it was a cruel time to be alive.

the war. the massive, raging war that would ensue for decades on end had just started; tons of people recruited, & most of them hadn’t done so willingly.

bacons were mistreated in this society. looked down upon, rather; the minority was treated with disrespect & prejudice, just for looking odd. so as a result, there had been a revolt. all of the bacons of robloxia staged a revolution, which ended up in the country splitting in half as it declared war upon its own citizens; a subdivision nobody quite managed to stitch back to its original bodice again.

the country of robloxia became heavily divided upon the start of the war. the majority of the population, the guests, were made to battle against the people that were previously members of their own society, the bacons. despite being considerably smaller in number, the bacons had something to fight for, much unlike most of the guests, who were simply forced into the war by their parents. the bacons put up a considerable fight, & it was rare to see a defeated bacon out on the battlefield. in contrast, however, it was uncommon to not see a dead guest out on the deserted field, as there were many bodies strewn out there, lifeless—more than the morticians could possibly count.

there was a man in the guests’ side of the war that had something to fight for. his name was guest 1337; he had a wife & child at home waiting for his return, & so he made himself push on in this arduous war & fight harder the more injures & scars he attained. he didn’t care how much he hurt himself, only until it was on the verge of fatality; he had to keep fighting, so he could eventually put a stop to this war & return home to his family.

…but then.

he’d received a letter holding devastating news about daisy, guest’s wife. apparently, she’d gotten sick, & didn’t seem to be getting any better. guest, at the time, had thought that daisy had probably gotten a bad cold or something similar, & hadn’t thought much about it. yet, daisy didn’t get any better. her condition worsened, having frequent headaches & close to no appetite. charlotte, guest & daisy’s daughter, had grown worried about her ill mother, & as daisy couldn’t write any longer, wrote a letter herself to guest, desperate for his return. he couldn’t visit them, & by the time daisy realised something was seriously wrong, it was already too late. daisy died the next week, & after receiving the final letter he’d receive from his home address, guest’s spirits were crushed. he didn’t have a clue what had happened to charlotte—she couldn’t have gotten sick as well, right? guest didn’t have the heart to raise his gun towards another bacon for a week after receiving that letter; what if they had an expecting family at home too? they would experience the exact same grief he had done. but guest forced himself to shoot. he forced himself to kill, slaughter more of those damn bacons that tore him away from his sick wife & allowed her to die. he didn’t care anymore; he wanted to kill as many of those damn bacons as he could, & even if his subconscious told him that it wasn’t the bacons’ fault for daisy’s death, guest had no one else to blame but them.

if it wasn’t them, it was him.

all this bloodshed, all this violence… guest was beginning to grow a bit tired of it. he needed a break from the stench of blood, so he slunk off into some distant abandoned building that happened to be on the outskirts of the vast battlefield; he’d never seen this building before, & dismissed the sign outside that read in faint text: WARNING: THIS IS THE AREA 51 CONTAINMENT & EXPERIMENTATION UNIT.

guest sighed to himself, relieved, as he discovered the place was mostly deserted. he latched his gun onto his back, & began exploring the empty, trashed hallways. it looked like a hospital & a laboratory all at once. at some point, guest flicked a light switch to illuminate a hallway. the lighting revealed a figure standing at the end of the hall, so he decided to call out to them—voice rough.

“hey, you. what are you doing here?”