to kill someone!"

"Why not?"

We both spin to see Red glaring at us, hands planted on her hips. She takes one hand and jerks a finger at the screen, at the other trio. "They're going to kill one of us, so why the hell shouldn't we kill one of them?"

"We don't know that..." Vika begins, only to be cut off by Red's mocking laugh.

"Oh, yes we do! Are you really dumb enough to believe that they'll throw their own lives away just so that they can continue to delude themselves into thinking they're "good" people?"

"So what do you suggest we do?" I ask, finding that I feel oddly detached from this whole situation. I should be just as concerned as Vika, but for some reason I feel...I don't know. I don't know how to explain it.

"We play the game, of course," Red says. "What else? I'm going to play the game and hope that those morons over there decide to off someone else."

"One of us, you mean."

Red scowls but says nothing more. The realization hits me like a stone. Even if that other team—Alpha Team, Dr. Black called them—decides to spare me, that just means that they've decided to kill Red or Vika instead.

I stare blankly at two girls. I barely know either of them, but the thought of them dying...

"There has to be another way!"

"There isn't. We play the game or we die. There's no middle ground."

She's right. I already knew that, of course, but hearing her say so aloud is just the final nail in the coffin. One of our coffins. Those three teenagers are going to kill one of us. I should feel enraged, but I can't muster the emotion. They have as little choice in the matter as we do.

"Wh-who are we going to choose?"

Vika's question snaps me out of my thoughts. I turn to face her. "What are you talking about?"

She gestures limply at Alpha Team. "If we absolutely have to choose, then, well, who do we choose?"

Before I can answer, our datapads begin to resonate with that familiar music. Surprised, I look down to see that Dr. Black has reappeared on our bracelet screens. "Greetings to one and all. I would like to inform you that it is now Decision Time. You will have ten minutes to lock in your choices. Remember, refusing to vote will result in your demise. Good luck."

Dr. Black blinks off screen. But instead of turning off, the screen instead switches to a new image. There's three pictures showing three teenagers, obviously Alpha Team, and above each picture is a small red button engraved with the word "Vote". Beneath each picture is a series of text.

"What is this?" Red demands, scowling at her bracelet.

I study the text underneath the pictures, surprised to find that it's basically a bio for each teenager. The girl is named Ophyra Grate, and she's a high school senior from San Diego, California. She's also apparently a champion martial artist which, looking at her muscular, toned body, I can believe.

The brown-haired boy is Jackson Sparks. He's a high school student from Stanford, California. The only other information about him is that his parents are elementary school teachers and that he's "lazy and dedicated to gaining vengeance on those who've wronged him." Which, admittedly, is creepy.

I finally turn my attention to the bio of the blond boy. But I frown when I see the information presented. Or, more accurately, the lack of information. His name is Boone Dixon and he hails from Montana. That's it. There's nothing else. It doesn't even say whether he goes to high school or not.

Frowning, I look up to see Red tapping away at her screen. Surely she's not already voting? I'm about to ask her when I remember how hard she punched me earlier.

"Do they have the same information on us?" I ask instead. "Like, are they reading our bios?"

"Look for yourself, stupid!" Red points at the wallscreen, where I can see Alpha Team intently studying their bracelets. Except for the blond boy, Boone. He's just leaning against the wall, casually examining his fingernails.

How can he be so calm?

"What did you guys vote?" Vika wraps her arms around herself, seemingly trembling with fear or anticipation. Probably both.

"Why the hell should I tell you?" Red snaps.

Vika is taken back. "W-well, why wouldn't you tell me? I mean, we're deciding on a person's life! If we coordinated we could—"

"We could what? Kill someone as a group?" Red sneers. "No thanks. I've already cast my vote and couldn't care less what you two dolts choose."

"Well, I voted Ophyra," Vika ignores the barbed insult, turning to face Alpha Team. "Something about her posture just...bothers me. It's almost as if this game excites her."

"Wait." I blink stupidly. "You've both already voted?"

Their only response is to give me blank looks. I'm stunned. I mean, I'm not surprised that Red was so casual and flippant about voting to kill someone, but I had expected more out of Vika. Wasn't she just talking about the sanctity of life?

"Five minutes remaining."

An automated voice beeps out of the bracelet. Red smirks at me. "Better get voting, Hayle. Don't want to die now, do you?"

I feel myself break out into a sweat. Oh, I am not good under pressure. I turn to my bracelet, stomach heaving. Vote to kill someone? How am I suppose to decide? I gaze at the three faces, feeling pity mixed with disgust at myself.

I can't pick Ophyra. Vika already chose her, so if I did the same that would mean she'd receive two of the three votes. Basically, if I vote her she dies. And I'm not about to be the deciding vote on who dies!

That leaves me with only two options; Jackson and Boone. Jackson and his whole revenge thing freaks me out, but Boone and his carefree demeanor is just as unsettling. I find myself unsure on how to decide. Which one did Red vote?

"Ten seconds."

Not good! Not enough time!

"Nine seconds."

I stare at the two faces, unable to make a choice.

"Eight seconds."

I don't want to kill anyone. I don't!

"Seven seconds."

Taking a deep breath, I reach out and hit a button. I only hope Red didn't make the same choice. Suddenly weak in the knees, I stumble towards one of the couches and drop myself onto it. I sink into the cushions, hiding my face behind my hands.

Did I really just do that? Did I really just vote to kill someone?

"Your vote has been registered. Thank you for playing!" A pleasant computerized, feminine voice chirps out of my datapad.

I feel the couch vibrate as someone sits next to me. I remove my hands and see Vika watching me, her blue eyes swimming with concern. "Who did you vote?" She asks softly.

My voice is little more than a rasp as I answer. "Boone."

Vika nods. She looks so understanding. Too understanding. Unable to look at her, I turn to face the wall that shows us Alpha Team. They're all standing in a line, staring at their bracelets. Maybe they're waiting for the results. The horrid, horrid results.

"The Decision Game has come to an end!" Dr. Black's voice blares out my bracelet, but when I look down all I see is the pictures of Alpha Team. "And, now that the game has concluded, I will show you the results!"

The screen transitions to show a sparkling silver font displaying the words "Alpha Team Results". Underneath the words the picture of Jackson appears. "Jackson Sparks," Dr. Black intones, "has received...zero votes."

A large white zero appears under his face. I feel my chest tighten as, beside me, Vika gasps. If Jackson didn't receive any votes, then that means Red voted for either Ophyra or Boone. Meaning...Vika or I just helped kill someone.

"Ophrya Grates..." Dr. Black continues on with that same lifeless tone as Ophyra's picture joins Jackson's. "Received a total of...two votes."

"No!" Vika leaps to her feet, eyes wide with horror. She wheels to face Red. "Why didn't you tell me who you voted? We could have avoided this!"

Red shrugs. "Avoided what? Someone was going to die either way!"

The two continue to bicker, but I'm no longer listening. My attention has honed in on Alpha Team and their own reactions to the results. Ophyra is staring blankly at her bracelet, seemingly stunned into silence. Jackson is screaming, his face red with anger. Boone...he's standing apart from the others, hands in his pockets as he watches with an indifferent expression.

"As Ophyra has received majority of the votes," Dr. Black is once again speaking, his voice still completely emotionless, "that means she will be executed. Immediately. Do you have any final words, Ophyra?"

The girl looks up. Her face is pallid, soaked with sweat. She opens her mouth, but before she can even speak her body begins to tremble. Her eyes roll into her head as her limbs begin to jerk rapidly. Then, in what feels like a matter of seconds, she collapses. She hits the hardwood floor with a thump, body now motionless.

She does not get back up.

"Oh, God!" Vika screams. "She's dead! No! Oh, God, no!"

I can only stare. Stare at the body of the girl who, only moments ago, was hale and healthy. Now she's dead. And for what? Why? What does Dr. Black get out of this? What could he possibly achieve?

"And now, it is time for Beta Team's results."

My brain stops working. Thoughts die before they even begin. What if...How...me? What if they voted me? I stare silently as, all at once, our pictures appear on screen. Then, under our faces and names, the numbers. The votes.

Hayle Saraceno 1

Arlyssa Valiante 1

Victoria Caprae 1

I have no words. No reaction. I stare at the results, dumbfounded and dismayed. We...we all received a vote? It's a tie? But that means...that means...

"We're all going to die..." Vika says softly. Her quiet, somber tone is contrasted by her previous frantic panic. She drops to her knees, eyes swimming with tears as she looks at the votes that sealed our fate.

Even Red doesn't have anything to say. She gapes at the screen, hands on her head and mouth hanging open, as if she was about to say something before seeing the results.

"It appears that it is a tie!" Dr. Black's voice comes through our bracelets. "A truly remarkable turn of events. Yes, I did not envision that such a thing would occur. Very well. Since it is a tie, that means...no one on Beta Team will be killed."

What?

Wait. What!

My head snaps up. Eyes swivel around to find Dr. Black, but he is not on screen. Did I hear him correctly? Have I gone insane with grief? Or did he really say it? Did he really say that no one will die?

"I see that you are all confused," My bracelet screen flickers to finally show Dr. Black. He is pacing around a dark room, hands clasped about his cane. "Allow me to clear up this...misunderstanding. You see, the rules were that the member of Beta Team who received the most votes would be executed. However, seeing as you each received one vote that, in effect, prevented any one of you from receiving the most votes."

I don't know if I completely understand what he's saying, but I don't care. I'm alive! I'm not going to be killed! Laughing with a sudden, insane glee, I leap from the couch and fist bump the air.

I'm so glad, in fact, that I'm utterly shocked when I see the look of pure horror on Vika's face. I halt my celebration and look around. The room is unchanged. "Uh, what's wrong?" I ask her.

"We could have saved her," She murmurs, "we could have saved her!"

"Um. Who are you..." I trail off as I follow her gaze and see Ophyra's body. Jackson is kneeling beside it while Boone watches from a distance. Saved her...it hits me like a punch in the gut. If we had all voted someone different, if we had all coordinated...

We could have prevented her death.

I feel insanely guilty, even though there is no reason for it. After all, I didn't vote for her. I was the only one on my team who didn't. But still...I could have done something. Couldn't I?

"There would have been no point!" Red scoffs. She seems to have recovered from her brief bout of shock and is now at the lone unmarked door, jiggering its knob.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"Do you really think that this is the end of Dr. Black's "games", Hayle? Do you believe that, just because we survived this one, we're all in the clear?"

I have no answer for her. I just stare blankly ahead, blindsided by what should have been obvious from the start. Then, seemingly reading my thoughts, Dr. Black speaks from the bracelet. "Dear Arlyssa is quite right, you know. The games aren't over. Oh no. Far from it. In fact, they've just begun."

Humanity's Cost
This isn't happening. This can't be happening. I'm not trapped here by some crazy psycho,  forced to play sick games for reasons unexplained. I'm not completely and utterly unaware of anything and everything that I could do to escape. I'm not...

I am.

I stare at the wall, feeling sick. My body trembles and my legs feel like jelly. How long will this continue? How long will we have to play?

"When does the next game begin?" Red—Arlyssa?—whirls to glare at the ceiling, hands on her hips.

Dr. Black chuckles. It's a creepy enough sound on its own, but its amplified a hundredfold by the fact that it echoes on all three of our bracelets. "My, aren't you eager? Unfortunately, dear Arlyssa, you will have to wait a bit for the next game. These things take time, you know."

Arlyssa scowls. "The hell with that! You expect us just to sit in this room and wait?"

"No. Of course not. You will be let out into...the playing field. There, you will wait. Of course, there will be plenty of danger and thrills out there for you. More than enough, I assure you."

Oh, I do not like the sound of that! I open my mouth to protest, but the glare Arlyssa sends my way has me snapping it shut again. "What will we be doing out there?" She demands.

Dr. Black's reply is the vocal equivalent of a shrug. "Whatever you wish. Until the next game begins, of course." Then, just like that, the screen flicks off.

Of course. That cryptic answer didn't explain anything! I turn to my two allies, not at all surprised by their demeanours. Arlyssa is scowling and punching the wall. Vika, however, is sitting on the couch, arms wrapped tightly around herself. "What are we going to do?" She speaks aloud, though it doesn't seem like her words are addressed to anyone. "Are we just supposed to sit around and...wait for us all to die?"

"We'll play his games," Arlyssa growls. "For now. But first chance I get, I'm blowing this joint."

Her words strike a chord in my memory. A voice...on the phone! I nearly gasp at my stupidity. How did I forget all about that? That voice, whoever it was, had warned me about this. Told me that I had to escape. Who were they and how did they know about Dr. Black and his games?

I'm about to turn and ask Arlyssa if she received a similar call when I remember more of the mysterious callers words. Do not tell anyone. I didn't understand it at first, because I was all alone, but now...

I watch Arlyssa as she futility tries to punch her way through the screen that used to show us Alfa Team but is now just blank. Why can't I tell my teammates? Is it because Dr. Black might overhear? Or is there a more nefarious reason?

Lost in these troubling thoughts, I barely notice the wall behind me as it slides open. "What the hell?"

Hearing my shout, Arlyssa spins around. Her eyes widen in surprise as she watches the wall, the entire wall, slide open like a screen door. Beyond it lies a dark tunnel, like the dark maw of a sleeping monster.

For several long moments I just stand there, stunned. "Th-that must be the way we're supposed to go," I say, nervously scratching my head.

Arlyssa grunts. "Obviously."

Despite this, none of us make a move. I shift my weight from leg to leg, rooted to the spot. That tunnel is just so dark and ominous. Who knows what lies at the end? Knowing Dr. Black, it must be something horrible.

"Are...are we going to enter?" Vika steps up beside me, apparently recovered from her latest bout of melancholy. Before I can answer, Arlyssa pushes past us. The girl marches right up into the tunnel and disappears inside without even a glance backwards.

I exchange looks with Vika. "Well, I guess that answers it."

I force my body into motion, walking towards the tunnel. There's nothing to fear. Yes, Dr. Black has proven to be maniacal psychopath, but he also hasn't yet done anything that implies he would personally harm us. So far it seems like he'd rather us kill each other. Which is still troubling, true, but it makes me feel safer about traversing this tunnel.

At least, a little safer.

Vika follows me into the tunnel, staying close by my side. Every few feet there's an overhead fluorescent light. Each one offers only a meager, flickering light, but it's just enough to see by.

The walls seem to be made out of some sort if sheet metal, and the ground is very clearly sloping upwards. I can't help but wonder what that inplies. Are we heading for the roof? Or have we been underground this whole time?

There is no sound but for our footsteps and Vika's soft breathing. There's no sign of Arlyssa, but I'm not worried. The tunnel is completely straight, so she could only have gone one way.

Soon we're stepping out of the tunnel and into a spherical room. Arlyssa stands in the center, hands on her hips as she studies a pair of doublewide doors. To her side, set against the leftmost wall, is a small table that holds a trio of bags.

"What is this place?" Vika asks as I stop to take it all in. The austere severity is perhaps a bit too overwhelming. Besides for the aforementioned door and table, there is absolutely nothing in the room. The floor is concrete while the ceiling and walls are the same sheet metal as the tunnel.

"About time you arrived!" Arlyssa turns to glare at us.

I raise an eyebrow. "You couldn't possibly have been here for more than a few minutes!"

"More than enough time for me to get impatient!" She crosses over to the table and smacks her palm against it. "Now get over here, you dolts!"

Curious to what has her so riled up, I step up to the table. There's a small sheet of paper pinned to it that reads "Full Team Required". I frown. "What is this for?"

In answer, musical chimes sound out.

Instinctively I look to my bracelet, where Dr. Black has just reappeared on screen. He claps his gloved hands together. "Congratulations, Bravo Team. It appears you have reached the Door of Beginnings."

The what? I blink stupidly, looking around to see if anyone else understood what he just said. But they both look just as confused as I do, so I turn back to the screen. "Past that door," Dr. Black continues, "you will find the Playing Field. That is where you will spend most of your time. That is also where you will most likely encounter the other teams for the first time."

I still have no idea what any of that means. But I do understand the part about the other teams. We've already seen one, Alfa. How many others are there?

"I do not wish to bog you down with long, meandering exposition, so I will keep this brief. As the goal of this game is to be the last team standing, outside in the Playing Field is where you will have one simple goal: Kill the other teams."

I nearly choke on my shock. Beside me, Vika gasps. "What! You can't be serious!" Kill the other teams? Did he seriously just say that? Images of Ophrya's body thumping to the ground flashes in my mind. Does he really want us to repeat that atrocious act?

"No!" Vika shakes her head, blonde curls bouncing. "No! I refuse! I won't kill anyone!"

Dr. Black chuckles. "You won't have to. You see, while it is perfectly fine to kill the other teams whilst out in the Playing Field, it is not required. You may, if you wish, simply try to carve out a living and wait for the next Event Hub to open."

I feel like he is intentionally trying to confuse us by throwing out such contradictory statements. I have no idea what he stands to gain from such a thing, but I can think of no other reason for his bizarre claims.

"So which is it?" Arlyssa demands. "Do we kill the other teams or not?"

"That decision, dear Arlyssa, is entirely up to you. Just keep in mind that, just because you will not try to kill the other teams, does not mean that they won't try to kill you." He's joking, right? No way that anyone would actually try and kill us. No way.

"Now, with that brief explanation out of the way, let us discuss the bags you see before you."

My eyes swivel up to the table, where three identical bags rest. Black, sturdy, and with a tactical look that reminds me of the military, they don't seem to be anything special. I cautiously poke one with a finger. "These bags?"

"Indeed. Those bags. Now, let me explain. Out in the Playing Field you will be required to scavenge for supplies. There will be no kitchens, no predetermined meal times. You will be subject to the weather and every other natural phenomena that nature throws at you. In short, you will be surviving in the wilderness."

Great. Just what I wanted. A camping trip where I may or may not have to worry about some psychopaths trying to kill me.

"I realize, however, that you all may not be accustomed to such endeavours. That is why I have prepared these bags, once for each of you. Inside you will find some supplies that will make your initial efforts to survive a little easier. I should warn you, however, that along with the standard rations, each bag contains different, unique items. Choose wisely."

There is a short pause. "Once you have chosen, the Door of Beginnings will open and you will be released into the Playing Field. There you will have to try and survive until my next announcement. Good luck."

The screen clicks off.

"Wait!" I shoot a hand out to try and flick it back on, even though I know that it is futile. ""You barely explained anything!"

"And he's gone," Arlyssa rubs her forehead. "What a confusing mess this is."

"I won't kill anyone!" Vika stamps her feet. "I will not!"

"Can it, Blondie. We need to think." As Vika gasps in shock, Arlyssa turns to me. "Looks like we're going to need to choose a bag. I get first pick." Then, before anyone can even respond, she reaches out and grabs the bag in the center. A moment later I grab the bag on the right. Vika, still sulky, takes the last bag.

"What is even in these?" She asks.

"Dunno." I set mine back on the table and unzip it. The first item I pull out is a canteen. Not surprising. If Dr. Black was being honest and we really are going to be surviving in the wilderness, then water is going to be at a premium.

Reaching deeper into the pack, I find several energy bars and a few bags of roasted nuts. Folded up beneath these is an item I recognize from late-night infomercials; a space blanket. Apparently it's a special blanket that helps you retain body heat or something like that.

"Looks like we have similar items," Vika says. I look up, surprised to find her next to me, going through her own bag. "Our food and water supply is the same, but instead of that blanket I have these." She deposits a small plastic bag on the table. I peer at, noticing the small cotton balls inside.

"What are those?"

"They're cotton balls," Arlyssa says from where she stands behind us. "Looks like they're covered in petroleum jelly, which makes me think they're meant for starting fires."

Vika and I turn to look at her.

"What?" She shrugs. "I'm not an idiot; I know things."

"That isn't the kind of thing most people know," I say. Then again, neither are space blankets.

"What do you have, Arlyssa? Vika begins to question her as I return to checking my bag. I'm half-listening to the conversation, so I'm shocked when I see the next thing I pull out.

A knife.

"--same food as you and a poncho. I--Huh!" Arlyssa stares at the knife, eyes going wide. Vika, turning to see what got her attention, lets out a gasp when she spots it.

"No! Put it away! Put it away!"

"Relax, it's not a weapon." Arlyssa reaches out and yanks the knife from my hands. I think about complaining, but shut that idea down when I remember the punch. She spins it around, admiring the blade.

"How is a knife not a weapon?"

"Because it's not just meant for killing, you blonde bimbo!" Arlyssa gives the knife one last look over then hands it back to me. "It's a survival knife, and that means it's designed for work such as setting traps, cutting branches, carving wood, and skinning animals. Not killing people."

I study the blade, noticing its length is at least seven inches. I'm not an expert on weapons or things like that, but I'm pretty sure a knife this big could very easily be turned into a weapon.

Is that what Dr. Black intends? Does he want us to kill each other with weapons like this? Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, I'm sure that this knife will come in handy, especially since I notice that there's a compass set in the cap of the handle.

"Did you two get anything like this?" I ask, storing the knife into a sheath I pull out of the bag.

Vika shakes her head. Arlyssa, however, grins and reaches into her own bag. "Behold! A true weapon!"

She pulls out a revolver.

Vika lets out a squeal, ducking behind me and clutching my arm. I simply gape as Arlyssa waves the gun around. "Watch where you're pointing that!"

"I'm not going to shoot you, moron!" Despite her remarks Arlyssa carefully lowers the revolver until it's pointed at the floor. I breath a silent sigh of relief. The last thing I want is to get accidentally shot by someone who is supposed to be my teammate.

"I-is that real?" Vika peeks out from behind my arm.

Arlyssa shrugs. "Only one way to find out." She raises the gun and turns to aim down the tunnel.

"Wait! Don't--"

Too late. Arlyssa pulls the trigger and there's an ear-splitting Crack! as a bullet explodes down the tunnel. Halfway down it slams into the wall and begins to ricochet back and forth.

Vika yelps and ducks under the table as I back off, cursing Arlyssa for her carelessness. She only laughs. "Yep, it's real alright. Looks like it only has six bullets, though. Maybe I should have saved that one."

The bullet finally loses momentum, dropping to the floor and skidding away somewhere in the darkness of the tunnel. Heart beating like a drum, I find myself glaring at Arlyssa. "Are you insane? You never shoot a gun indoors! Even I know that!"

Arlyssa opens her mouth, probably to snap off a retort, but before she can even form any words she's interrupted by a long, slow grinding sound. At first I fear that her reckless shot has somehow made the ceiling collapse, but then Vika points behind me. "Oh! The door is opening!"

The door, the one Dr. Black called the "Door of Beginnings" has begun to swing open. The wide doors take a ponderous amount of time, grating against the concrete floor as they do. I blink my eyes as a new source of light shines through the newly formed gap. Sunlight?

A minute later, the doors are fully open. A cool gust of wind blows in, rustling our clothes and bringing in the strong scent of pine. As we slowly approach, soft yellow light envelopes us.

"Trees!" Vika claps happily as I step outside.

Tall pine trees surround me on all sides. The ground is soft and covered with nettles and pinecones, a handful resting just beside my feet. Spinning around, I can see that I've just exited what looks like the mouth of a metal bunker, one that is completely built right into the side of a cliffside.

"We're on a mountain," Arlyssa says, stepping out beside me. She folds her arms across her chest and gazes out above us where, true to her words, I can see the knotted peaks of a mountain range.

"I think we're more of at the base of one."

"Whatever."

I look to the sky, where lances of sunlight shine through the gaps in the trees. This forest...it definitely doesn't look like anything in Texas, or at least the part where I live. The pine trees alone are a clear giveaway.

So if I'm not in Texas, where am I?

A question suddenly springs to mind and I turn to Vika and Arlyssa. "What states do you two live in?"

Vika frowns. "Connecticut, why?"

I nod and turn to Arlyssa. "You?"

She scowls at me. "I don't see why it matters."

"Just answer the question!"

"Fine. I'm from California. Happy now?"

Vika gasps, suddenly aware of what I've already discovered. "We're all from different states," I say, pacing. "States that are nowhere close to one another. Why then, has Dr. Black kidnapped us? Wouldn't it have been easier to kidnap three teenagers from the same state? Why go across the country to get us three in particular?"

"Maybe...maybe he wanted someone from every state?" Vika hugs her sketchbook to her chest. "That would make sense, wouldn't it?"

I shake my head. "It would, if he had fifty people here. But he explicitly mentioned that there were only around twenty of us."

Arlyssa, who doesn't seem to be as perturbed by this as I am, narrows her eyes at me. "Why does it matter? Dr. Black is obviously an insane psychopath. I doubt even he knows why he does what he does."

I don't respond, still lost in thought. Dr. Black is insane, that's true, but he seems to know exactly what he's doing. So far everything he's done has been meticulously planned. Nothing has been random or erratic. There has to be some reason why he chose us. But I have no way to figure out why. I simply don't have enough information.

"Anyways," Arlyssa turns away from me, obviously taking my silence as acquiescence. "We don't have time to be discussing this. Maybe you two have forgotten, but we're stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no shelter and a limited supply of food. Shouldn't that be our priority?"

That's...actually a really good point. I don't know anything about surviving in the wilderness. And one glance at Vika is enough to tell me that she's probably never even left the city once in her life. That means what little knowledge our team possesses belongs solely to Arlyssa.

"What do you suggest?" I ask.

She shrugs. "Hard to say anything, considering we know squat about this whole playing field. Best thing we can do is scout around and look for landmarks."

"Wh-what about the other teams?" Vika looks to the trees, as if she suspects we'll be jumped right here and now.

"What about them?" Arlyssa waves her revolver around. "If they come for us, I'll just show them a little gunpowder and lead."

Vika flinches back. I understand her reaction. Dr. Black has made it abundantly clear that he wants us to kill each other, and has even supplied us with weapons to do so. But does that mean we have to automatically assume the worst of any people we encounter?

"What if the other teams have their own guns?" Vika asks.

Arlyssa shrugs. Guess we'll find out. Now, enough hand-wring. Let's move out!"

Arlyssa sets off into the pines and we have little choice but to follow. I lag behind the others, self-consciously rubbing my knife. I didn't tell the others this, but I'm actually pretty proficient with knives. I did a lot of the cooking in my family, and that has given me skills that I doubt most others possess. I could kill someone, if I wanted.

That thought makes me cold. I don't want to kill anyone.

To clear my head of these dark thoughts, I belatedly turn my attention to the forest. The pine trees are supremely tall, the lowest branches themselves rose even higher than my head could lift. Though most of the ground was covered with nettles, there are the occasional patches of grass. Wood sorrel flecks these patches and I spot a pair of hares scampering away.

"How adorable!" Vika gasps, the first smile crossing her face in what feels like a very long time.

"We could hunt those," Arlyssa muses. Predictably, Vika begins to protest. I let my attention drift away from the conversation and to the sky, where a pair of jays are screeching high up in the canopy of the trees. I remember learning in school that Jays are the scavengers of the bird world. Their cruel, corvid eyes are always on the lookout for a feathered meal. In the winter, they raid squirrel stores for their nuts, often damning them to starvation.

As the birds drift away, I can't help but wonder if there is a similar situation between us and the other teams.

The forest continues on. I spot more signs of wildlife other than the hares and jays. Butterflies, squirrels, and what I'm sure is a deer. I can't be sure, though, because I only see it from a distance and it bounds away immediately.

Yet I see no signs of other humans. Nothing.