Darkness.
It was a complete and utter void, deeper than any sleep Dave had ever known. For a fleeting moment, it felt like death had taken him again. But this was different. There were no rifle shots, no searing pain, just the slow, heavy descent into unconsciousness. His mind, however, refused to rest.
Tanya's words echoed in the blackness, each one a sharp nail hammering his new reality. Tonight we'll be joining his game? The one with the 0.01% chance of survival?
A cold dread coiled in his gut. Do I really have a chance? He wondered, the thought echoing emptily. Won't dying here be even more painful than the last time? At least that was quick. This… this sounds like a slaughterhouse.
Just as the despair threatened to pull him under completely, a sound pierced the silence.
It was a clean, digital chime, resonating not in his ears but directly within his skull.
The voice was flat, devoid of any emotion, yet it carried a terrifying authority.
Before he could even form another thought. An invisible force seized him. It wasn't a gentle pull; it was a ruthless yank, as if a hook had been embedded in his soul, dragging him through a hole in reality far deeper and more disorienting than the void of sleep. His consciousness was stretched thin, a scream trapped in a nonexistent throat.
With a ragged gasp, his eyes snapped open.
He was on his feet, disoriented, in a world of blinding white. It was less a room and more an expanse of a prison cell. The floor was composed of seamless white tiles that stretched in every direction, meeting walls and a ceiling of the same featureless material, creating a dimensionless box. There were no doors, no windows, no discernible features at all.
Dave's mind, still reeling from the transfer, quickly hardened into a decision. If I die again, then it couldn't be helped. I've already cheated death once. But first, he had a promise to keep. He had to find Tanya.
He scanned the vast white space. But where do I even start?. As the thought crossed his mind, a strange compulsion made him look down at his own body.
He was no longer in the simple clothes. He now wore a bright orange overall, a uniform that felt cheap and abrasive against his skin. On his forearm, where Tanya had shown him the white brand, a new mark had appeared. It wasn't a brand anymore; it was like a printed label, stark black against his skin. It read: 'Player Dave'
As he stared at the impersonal designation, the air a few feet in front of him shimmered. With a faint, static-like buzz, another figure materialized out of nothingness. It was a boy, probably his age or a little older, with a shock of red hair and wide, terrified brown eyes. He was wearing the same orange overall. The boy stumbled, looking around the white prison with mounting panic before his gaze locked onto Dave.
"Who… who are you?" the boy stammered.
"I should ask the same," Dave replied, his own voice guarded. Inwardly, every muscle tensed, as he wasn't sure if this new person was a threat?
Before the red-haired boy could respond, the air around them began to hum. All across the white expanse, more and more figures flickered into existence. Dozens of them. Men and women, all wearing the same orange prison overall, all with the different expressions.. In less than a minute, the space held more than thirty people, a crowd of confused murmurs and frantic whispers growing into a nervous cacophony.
A small flicker of relief warmed Dave's chest. Maybe Tanya is here.
Without hesitation, he began to move, weaving through the growing crowd. He dodged past a man weeping quietly and a woman who was just spinning in circles, her hands clamped over her ears.
"Tanya!" Dave called out, his voice cutting through the din. "Tanya!"
He wasn't the only one. All around him, others were doing the same, calling out names, searching for familiar faces in this sea of orange. He saw a couple find each other and cling together desperately. He saw others, like him, whose calls were met with nothing but the anxious stares of strangers.
Where the hell did they take her? he thought, frustration beginning to boil under his calm exterior. Just then, a light tap on his shoulder sent a jolt of hope through him. He spun around, expecting to see Tanya's deep green eyes.
It wasn't her. The girl standing there had black hair and wide, timid blue eyes that held a profound innocence, a stark contrast to the terror around them.
"Sorry, very sorry for bothering you," she said quickly, her voice soft and apologetic. "I thought you were someone I was looking for."
Seeing the genuine disappointment on her face, Dave just shook his head. "No problem. Just be careful next time." He turned to continue his search.
And then, the chime returned, silencing everyone at once.
A screen, translucent and glowing, materialized in front of every single person. The words that appeared were simple and direct.
5:00
.
.
.
.
4:59
Dave's blood ran cold. His eyes darted around the sterile, white room. There was nothing. No plants, no insects, no animals. Nothing moved except…
His gaze slowly swept across the crowd of players, their faces now etched with understanding. The orange overalls suddenly looked less like prison uniforms and more like targets.
No other living organisms, Dave realized, the truth settling in his gut like a block of ice. Except us players.
The first game by the Game Maker was nothing more than a brutal, straightforward Bloodbath.