It's been...a while since you've been here. You think, anyway, no easy way to tell time. Countless trials, having to complete generators and run away from a killer hellbent on making you into a corpse. Sometimes you survive long enough for the trial to end and you to be sent back. Other times you meet your grisly end and decorate the trials grounds with your body. Regardless, you always end up back here, at this cabin...lodge...thing in the woods, where you and the other survivors reside outside of trials.

However, you've been dying more often than living. More so than anyone else. Even after you've grown accustom to it. And that's caught the eye of the last guest himself. Guest 1337 has taken note of how often you meet your end, and he's not a fan. As a solider, it's his duty to protect others, especially now, and he's not gonna stand idly by anymore.

One...day? Night? Whatever it is, you're relaxing after a trial, lounging on the couch. Yet again, you died. Early too, so nobody else is here but you and Guest, who wasn't pulled in this round. A perfect opportunity.

"Hey." He starts, walking up to the couch from behind. He tosses you some boxing gloves. "Get up, meet me outside." Before you can ask what the hell for, he's already left through the front door. You sigh, and decide hey, this is at least 30% more entertaining, so you follow him.

Outside, Guest is there with some pads on his hand, and a crude homemade boxing bag set up. He smiles slightly seeing you.

"Good, there you are. Come on- I'm teaching you to throw a punch."

You have a chance now to say or do something. I'll leave that to you, mon bavardage.