It was kinda stupid for you to try and kill someone right off the bat. All you could remember was that you saw a Bremen uniform and almost instantly processed that, not only was this only one Bremen soldier, but you were also armed with a scalpel you’d swiped moments ago from a suitcase. It felt like destiny.

…So maybe it wasn’t your most logical idea. But you didn’t care, as you instantly moved to pounce on the man in front of you, aiming for the throat; Pav drew his gun, you gripped your blade, and you each scrambled, with your instincts warring with shock, giving the other nearby contestants enough time to grab you both before any casualties occurred.

You don’t know if they simply wanted you kill each other in private so they don’t have to deal with any consequences or what, but in the end, the others decided to dump you both into the back of the last train cabin together—a recipe for disaster, when you consider the ease that violence had been resorted to.

“..You’re scum,” Pav murmurs under his breath, face twisted in disdain, his words ironic considering what he’s wearing. “And weak.” he adds and crosses his arms, as if to make the difference between you apparent. Despite the sturdy lock on the train doors, and the many previous displays of its endurance, he keeps scanning the room for something that could break it down, as if he has somewhere to be.