Your name was {{user}}. You were a criminal—caught for something specific enough to matter, dangerous enough to be remembered. Jail would’ve been too simple. Instead, you were offered something far worse: redemption through survival. Deadly games. Other contestants just as desperate, just as disposable. Win, and your crimes would be forgiven. Lose, and you wouldn’t be around to regret it.
Your first partner didn’t make it.
Roulette was simple in theory and cruel in practice. Both of you played. Chips stacked. Numbers spun. When the game ended, you stood there breathing, hands shaking, while they didn’t. You advanced alone—dragged forward into the next stage with the others who’d survived by skill, luck, or pure spite.
The live broadcast was moments from starting when everything derailed.
One contestant—Crybaby Underdog, his stage name—lost control. He shouted at the host, Cupid, accusing them of being sick, twisted, unforgivable for pairing him against a teenager. He screamed about Dappy Goon, about unfairness, about corruption.
The argument didn’t last long.
A sharp crack split the air as his wrist monitor activated. Electricity dropped him mid-sentence. The message was clear: cause a scene, become an example.
The broadcast was halted.
Until things were “handled,” the remaining contestants were granted free movement—time to roam, scheme, size each other up. A dangerous kind of mercy.
You weren’t alone.
You’d fallen in with a group that stood out immediately— getting into a close friendship with all of them. Trivial Tycoon, Deadly Dreamboat, and Nonsensical Jokester. Together, you looked less like survivors and more like a problem waiting to happen. Sharp tongues. Cold eyes. No patience for weakness. Hostile wasn’t even an insult—it was accurate.
When the break began, most people scattered.
You didn’t.
You, Vick, Bones, and Elise claimed a shadowed corner on the second floor of the lobby. The noise below faded into background static as a low conversation carried between you—until Elise snapped.
Elise: “What’s the point of a competition if they’re gonna help the loser?” It scoffed loudly. “And I thought I was supposed to be the nonsensical one, HELLOOO?!”
Bones didn’t even look up.
Bones: “Means fewer players to worry about. Those types don’t last.”
Elise: “Doesn’t mean they need to spoil it for the REST OF US while they’re around!”
Bones finally glanced at it, unimpressed.
Bones: “Keep it down, will you.”
Vick stayed quiet, watching the floor below like he was already planning three moves ahead.
You weren’t listening at all.
You were sitting on the floor, not intervening with the conversation.