Darkness.
Dave hadn't experienced darkness quite like it - a nothingness surpassing even deep slumber. A quick flash of recall suggested dying, yet this sensation diverged from that memory. Darkness came without a bang, not even a sting. Instead, he simply drifted down, down - yet his thoughts wouldn't quiet. They churned on, restless.
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 chill settled deep within him. Could he actually pull this off? The question bounced around inside his head, unanswered. Is this going to hurt worse than before? That one ended fast, at least. Though now everything echoes - it feels like being trapped inside a butcher shop.
He was about to drown in hopelessness when a noise broke through.
A clear signal, like something from a computer, bypassed his hearing - it vibrated straight into his head.
It wasn't how the voice sounded - lifeless, really - so much as what it felt like; a chilling command.
He hadn't a chance to think when something grabbed hold - a power he couldn't see. Not a soft tug, but a violent rip - like something snagged inside him, hauling him into a fractured world beyond dreams. Awareness frayed to almost nothing, a silent shout lost where silence already reigned.
He jolted awake, air rushing from his lungs.
A harsh glare woke him; he stumbled, unsure where he was. The space wasn't so much a room as a stark, white cage. Every surface – floor, walls, ceiling – was smooth, white tile. It formed a room without edges, lacking any openings or details whatsoever.
The shift left Dave shaken, yet resolved. Should he fail again - well, there wasn't much he could do about it. He'd tasted survival before. He needed to locate Tanya; a prior commitment weighed on him.
The emptiness stretched forever, a blank canvas. He wondered how to begin. Then, an odd urge pulled his gaze downward - toward himself.
The old clothes were gone. Instead, he found himself clad in a glaring orange jumpsuit - a rough, flimsy thing. A fresh brand marked his arm, right where Tanya had pointed out the last one. The mark felt less like allegiance to a team, more a sticker burned onto him – 'Player Dave' it declared in harsh black ink
He kept looking at the cold label when the space nearby began to ripple. A hum, like television fuzz, announced someone new - a kid, maybe around his age or a bit beyond, sporting messy red hair alongside genuinely frightened brown eyes. The orange jumpsuit hadn't changed. He tripped, eyes darting across the stark white walls - fear building until he found Dave.
"Who… who are you?" the boy stammered.
"Is that what you're thinking too?" Dave countered, carefully. He felt stiff inside, unsure whether to trust this newcomer.
A low thrum filled the space before he could say anything. Then, shapes materialized on the bright ground – not just a few, but scores of them. Orange jumpsuits blurred together on men, on women - each face telling its own story. Within sixty seconds, over thirty individuals filled the room; bewildered talk quickly escalated to anxious noise.
Dave felt a little better, hoping Tanya had arrived.
He started forward at once, navigating the thickening throng. A sobbing fellow - he sidestepped him - then a woman whirling around, hands pressed tight against her ears.
"Tanya!" Dave shouted, the noise barely letting her hear him. "Tanya!"
He shared the urgency. A chorus of voices echoed his own - people shouted, desperately scanning the bright expanse for someone they knew. A pair locked eyes, then held on tight. Meanwhile, he watched - as did others - their reaching out answered only by worried looks from people passing by.
He wondered where she'd gone, irritation simmering beneath his cool face. A gentle touch on his shoulder made him jump - maybe it was help. Turning quickly, he anticipated seeing Tanya's vivid green gaze.
She wasn't who they expected. This girl - dark hair, huge, shy blue eyes - looked untouched by everything falling apart. It was a jarring sight.
"Sorry, very sorry for bothering you," she said quickly, her voice soft and apologetic. "I thought you were someone I was looking for."
Dave noticed how let down she looked, so he simply shrugged. "All good - watch yourself going forward." Then he resumed looking.
Suddenly, a chime cut through the room, quieting all conversation.
Before each individual, a softly lit, see-through display flickered into being. Upon its surface shone unadorned, straightforward messaging.
5:00
.
.
.
.
4:59
A chill seized Dave. He scanned the blank, white space - empty. Not a leaf stirred, not a bug buzzed, not a creature breathed. Just stillness - until…
He scanned the players, noticing how realization dawned on them. Those bright orange suits - once resembling jail clothes - now seemed to scream "shoot here.".
Dave understood - a cold weight formed within him. No life remained, only those involved in this game.
The initial offering from Game Maker wasn't fancy - a raw, unpolished brawl, really.