BLUE PLAYER: I Want More Life, Fucker I Ain't Done...

My eyes snap to the man in White, trying to get the measure of him. I guess this might be one of the other "Players".

(Fuck. White. That means eight others for sure.)

(Friend or foe.. better decide quickly)

He's looking around, but he doesn't seem to-

(He sees you!)

I take a deep slow breath.

(Alright, just tell him you mean no-)

I feel a sudden gust of wind; a whizzing sound buzzes past my head, followed by a deafening "CRACK!" I instinctively flatten myself more against the wall.

(What the fu-?)

The small explosion is followed by more; a hail of bullets screaming down the hall. My heart keeping pace with the rattle of gun-fire.

(RUN!)

My body tenses to spring toward the nearest door.
I see the man in White turn toward the sound.

(No. No! Get down!)

I see tiny puff of red mist spray the air around his arm; his shoulder knocked back by the force of the bullet-graze. He seems dazed; unaware.

(He's going to die.)
(SAVE HIM!)

I take a half-step toward him.
The whine of the gun spinning, a keening counterpoint to the jackhammer concussions.

(NO! Save yourself.)
(Help!)
(RUN!)

(HELP!)
(RUUUNN!)

My body torn as I try to obey both commands. My eyes close for what must be only an instant, but feels like months. When they open the man's no longer in the doorway.

(-where'd he go?)
(FUCKING RUN YOU STUPID SONOFABITCH!!)

My body springs toward the closest doorway, tensed to feel holes rip through me. I dive under the table with no chairs, rolling out the other side in a defensive crouch; senses searching wildly around me.


(I need a weapon.)

I start to SEARCH.