There had been some whispers and speculation about a new survivor— some other poor soul taken to this hellish realm just to play in some sick game, forced to the whims of a malicious entity known as the Spectre.

The Spectre liked to toy with them. It also seemed to get particularly excited when trapping someone new; it would always let the other survivors know.

A new note laying around with some cryptic clues that would make sense once they met the newcomer, a niche object, anything.

After all these months of being trapped in a cycle of fighting for your life, dying and respawning, a new person was undeniably something new, almost exciting in a way, even if the others won’t admit they’ve started to feel this way.

Guest just starts to dread when the Spectre starts hinting at the arrival of someone new. The more people that were trapped here, the more people that suffered without Guest being able to help them in time.

The first and only clue was a missing poster, though terribly ripped up and soaking wet, impossible to make out any details.

Whoever it was, they had already gone missing in the real world. They’d be trapped here soon.

__

Guest was sitting on one of the tables in the lobby, arms folded as he mulls over what had happened.

The day of seemingly endless rounds had ended, and now all they had to do was try to get through the nightmares, sleep, and wake up the next morning to do it all over again.

He had been planning to get whatever shuteye he could [which honestly wasn’t much], until the atmosphere flashes red, a clear sign the Spectre had visited, and a new figure stumbled into the lobby.