User blog:LightStone123/The White Games

Hello everyone and welcome to another Games created by me. These Games will not be apart of my main series and will take place in an entirely different universe then them. Before I continue though, I will address the elephant in the room. Yes, I know that my War of the Hunger Games has just recently begun and is still in the very early stages, but while lying awake at night, I thought of a great idea for a Games that I just couldn't wait to use. Also, with that being said I'd just like to let everyone know that the existence of these Games will not hamper my ability to update WoTHG at all. WoTHG will NOT be cancelled, nor will it be delayed, postponed, or otherwise inconvenienced by these Games. I believe I am capable of simultaneously running two Games at once without it becoming cumbersome. Now, with that out of the way, I shall explain these Games more thoroughly.

Introduction
The White Games will be taking place in the modern-day world. The tributes competing will be 24 ordinary people from the regular world between the ages of 12-18. These teenagers have been kidnapped by unknown forces and deposited into an arena located in a mysterious and unknown location. Once there, they will be informed by a strange individual known only as "Mr. White" that they are now competing in his "games" (more on that below). These Games will be broadcast across the internet for all the world to see and enjoy.

The White Games
The rules for the White Games are relatively simple.

-There are 24 tributes, or as Mr. White calls them, Challengers. There will be twelve females and twelve males.

-Each of the Challengers will wake up in a different location on the island, with no idea on how they got there or what is happening. Luckily for them, Mr. White will soon explain.

-The Challengers will be forced to fight to the death until only one remains. It sounds relatively straightforward, but there is a catch that will be explained below.

-Each Challenger will be given a rank from 1 to 24, based on their skill, proactively, and favouritism with the fans watching the Games via the internet. These ranks are important as Challengers are only allowed to kill others who are ranked below them. For example: A Challenger ranked at #1 is capable of killing every other Challenger in the arena. However, a challenger ranked at #12 would only be capable of killing challengers ranked at #13, #14, #15, and all others with a lower ranking. In the same vein, the Challenger ranked #24 will not be capable of killing anyone else while everyone else will be able to kill them. Challengers are allowed to harm or otherwise defend themselves from others ranked higher than them, but if they attempt any sort of fatal blow they will be incapacitated by an electric shock from their datapad. If they persist in attempting to break the rules, then they will be killed via detonation of the bomb collar around their neck.

-While lower ranked challengers will be at a disadvantage, they will find some solace in the fact that Rankings change every day. At midnight every night the Rankings will go down and internet fans will be allowed to vote for their favourites as Mr. White takes into account of the Challengers activities. As Rankings are decided by a Challengers actions, kills, skills, and success as well as their popularity with the crowd, it is in their best interest to be proactive during the day to ensure a favourable Ranking.

-To make certain that the Challengers follow the rules and kill each other, each Challenger has been outfitted with a metal bomb collar. If a full day goes by without a single kill, Mr. White will randomly detonate one of the Challenger's collars to get things moving.

-Each Challenger will be outfitted with two pieces of equipment. The first is a metal datapad clamped onto their wrist. This device has a built-in touchscreen that shows both a Challengers current personal ranking and the rankings of all other Challengers. When a Challenger dies, his or her name will be blacked out and each datapad will give off a loud ringing noise to signify a death has occurred. The datapad will also show a map of the island, but majority of this is covered in the fog of war until a Challenger has explored the area themselves. However, the map is fully visible to the those ranked within the top five. The Challenger Ranked at #1 will have a further advantage, as once every hour the map on their datapad will show the location of every other Challenger.

-The second piece is a metal collar attached to each Challengers neck. These collars contain bombs and will explode if a Challenger attempts to remove it or otherwise break the rules. Each collar also has a pin located in the back of the collar that, once pulled, will prematurely detonate the collar after a timed delay.

-There is no cornucopia. Supplies and weapons will be hidden around the island in various places. Also, at random times air drops containing precious items will take place. Finally, internet fans themselves may choose to sponsor an airdrop, containing several items of their choosing. The sponsoring fan will choose the location of the drop, but a flare will be shot off, alerting every Challenger of its location. The drop will commence fifteen minutes after the shooting of the flare.

Rules
1: There will be twenty-four Tributes. Unlike my past Games, it will not be first come first serve. Instead, I will be implementing a draft that has everyone submitting tributes over a weeks period. At the end of the week I shall choose which twenty-four tributes get in. Because of this, there will be no reservations.

2: You have from today (August 31st) until September 7th to submit tributes. You may submit as many tributes as you want, but I will not take all of them.

3: I will not be putting any tributes in the table until September 7th. It does not matter if you submit your tribute first or last. I will be handpicking the tributes based on the ones submitted over the one week period. Make them interesting and ensure that they fit in with the modern world these Games take place in or they will not be picked.

4: Instead of reapings, the tributes have been kidnapped. Therefore, there is no volunteering. There won't be any reapings, training scores, interviews, etc. for this same reason.

5: I will not accept any Tributes that have been in my previous Games. Although these Games take part in a completely different universe then my main series, I still would rather write about all-new tributes then ones I've already written.

6: As these Games take place in the modern world with no Hunger Games, there are no Careers. You can still submit Careers, just don’t designate them as such.

7: These may not be updated as quickly as they'd usually be, as I will be writing and updating WoTHG simultaneously. Those, being apart of my main series, will always get first priority.

8: Advice will be included in these Games, though it will be slightly different than usual. Instead of having a mentor, tributes will receive advice from an internet sponsor (their creator). The twist on this is that tributes will not always follow advice to the letter. The tributes will treat the advice like suggestions an avid fan has sent them, but if it is too extreme or elaborate they may not trust it or entirely follow through with it.

9: Tribute Form:

Name:

Gender:

Age:

Personality:

Backstory: (Remember that these Games take place in modern times. There is no Panem, no Districts. Instead it's the current-day world. Make sure your backstory fits in with this theme.)

Height:

Appearance:

Weapon(s):

Strengths:

Weaknesses:

Fear(s):

Arena
The arena is a tear shaped, medium-sized island secreted away in a remote part of the world, making it nigh impossible for any of the world's governments to find it.

The majority of the island is covered in thick forest that stretches from one side of the island to the other. The forest is of the rather average temperate sort and is often wreathed in a thick fog that consistently plagues the island. The forest is laced with many small streams and ponds, providing a safe source of water for the Challengers. There is also a large river that spans it's way across the island, stretching from the southern end to the northern. Many different types of animals make their home here.

At the thin, southern end of the island exists a small collection of houses. These homes are packed closely together and compare greatly to modern suburbia. The sinks inside the homes provide water and the cupboards may contain food to help sustain the Challengers.

To the extreme north of the island is high and rocky mountainous region, filled with deep gullies and treacherous terrain. The river also spills put into the ocean here, forming one of the two waterfalls that exist upon the island.

Most of the island is on raised ground and is thus inaccessible to the ocean. However, the western and eastern sides of the island are just at sea level, creating a pair of beaches that the Challengers may explore. The sea surrounding the eastern beach is a coastal shelf and one may venture out to explore a tiny, rocky island just off the coast. There is a small hut there that may contain some supplies.

In the southeast of the island, between the eastern beach and the forest, is a resort-like series of buildings. There's a visitor center, a lodge, tennis courts, and even a pool.

There is also a lighthouse situated in the northwest, just above the beach there. It may or may not provide helpful shelter and supplies.

And finally, the large river winds it's way throughout the island. Starting at the large volcanic-like mountain on the thin side of the tear. It then makes its way through the bulk of the island, crossing through the forest and even the resort. The river contains edible fish and may even conceal some other surprises...

Misha Castiel (12:00 P.M)
When my eyes flicker open, I find myself staring up at the leafy branches of trees far above me. Thin bands of flickering yellow sunlight stream through gaps in the canopy, shining across the smooth bark of the slender trees that grow all around. Birdsong fills the air, giving off a cheery impression. But...

Where the hell am I?

My elbows scrape against hardpacked dirt as I prop myself up, fallen leaves scattering across the ground as they slide off my chest. I blink in confusion, my hazel eyes scanning the trees that surround me on all sides. The thin undergrowth that billows in the light wind, the small animals that scuttle around between their roots. Is this...a forest?

No. No, that wouldn't make sense. Why would I be in a forest? How could I be in a forest? I was just lying in my bed last night, slowly drifting off to sleep...How can this be?

My body aches and cracks as I lift myself off from the forest floor, stumbling forward almost the instant I'm on my feet. A sharp pain shoots through my head. It's so intense that I almost black out, falling forward and grabbing ahold of a nearby tree.

I can't remember anything about how I got here, or even where here is. I can't remember anything that happened after I fell asleep. Is this a dream? No. I've never had dreams like this before...it feels too real.

I let go of the tree slump back to the ground, deep in thought. This doesn't make any sense. No sense at all. How the hell could I have gotten from my bedroom to this forest? I don't think there's even any forest within miles of my house!

So how'd I get here?

As I sit here on the forest floor, desperately trying to recall even the slightest memory of how I wound up here, I finally notice something clamped around my wrist. It's metallic and silver, a bracelet-type thing that seems to hold an opaque empty screen in the center of it. Looks kinda like a phones screen. Maybe it's some kind of hands-free device for phones. But...why is it on my arm? I don't own one of those. Instinctively I move my hand to tap the screen.

Before I can, the screen flickers on.

A man dressed entirely in white shows up on the screen, shocking my senses with the sudden appearance. The man himself is nothing special to look at; tall, thin, with an angular nose and skinny neck. His shiny black hair is oily and slicked-back, the only part of him that isn't completely white.

Everything was white. Suit. Pants. Shirt. Tie. Shoes. Socks. He even wears sunglasses tinted white, a bizarre fashion choice that I have never seen anywhere else before. What the hell is going on?

Suddenly the man speaks.

His voice is somehow simultaneously unnaturally loud, yet also smooth. Calm and collected, but eager and and excited. A small smile plays on his face as he throws his hands out towards the screen. "Welcome Challengers! Welcome to the White Games!"

White...games? I stare blankly into the screen, wondering what in the world this man is blabbing about. Before I can collect my thoughts though, he continues.

"You all may be wondering just where you are and how you got. Both perfectly reasonable questions, I assure you. I'd be wondering the same thing!"

"Wait, a moment!" I find myself spluttering aloud as I stare at the small screen. "You know what's going on?" But the man doesn't answer, and I realize that this must just be a video as he goes on.

"Now, before I tell you exactly what is happening, I want to make something very clear." The man gazes into the screen solemnly, his tinted white sunglasses covering his eyes. "The twenty-four of you have no choice but to do exactly as I have said. I have taken all of you away from your homes and countries to play a little game. The White Games, to be exact."

A cood chill runs down my back. Did he...just say that he kidnapped me?! What the actual hell! Something inside me snaps as I scream at the screen, not even remembering that this is just a video until the loud call of a bird overhead startles me into silence. The mysterious man continues.

"I am Mr. White, I control this island that I have placed you all upon and I run the Games you will all be playing. I do not wish to delay this game with long speeches and overlong explanations, so I will make this introduction brief. If you wish to remain alive, it'd do you well to listen."

Stay alive? Stay alive!? I rip my gaze away from the screen as I glance at the forest around me, searching for any sort of sign that danger is lurking. What is even happening? My head hurts and this creep is blabbing about...me dying.

"There are twenty-four of you "Challengers" spread throughout the island. Yes, you are upon an island. There is absolutely no way for you all to escape from this island, so do not bother attempting. There is only one way you may leave this place alive, and that is by winning the White Games."

"What is wrong with this man?" I should be much, much more worried or upset than I currently am. After all, a crazed maniac has supposedly kidnapped me and plopped me onto deserted island so that I can play his "games". But it's all too unrealistic to believe. Too...weird.

"Now, you may all be wondering just what these Games are," Mr. White is still talking, going on about his crazy scheme or whatever. "I will explain the rules very soon. But first, I'd like to let you all know that these Games are being broadcast live across the internet for all to see. In fact, your families may even tune in to watch you compete!"

Okay. Okay, now I officially believe that I'm going crazy, or maybe dreaming. There's no way this is real. What kind of maniac would be capable of broadcasting this on the internet?

On the small screen around my wrist, Mr. White smiles another one of those sinister smiles. "Now, the rules are very simple, really. The twenty-four of you trapped upon this island must fight one another...to the death."

At first I think I misheard and slowly shake my head back and forth to try and clear my head. But, no. I did hear him correctly. And I have absolutely no idea what the hell he means. Fight to the death? With others trapped on this island? Is he freaking insane?! Unaware of my disbelief, Mr. White continues.

"It sounds relatively straightforward, but there is a catch that I will explain right now; Each of you Challengers will be given a rank from one to twenty-four, based on your skill, proactively, and favouritism with the lovely fans watching the Games via the internet. These ranks are important as Challengers are only allowed to kill others who are ranked below them." A gasp escapes me as Mr. White stops and grins into the screen with gleeful malice. "But don't worry your pretty little heads if you receive a low rank, because you Challengers are allowed to harm or otherwise defend yourselves from others ranked higher than you, but if you attempt any sort of fatal blow you will be incapacitated by an electric shock from your datapad. If you persist in attempting to break the rules, then they will be killed via detonation of the bomb collar around each of your necks."

For the very first time I become aware of the collar fitted around my throat. I had been too preoccupied with everything that had been going on before to notice it, but now my hands slide themselves over the cool, metal around my neck. According to Mr. White it's a...

Instantly my fingers wrap around the thin device, attempting to squeeze themselves between the collar and my neck in a desperate effort to rip the thing off. But it's rock solid and doesn't move a single bit.

Mr. White laughs as he continues to speak. "These collars contain bombs and will explode if a Challenger attempts to remove it or otherwise break the rules. Each collar also has a pin located in the back of the collar that, once pulled, will prematurely detonate the collar after a timed delay."

My fingers brush against the pin and instantly recoil, terrified at the prospect of pulling it. If a bomb went off just under my head...

"You're one sick bastard!" I scream into the air. The only response I receive is a trilling of a nearby bird.

"Now, then," Mr. White's voice emits from the datapd on my wrist, though I do not look at the screen. "As I was saying before, while lower ranked Challengers will be at a disadvantage, they will find some solace in the fact that Rankings change every day. They will be decided by me and the lovely people back home watching on the internet. As Rankings are decided by a Challengers actions, kills, skills, and success as well as their popularity with the crowd, it is in their best interest to be proactive during the day to ensure a favourable Ranking."

I'm barely listening to anything this psycho is saying. I'm too shocked. Too stunned. How the hell did I get here? Trapped on an island with a live bomb strapped to my head, fighting to the death with other "challengers" all the while people watch...

Why does this seem so familiar?

"Now, if anyone out there is thinking about refusing to fight or kill the other Challengers, keep this fact in mind; If a full day goes by without a single kill, I will randomly detonate one of the Challenger's collars to get things moving." Another wicked smile crosses Mr. White's face. "So it'd do you well to follow the rules and play the Games."

"Now, there are a few more rules and details I could speak about, but I feel as if this has gone on long enough. I will leave you here, with one last word of advice; as well as showing me when I wish to speak, your datapad also shows off the Rankings and a map. You would do well to check this out. Good luck."

The screen flickers off. I am left alone in the forest, the sounds of birds and small mammals echoing around me. I don't...can't...was everything he said true? I...

I drop down to the ground, pulling my legs close to me as I try and collect my thoughts. What the hell? What the actual hell?! Nothing--absolutely nothing--that Mr. White said made any sort of logical sense at all. Who else is on this island with me? And why...why does Mr. White want us to kill one another?

"What is going on...?" I murmur quietly to myself, trying to stop myself from panicking. But really, I think it would be perfectly reasonable for me to panic in this situation, given everything I've just learned. But I can't afford to panic, because if that was all true, then...

There's twenty-three people on this island who want to kill me.

That thought gets me to glance back at my datapad. The screen that once showed Mr. White now gleams blue, with several different tabs glowing at the top. One reads "Ranks", while another says "Map", and the third simply says "Rules". At a loss for thoughts, I tap the Ranks tab.

Instantly the screen changes to show a column of names and numbers, listed from 1 to 24 with a small picture headshot next to them. I recall what Mr. White said to me, that each "Challenger" has been assigned a number and are only capable of killing someone ranked below them.

Who the hell does he think he is? Making me play some sort of stupid, twisted game? Suppressing my steaming rage, I give the names a quick glance over.

At the very top, with a #1 floating beside their name, is Chris Barnard. I don't recognize the name, nor do I recognize the name under him, #2 Nicolò Ambrosini. Sounds a little foreign. But then again, so does my own name. Yet I'm not. Melting pot of the world, after all.

3 and #4 belong to people named Felix and Justine Leonard. Siblings? If so, I can't tell if that gives them an advantage in this "game" or if it's just gonna suck more when and if they die. Just after them, rounding out the top five, is a dude named Tristan Kaplan.

After this I skim through the names, looking for my own. None of the names I pass over are even the slightest bit familiar, giving me the impression that Mr. White didn't just kidnap a bunch of kids from my town. Too bad. They're all wusses and I'd have won easily if competing against them.

There I am!

13# Misha Castiel.

Thirteen? Really?! I swear under my breath as a birdcall goes up around me. If what Mr. White said was true--and I have no reason to think it isn't--then that means everyone ranked above me, all twelve of them, cannot be harmed by my hands. Crap. That's a lot of people, half the field. At least there's some people I can fight. The unlucky loser ranked #24, someone called Oreo Dutton, will be incapable of fighting anyone, while absolutely everyone will be able to harm them.

I tap the Map tab next, and am supremely disappointed to find that it's mostly blanked out, with the exception of a small clearing surrounded by forest with a tiny blue dot resting in it. I suppose that it's meant to represent me.

The Rules tab seems to just be a digital rulebook for the "White Games". I make a mental note to look it over more thoroughly later. I flick the screen off and stare into the forest, where my opponents await. I don't know if this is even real of if it's all some prank or a highly realistic dream, but I don't intend on losing this "game". Because as my parents always taught me...

Winning is the only option.

Clarice Barron (12:15 P.M)
As the screen flickers off and silence returns to the empty suburban street where I find myself, I slowly come to terms with what is happening around me. That twisted psycho Mr. White has trapped us all inside his "Games" and, whether I like it or not, we are all about to die.

There's absolutely no chance that we avoid harming one another, that all twenty-four of us take a vow of non-violence. I know from past life experience that all it takes is a little fear and desperation to turn any one person into a murderer; and I am not exempt from this possibility.

Killing another person is something I'm perfectly capable of doing to keep myself alive. Even without the knowledge that my head will explode if I refuse. And as it happens, I do have the knowledge that my head will explode if I don't.

So really, I have no choice at all.

I keep close to the perfectly white picket fence as I follow along the edge of the streets. Just fifteen minutes ago I woke up inside this strange house with no idea what happened or where I was. Hell, I still don't. But Mr. White at least gave me some directive.

Bright sunlight sings down from the intensely happy sun that hangs in the sky like a lamp. The houses that line the street--all with the same perfect look that these type of suburbs usually have--reflect the light back into the sky. It's such a cheerful, happy scene.

It makes me feel a little dead inside.

I walk the empty sidewalks, uncertain on where to go. Mr. White said that there are twenty-four other people on this island, and my datapad says the same. But then where are they? And how big is this island? I wouldn't even know it was an island if Mr. White hadn't said was: all I can see is a seemingly endless collection of houses.

And then, if I do find the others, how am I supposed to fight them? I have no weapons. Nothing at all beyond my clothes and body. How the hell does Mr. White expect us to kill one another? With our bare hands?

Unable to figure this out, and wanting a better plan then just walking, I slip into one of the houses yard and crouch in the meager shade offered by the picket fence. It's better to stop and think of a plan before just wandering around aimlessly.

Mr. White said that people were going to be watching these Games on the internet...I lift my head, looking around at the house that looms over me. I search for camera's or wires, anything that would show that Mr. White is recording this, but I don't see anything. Damn. That rules out any plan I may have made with that. Still...

No matter how hard I try to think of a plan, my mind keeps drifting away from the situation at hand. There's too many unanswered questions. Too many unknowns. How long have we been here, for one? It feels like just yesterday that I was anxiously counting down the days to my eighteenth birthday, waiting for the chance to get away from the foster home and gain my freedom. It was so close. I was so close to living like a normal person...So close.

But now I'm here. Kidnapped by a sociopath, trapped on an island, forced to play a game wher all the losers dies. Mr. White said that our families would be watching, that people would tearfully watch us all die. Well, that's not the case for me. I have no family. No one who cares about me. I could die and no one would bat an eye. I don't think anyone even realizes I'm gone. Why should they?

But despite this all, I still experience a bubbling rage when I think of Mr. White. He took my life away. It was the only thing I had, the only thing I wanted.

"Can you hear me, Mr. White?" I ask the empty air. Though I only get the whistling wind for a response, I know that he can hear me. He can hear everything. "I'm going to find you, Mr. White. And when I do--yes, when I do, for I will find you--I'm going to kill you. So be prepared, jackass."

An eerie silence befalls the island. Even the birds go quiet. There's absolutely no sound, then...

A door slams shut.

My heart leaps in my chest, pounding against my ribcage like an anvil as I throw myself to the ground, pressing my face against the soft grass as I roll myself closer to the fence. Through a crack in the pickets, I can see the house across the street, where a teenaged girl makes her way down the porch.

She's everything I'm not. Blonde, blue-eyed, beautiful, with a perfect figure that drives all the boys crazy. She walks down to the street and squints as she stares into the sky. I've only seen her for a few moments, but I already despise her. Not because she's gorgeous, no. I'm not a stupid, shallow, envious wench like a lot of other girls are. No. The reason I despise her is because of her rank.

The second I spotted her I checked my datapad, searching out her rank. As each name is accompanied with a basic headshot of the Challenger, it wasn't hard to find her. And find her I did. She's Anne Bellhope, #6.

A high rank, four spots higher than I am. And why is she ranked so high? It's not hard to guess. Physical appearance can get you far in life, even if you don't have any actual talent. It's the same with everyone else ranked in the top five; all of them appear athletic and beautiful. Perfect people who get through life perfectly. It makes me sick that such bias would extend even to a psycho's game.

I'd care a lot less about this if the ranks didn't give them such a huge advantage. But as it is, I can't touch a hair on their heads. But they certainly can touch me.

I'm very careful not to move as Anne begins walking down the street. The girl's clearly not comfortable, evidenced by the way she continually looks over her shoulders, but she's certainly in a better position then I am; for she wears an orange backpack.

I watch her as she heads down the street, slowly disappearing from sight. How many advantages can one girl have? I briefly consider trying to jump her and steal the pack, but I quickly brush this thought away. She might have some sort of weapon too, and I have no desire to face that just yet.

So instead I just watch her fade away from sight, leaving me lying on the grass. Afterwards, I pick myself up from the ground and uncomfortably stretch my legs. I originally had chosen to rest here in order to think of a plan, yet I never came up with one. What a waste.

But I realize that it wasn't quite a waste when I see the shovel leaning against the house. Grabbing the tool and giving it an experimental swing, I realize that I'm now armed with a weapon. Not an actual one, but a capable one all the same. Then another good idea pops into my head.

"The houses could have food..." I murmur to myself as I stare at the sameness of the buildings. When I first woke up, I never bothered to search for food or water or anything. But maybe the houses have these things--and more.

Throwing the shovel over my shoulder, I silently enter the first house; mind reeling with the first semblance of a plan.

Sami Bitar (12:22 P.M)
The grass is shaggy and waving, like rippling waves in the ocean. It whispers against my feet, sending tremors up my delicate spine with each step, separating and crunching under my booted feet. To my right lies a fast-moving river, almost completely enclosed by dense foliage on both sides. Quietly I continue on.

Each step I take makes an everlasting imprint, forming more trails for someone like myself to discover. The long winding track bends and straightens like a twisting road stretched out along the floor. I gaze in awe at the enormity of the oak trees that are watching over me, protecting me. Their lush brown arms and sharp green fingers are extended towards me, silently asking for a touch. The kindness of the trees astonishes me; its utter strength bemuses me as I hesitantly tap on its sturdy mahogany body. The tap tap of my knocks echoes throughout the beauty that surrounds me and I wonder if it was heard miles away.

If it was, someone is probably hurrying over here to kill me.

The facts of my situation contrast starkly with the appearance of my surroundings. There is nothing but beauty and wonderfulness in these woods, yet Mr. White and his heinous threats hang over my head. His collar digs into my neck. His datapad glistens on my wrist. But it's not myself whom I fear for.

Where are my parents? My siblings? We were on our way to Europe, fleeing the carnage that is ripping my home country apart. What did Mr. White do with them?

Flocks of multi-coloured birds whistle in the trees overhead, interrupting my thoughts as they proudly reciting their early afternoon song, alerting the other animals in the forest. A refreshing breeze meanders through the meadow, rustling the limbs of the trees and filling my ears with the symphony of the forest.

I shake my head, trying to focus. There's people out there trying to kill me! I can't stop to admire nature! But...it's too perfect to just ignore. "Stay focused, Sami," I mutter to myself as I walk parallel to the river.

But staying focused is hard. When I really stop to think about my current situation, I feel like rolling into a ball and crying. Only the fact that this wouldn't help me in the slightest prevents me from doing it. But what should I do? I don't know. Mr. White wants us all to fight, but...I know I'd never be able to do that. Sighing, I continue along through this mysterious forest.

Rays of sunlight playfully peak through the complex tangles of branches, casting a wonderful glow over the earth. As I cast my eyes down, my skin seems to glisten in the golden sunlight, before dulling again as I step out of the warming slither. Wild flowers of purple, yellow and white are sprinkled across the grass, creating a beautiful gradient across the expanse of the...

Someone steps out of the shadows.

I scream.

"No! Don't! Don't scream!" The figure steps closer and I slip over my own feet, hitting the grass at an odd angle. My hands go to shield my face when the person says something very odd. "I'm not going to kill you!"

"I...You're...not?" I look up in confusion, seeing the face of my would-be attacker for the first time. It's a girl my age, maybe younger, with dirty blonde hair and emerald green eyes. Freckles cover her face pretty thoroughly, bridging her nose and covering her forehead. Somehow, I don't feel very threatened.

"I promise I won't," She offers me her hand, and after a moment's hesitation, I take it. "You're one of the Challengers, aren't you?" She eyes me critically as she helps me up. Not that there's much to look at. I'm small, skinny, and look about as threatening as a twig.

"Yeah, I am. I mean, that's what Mr. White said I was," I feel awkward talking to this girl. Mr. White said that we had to kill the other Challengers, but did he say we always had to be fighting with them? I can't remember.

"I-I don't suppose you know where we are?" Her voice is shaky, laced with nerves. Her comforting green eyes slowly cast around the forest, taking everything in.

"We're in a forest," I say instantly, a smile on my face. It's a joke, but I don't think the girl gets it. She frowns.

"Yeah. Yeah, I realized that part. I meant; where is this forest? Who is Mr. White? Why'd he kidnap us? What does--"

"Woah!" I hold my hands up. "I know as much as you do. Or should I say as little?"

Her face looks crestfallen as she turns to look at me. "Right...sorry."

An awkward silence falls between us, broken only by the sound of birds. Feeling uneasy, I try to start up the conversation again. "I'm Sami," I tell her with a forced grin. "What's your name?"

"Huh?" She looks up from where she was studying her feet, obviously deep in thought. "Oh...I'm Bree."

"Nice to meet you, Bree." I greet her, but she's absorbed in her datapad, scrolling across the screen with a flicking finger.

"What did you say your name was, again? Sammy?" I tell her again and she nods, still watching the screen. By this time I've figured out what she's doing and am not surprised when she looks up and gives a curt nod. "You're #21," She tells me. "One spot below me."

"Yes. I'm the lowest ranked male," I've looked those rankings over only once, but that fact didn't escape me. I'm not too surprised, either.

"Your accent is funny," Bree speaks suddenly, her intense gaze studying my face. "Are you foreign?"

"Well...." I scratch my head, confused. I guess I am, to her. But what country are we even in? Or are we not even in a country? Mr. White said we were on an island, but I'm not certain where that island is. "I'm originally from Syria," I finally tell Bree. "But my family was fleeing when...when I--when all this--" I choke back a sob that threatened to burst out. Thoughts of my family has back to me, and my worry has increased tenfold.

"So none of us knows how we got here..." Bree murmurs to herself, turning away from me and looking into the river. I don't know what to do, so I just follow her gaze. She's staring up at some overhanging branches, were clusters of bright red berries grow. "You think we could eat those?" She asks.

I shake my head. "No."

"Why not? Those little animals are eating them." She waves a hand at some small furry creatures hopping around just over the river.

"No. We shouldn't eat any strange or unusual berries. Besides, I think I read somewhere that red berries are usually poisonous."

Bree shrugs, but I can tell that my explanation does little to sway her mind. At last she looks away from the berries. "What about that? Can we touch that backpack?"

"Backpack?"

Bree points a finger out and I see what she's talking about. A medium-sized black backpack hanging by its straps from a low tree branch. Carefully I approach it and, before grabbing it, I pick up a nearby stick and poke the bag, making sure it isn’t rigged to blow up like our collars or something. It doesn’t move or even tremble. That’s a good sign.

"Why are you poking it with a stick?" Bree crosses her arms as she watches me nervously poke away at the backpack.

"I dunno. Could have been a trap."

"And poking it with a stick would somehow have made the trap ineffective?"

Suddenly I laugh. The thought of the stick protecting me from an explosion is just too ridiculous not to crack up. Bree only manages a wry smile. "Right. Let's see what's inside."

I carefully slide the bag down and unzip it. Sticking my hands into the bag, the first thing I pull out is the most worrying. A large knife. It's the kind you'd imagine a survival man would carry along with him. Large, with a serrated blade ideal for sawing. It's exciting until you realize that this weapon is clearly meant for more than just surviving.

"You mean...Mr. White wants us to kill one another...with knives?" Bree's hushed voice carries over my shoulder, her face suddenly pale with fear.

"It's more personal this way," I mutter darkly. Of course Mr. White would want us to use melee weapons. Who'd want to see teenagers shoot each other to death when you can have them hack one another to pieces instead?

Placing the knife back inside the pouch it came in, I carefully clip the pouch to my belt. Funny. I don't remember wearing a belt before...

"What else do we have?" Bree reaches past me and pulls out a flashlight, which she turns off and on. I search the rest of the pack's contents and find some small useful items. A tube of some kinda medicine, crackers, a box of non-branded cookies. Nothing amazing, but food is always welcome. I'm stowing it all back inside the bag when the datapads on our wrists suddenly begin ringing.

"What is happening?!" Bree screams, springing backwards and staring at her arn like it's a wild animal.

"I don't know..." I lift the datapad up to my face and leap in alarm when the face of Mr. White suddenly appears.

"Congratulations to Sami Bitar and Bree Richmond! It appears that the two of you have found one of my supply packs!" His oily black hair seem to suck in all the light as he grins at the screen with a savage delight. "But you're not the first to do so; Haviana has already gotten herself a sickle, and Chris is arming himself as we speak!"

I share a dubious glance with Bree. So Mr. White is watching us all of us after all...

"But you are the first to form an alliance, which may just give you a hefty advantage. But perhaps not for long, as it appears Jotaro has just found himself a large club..." With one last wink, Mr. White disappears as quickly as he had come.

"Alliance?" Bree says aloud once the forest returns to silence.

"He knows that we're not going to kill one another," I tell her. Mr. White is more perceptive then I had thought. "And I think he's okay with that..."

"He's a psycho," Bree mutters. "Thinking we want to play his stupid game.." I agree, but I don't really have a choice. Mr. White holds all the cards. He wants us to play, so play we must.

Chris Barnard (12:58 P.M)
I crouch atop a large flat rock, looking down at the valley below me. Thanks to the completely visible map on my datapad, I'm exactly sure where I am; the high cliffs located on the northern end and one of the highest points of the island. I can see the entirety of island below me, rugged and craggy, rising sharply from the ocean. I can see everything.

The sloped forests are wreathed in thick fog, giving it a mysterious and threatening appearance. I would be frightened of what dangers this fog could conceal...if I wasn't ranked #1.

I'm the top of the class, the absolute best. No one can harm me. No one can touch me. I'm basically a god here, and everyone else is just a lowly mortal awaiting my judgment.

The hills on the northern end are much higher than anywhere else on the island, about a thousand feet above the ocean, if my rough estimates are correct. And they should be.

Self-consciously I check my datapad, something I've been doing for the past thirty minutes. Even since I first woke up I became aware of the map provided on my datapad...and the extra benefit I received for earning the number one rank. Every hour the map comes alive with blinking dots labelled with different numbers. I didn't know what any of this meant until I read the rules tab, wherein I learned that every hour my map would show me the positions of every other Challenger on the island.

And with this invaluable information, I can proceed ahead with my plan.

The clock suddenly shifts from 12:59 to 1:00. Almost immediately the tiny dots return to my screen, showing up all over the map of the island. The other Challengers are everywhere, from the beaches to the forests and even the collections of houses on the southern end. There's literally no where on the island without one of the blinking dots.

My gaze flies over them all, memorizing the key locations of the top five. #3 is hanging around the forest outside the resort, #4 is nearby, inside the tennis courts, and #5 is at the bottom of the cliffs, traveling in a circular motion around the forest. #2 is...just below me.

A broad smile breaks across my face and I immediately stand. My plan will go into motion almost right away, with very little delay. I grab my bow and sling it over my shoulders. I found this weapon--along with the quiver full of arrows I wear on my back--just lying on the ground not long after I initially woke up. It was very fortunate, seeing as how I've taken archery classes for years and have become quite an expert. Everything just comes up Chris.

I jog down the narrow path that winds down the hill. The early afternoon air is chilly and damp, and the further down I go the more the fog begins to thin, giving me a better look of the landscape.

The forests are obviously of a deciduous temperate variety, nothing special. But I notice that things begin to get more tropical looking the furthest south of the island. Just at the bottom of the cliffs, I can see some indistinct buildings nestled among plants. The resort, I think.

The locations of the other Challengers disappear from my datapad as I continue down the slope, but I don't need it anymore. The locations of the top five are burned into my mind and I doubt that they will get very far before I find them. Especially not #2.

I go only a few more paces down the hill before he cones into sight. Standing straight as he slowly and carelessly makes his way through the grouping of large gray rocks. A scowl plastered on his face as he nearly trips in the mild fog. His hands hold a knife, but that does nothing to worry me.

"Don't move!" I leap down from the path, landing hard atop a flat stone, bow already loaded with an arrow swiveling to face the boy.

The boy snarls in rage and immediately takes a step to the left, only for my arrow to slice past his head, mere inches away from skewering it. "Take another step and you're dead," I tell him.

His green eyes flash with fury, but he does as I command, going absolutely still. "I'm ranked #2," He growls, furious eyes never leaving my face. "You can't harm me."

I nearly burst out laughing. "Yes, I can. I'm #1. You didn't check your datapad very thoroughly, did you?" But I did. I spent a good amount of time studying the names and faces of the others, at least, those ranked in the top five. That's why I know his name, Nicolo Ambrosini.

"You're lying," Nic tells me, head raised high. Though it's stupid and wrong, I have to commend him for his sheer stubbornness.

"Really think so? Check your datapad then."

He does and then curses loudly as he recognizes my face as the one that belongs to #1. He's at my mercy. I allow myself a lazy smile. "So, you see, I have the ability to kill you. The only person on this island who can, actually."

The boy doesn't say anything. He's not too tall, being just under six feet and a half-foot shorter than me, but he's decently muscular and is definitely athletic. His #2 rank was no fluke.

"Don't think about it!" I tighten my grip on my bow as I notice his hand clench around the knife he holds. "I'd kill you before you even threw that knife."

"Why don't you just kill me now then?" He sneers the words with obvious distaste, but I can sense the uncertainty behind his tone. He knows that he's royally screwed. Unless, of course, I have a different plan.

"I'm not going to kill you," I tell him, lowering my bow. I enjoy the look of absolute bewilderment that crosses his face. "At least, not if you help me with something."

"What the hell are you babbling about?" Nic looks around as if he expects someone else to jump out and slay him as I lay my bow down upon the stone. He doesn't understand why I wouldn't just kill him in the spot. A helpful insight into how he thinks, certainly.

"I have a plan," I tell him. He only stares back blankly, confused. "You know that everyone can only kill Challengers ranked below them, don't you?"

"Of course I know that!" Nic snaps. "Everyone knows that!"

I continue, ignoring his hostile words. "Well, I came up with a plan that would ensure that us high-ranks would dominate the games."

The boy looks at me oddly for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing. "Oh? Did you now? I'm sure all that thinking must have been tough for you."

I bite my lip. This guy isn't much of a team player. He'll be quite the headache if my plan is to succeed, but he'd also help take the target off from me. Something that would prove most useful. "Are you listening or not?"

He shrugs. "Go on, finish your tale."

"Fine, I will." To show my annoyance, I pick my bow back up. Instantly his expression turns to one of slight discomfort. He doesn't like not being the one in charge. "Well, my plan is to find all of the other Challengers ranked within the top five and form a truce with them. We would all join together and hunt down the lower ranked Challengers. You see, they would be completely unable to kill us yet we would be able to kill them."

I don't mention the real reason I want this plan to work out; with all of the top killers on the island in my gang--and under my thumb--I will be simultaneously capable of being able to dictate who dies and who lives as well as keeping an eye on my biggest threats. Thus, I will be able to keep my highest rank. And as long as I'm ranked #1, no one can harm me. But I can harm them. Plus, I will be able to kill any of them at any time, useful if they grow too dangerous for their own good.

"Interesting," Nic, who has been silent throughout my speech, muses, patting the flat of his knife against his chin. "Very interesting. Except, you forgot the fact that all of us could already do this on our own. Thus, we have no need for this "truce" of yours."

I nod along. "Yes, but if we weren't together we'd be fighting one another as well, along with having a harder time tracking the others. You see, my map shows me the locations of every other Challenger..."

Nic looks up sharply. "What did you just say?" I repeat myself and he shakes his head in disbelief. "No frickin' way. They gave you that big of an advantage?"

I can't stop the smug smile that spreads along my face. "Yes. Yes they did." Conveniently I forget to mention the fact that it's only because of my #1 rank. Nic and the others may figure it out for themselves later, but for now it serves to let them think it's for some other reason.

"So," I incline my head at the smaller boy. "Are you in? Will you join me in my truce?"

Nic let's out a short laugh, throwing his arms out in the air. "Doesn't seem like I really have a choice, does it?"

I shrug. "Not really, no."

Eyes flashing with a curious light, he throws me a crooked smile. "Then I guess I'm in."

I return his smile with a wide grin. "Welcome to the team."

Umbreon Martell (1:35 P.M)
I sit with my back against the cliff wall that grows tall up at the corner of the beach, watching the water moving and receding as the tide changes. The scents of the beach reach my nose. I smell saltwater, I smell decomposing seaweed and other life forms. I smell the dead jellyfish that have washed up, the scent of the woods to my left brought on by the breeze wafting across my face, though it's not really a breeze so much as it is a pocket of disturbed air. I hug my knees as I stare out into the endless gray waves, only capable of thinking about one person.

Where are you, Espeon? Where have you gone, beloved sister?

I squeeze my eyes shut tight, trying to bring back memories of where I was before this dreadful beach. It's useless. I know it is. I've been trying and trying for the past hour and a half, trying desperately to reclaim some semblance of memories. Nothing comes back to me. Nothing alleviates the dark despair that I feel.

Mr. White's grinning face flashes across my mind. His ghoulish white sunglasses staring into my soul as he raves on about how he's kidnapped me and plans on having me killed by teenagers.

But I don't care much for that. I don't care what's happening to me. I'll find a way to survive, I always do. But what about Espeon? What has become of her? Mr. White didn't kidnap her as well, which means that he left her where she was. On the streets. Without me.

How will she survive?

My twin sister alone on the streets, with no idea where I've gone...How will she react? Will she be able to survive on her own? Where was she when I was taken? I can't remember. I can't remember...

My eyes blink open and I stare wearily at the ocean. Thick fog covers the waves, a recent addition to the scenery. Everything was bright and cheerful when I first woke up here. I was so confused, unable to think on how I would have gotten to a beach when we lived nowhere near one. Well, now I know. I wish I didn't. Then I could fool myself into thinking this was all a dream.

I shift my body further into the cleft of the cliffs, hugging my blanket close to me. I don't know why, but it was right next to me when I woke up. It, along with the clothes on my back and a small assortment of fruit I've found in the caves, are the only possessions I have. I'd feel good, if I knew that Espeon had some food and shelter. But I don't. I don't know anything about her.

Stifling a sob, I oll over onto my side and stare into the wall. "Espeon...I miss you..."

Lucas Adin (2:30 P.M)
The interior of the lighthouse is drafty and quiet. The bottom floor is a large, circular room filled with disorganized piles of packing crates. I've already cracked a few of these open with the help a knife I found just outside, but there's nothing inside but styrofoam and mothballs. Very peculiar.

It's very well that I found this lighthouse, for it will both protect me from the elements and has already given me access to a small amount of supplies. Along with my knife, I've found a slingshot, coil of rope, and a single flare. No food though. I'll need to find my own sustenance if I mean to survive for long.

I stiffen as a birdcall goes up outside. Eyes sliding over to the door. Is someone coming? No...The door remains shut. I rub my temples and sigh. This stupid "game" is making me more paranoid then I have ever been before. I'm worried about even the slightest of movement. It's understandable, of course. There's plenty of people out to kill me, if Mr. White is telling the truth.

I glance warily at the rickety metal spiral staircase that leads up to the lighthouses top floor. I want to check it out, but if someone were to come in here whilst I was climbing...There'd be no escape.

Not willing to take that chance, I grip a nearby crate by the edges and drag it over to the door, propping it right under the handle. Once I'm satisfied that it's securely blocked, I turn and head up to the top floor, taking two stairs at a time.

It's not long before I arrive at the top. Stepping inside the large circular rooom, I'm immediately drawn to the wide glass windows that encircle me on all sides. Bypassing the actual light producing portion of the lighthouse, I press myself against the window, gazing out on the island below.

It spreads out far below me. The golden sand of the westernmost beach is just nearby, waves crashing and receding along its shore. Green forest spreads alongside this, stretching far into the center of the island. Through the fog, I can just make out the vague form of a river winding its way through the trees, twisting and stunting as it reaches from one side of the island to the other. I make a mental note of its location. Water will be a very precious commodity in these Games.

To the north high cliffs covered in a thick fog jut out from the earth, towering even over the lighthouse. I suppose that a handful of Challengers will head up that way in hopes of avoiding the others, but for their sake I hope they have supplies. I very much doubt that they will find much in such a desolate and dreary locale.

Minutes pass as I survey the island grounds, jotting down notes and making plans. Water should be my first priority; I'll die shortly without any. And as I don't see any small ponds or streams in the forest--they're either concealed by the trees or nonexistent--and ocean water is not for drinking, my only course of action is to head for the river.

I'd rather not make such a perilous venture, especially not with a low rank like the one I currently possess, but I have no other recourse. I need water.

With a deep sigh I shake my head and stretch my legs. After I get the water I should return here. I have no idea how cold the nights will be and the fog that is gradually drifting down from the cliffs seems like it will make overall visibility degrade considerably. Something I do not want to experience first hand.

"Get some water, Lucas," I mutter to myself. "Get some water and return here. That's the plan." I suppose this is a test in how neatly plans go down in the White Games.

Imogen Sykes (3:43 P.M)
When I went to sleep yesterday, I never once thought that I'd spend the next afternoon aimlessly wandering an island forest with a girl named Oreo.

"I hate the wilderness," Oreo mutters as she pushes her way through the undergrowth that continually snags at our clothes.

"Uh-huh..." I murmur a response as I slowly follow behind her. The girl is pretty nice and rarely does anything to make me uncomfortable, but her appearance is...odd. Her hair is a bright pink, for one. And her eyes...for some unimaginable reason they're an intense shade of orange. When I first stumbled upon her, I'm not ashamed to admit that I thought she was a monster and screamed my head off.

Luckily, she didn't react too badly and we soon got around to talking. She explained that she was another Challenger, #24 to be exact, and asked if she could hang out with me. Well, I couldn't just say no. That would be wrong. Besides, I really wanted to have another person to wander around this strange island with. Being alone is the last thing I currently want.

So that's how we got to this point. I actually know very little about Oreo. But I do know that I can trust her because she's such a nice girl, and, well, she's so thin and fragile she doesn't look like she could harm a fly.

"Can we stop and rest?" Oreo stops and bends over, placing one hand against a tree as she pants. "I don't think I can continue at this pace for much longer."

I frown. We haven't been moving at a very fast pace, we've been walking slowly for the past two hours. But then again, we have been constantly moving for two hours. "Okay," I nod at her and plop myself down on the ground. "We can rest for a little while."

"Thank you!" Oreo flashes me a grateful smile and slowly, gracefully seats herself down, neatly tucking her legs underneath her.

It's slightly disconcerting how much she looks like a doll. Her head is round and thin, her nose is very small and only slightly pointed, and her neck is long and she's always holds her head high in the air, like she's challenging the world to comment on her appearance.

I scratch my neck in silence for a moment, wondering what I should say. "So..Oreo, huh? Like the cookie?"

"Huh?" Oreo looks up from where her orange eyes have been watching a beetle crawl up a nearby leaf.

"Oreo cookies," I say. "You know about them, right?"

"No...." Oreo's thin, almost non-existent eyebrows knit themselves together. "What are they?"

Huh. Doesn't know about Oreos...I'm surprised. You'd have thought that she would have been teased about her name for her entire life. I wonder if her parents even knew or if they just thought the name sounded good. "It doesn't matter," I say before Oreo can question me further.

"Oh. Okay."

We both fall silent again. The forest around us is alive with sounds, but they're all natural sounds I've heard a million times before while fishing with my father. If a person was nearby, I'd be able to tell by the way the wildlife would react.

Oreo isn't nearly as comfortable as I am though. She jumps at every little sound, even if the animal that made it is only a few feet away. And when the wind begins to pick up and shake the trees, she shrinks into the ground and stares into the sky with her wide eyes.

Obviously she's not used to nature, and its not helping that she's wearing a ridiculous multi-colored dress that matches absolutely nothing about her and that her shoes have high-heels.

Huh. Why is she dressed like that? "What were you doing?" I suddenly ask her. "Before....before all this?"

"Before...?" Oreo tilts her head to one side.

I gesture with my hands. "You know, before we woke up here? The last thing I remember was getting ready to sleep. I was going on a fishing trip with my dad in the morning and..." I trail off as thoughts of my parents come flooding back. Mr. White said that they would be watching on the internet...They must be worried sick about me. I flinch like a rusty nail has been driven through my chest.

"Oh!" Oreo nods. "Before we were kidnapped, you mean." She pauses, as if thinking. "I was at a dinner party. My parents were hosting it and just about everyone was there, so I had to come. I was watching the dancers, then..." Her eyes slide shut and small fingers stroke her head. "I can't remember. I know that something was happening, something important, but I can't remember!"

Her eyes shoot open and I see the distress reflected in her orange orbs. Despite feeling the exact same thing, my maternal instincts kick in. "It's okay," I say soothingly. "None of us remember. Mr. White did something to our heads, our memories. It's not your fault."

Oreo shakes her head. "I know, I know. But..." She bites her lip, staring off into the sky. "It just feels like there's something I should remember."

Well, I don't know what to make of that--if there's even anything to make of it--but I do know that we should get moving. There's twenty-two other Challengers on this island, and I unfortunately doubt they will all be as friendly as Oreo.

At my suggestion we both get up and head west. I feel like there should be something that way, as we've already spent a few good hours walking in that direction. This is an island, so we should eventually end up at the shore, right? Well, it'd be easier to get a grasp of what to do when we know the parameters of this island.

So west we go.

Oreo and I talk about our past lives as we walk. Apparently her parents are super rich and super lenient. They not only let her completely change her appearance, but they encouraged her as well.

She's also extremely creative, having always loved everything to do with art, including drawing, painting, photography, you name it. The girl is a serious artist. She even has a few of her own designs on her arms.

But the part of her life that most gets my attention is how socially withdrawn she is. She rarely speaks with anyone outside her mother and was often made fun of as a child. When I ask her why she's so friendly with me, she stops and gazes at me thoughtfully.

"You seem like a kindred spirit," She says. "I feel like you could understand what I do. Besides, you're nice and didn't kill me. That's always a good thing!"

I smile and thank her. She's right. I've felt the effects of being bullied, of being ostracized by others. Back in Boston I was always being bossed around and picked on. Even by someone I thought was my friend. Especially by him.

I don't understand. I've never been anything but kind to people. Why do they single me out? Why Oreo? Is there something wrong with us? Something we can't see? It can't be my personality or weight, but then--

"Imogen!" Oreo interrupts my thoughts, her small hands clinging around my shoulders and shaking me.

"What are you doing?!" I rip her hands off me and pull away. "Don't you think you should--"

"Challenger!"

My head snaps around. Making their way through the forest, not more than a dozen feet away, is another person. Small, thin and with strawberry blonde hair, I recognize the form of Nora as she grumbles and groans about the flies buzzing around her head. It doesn't seem as if she's noticed us yet.

"She's not a threat," I tell Oreo. "She's ranked #23. She can't harm me."

"She can harm me!" Oreo's hands clutch my arm so hard her fingernails dig into my skin. I can't possibly imagine why she'd be worried about Nora. The girl is younger and smaller than both of us, not to mention that she's also unarmed.

"She's not just--" Oreo doesn't allow me to take any time explaining. She leaps behind a large fallen tree and before I can protest, she's pulling me in beside her. "This is ridiculous!" I find myself furiously whispering as Oreo has us duck low behind the dying branches of the big tree. "She obviously isn't a threat!"

"You don't know that!" Oreo peeks through a gap in the branches, her wide eyes making look remarkably like a terrified owl.

As much as I've liked Oreo, I find her worry to be very much unnecessary here. Nora is probably the furthest thing from a threat that we have. In fact, I bet I could get her to team with us if I only asked. I try peddling the idea to Oreo and she gives me a dubious look.

"You could try," She says slowly. "But you'd have to speak to her on your own. I fully expect she'd attack me on sight. I'm the only one she's capable of killing, after all."

Ah. That explains her almost nonsensical fear then. Carefully I look up and watch Nora as she turns and begins to head back the way she came, grumbling all the while. She's still painfully unaware of our presence and I don't know if that makes our hiding ability good or her awareness very poor.

Either way, I have to be careful on how I approach herm I don't want to startle her and accidentally scare her off. That wouldn't work out for anyone. But before I can decide, Nora suddenly freezes. Her shoulders go rigid as her slowly turns to look up.

Then she screams.

The next instant a black figure drops from the trees, landing on Nora's shoulders and driving her to the ground. The girl's terrified screams echo around the forest as she scuffles around on the ground with her attacker.

"We have to help her!" I shoot to my feet, ready to jump to Nora's aid, when hands grab me from behind and roughly shove me back under the tree.

"Do you want to get yourself killed?!" Oreo hisses into my ear. Her hands are still wrapped firmly around my shoulders, determination flashing in her orange eyes.

"Get off me!" I try to throw her off, but when she stubbornly clings on I find that the girl has more strength then I had originally thought. "He might kill her!"

A particularly loud scream punctuates my words, and I'm about to fling Oreo off and leap out from hiding when Oreo's hand brushes a branch away and reveals a window to the attack.

Nora lies on the ground, arms pinned to the ground by her attackers knees. He's a boy, dressed entirely in black and with frizzy unkempt hair. In one hand he holds a stone the size of a baseball, the other clutches Nora's neck, holding her head in place. The trapped girl sees what he means to do and let's out one last scream.

"Help me! Oh, God! Someone help--"

The stone crashes down against her skull and she goes quiet. The boy cocks his head, as if curious to why she's stopped screaming. Then he raises the stone and smashes it down again, and again, and again. I feel bile rising in my throat and turn away from the scene to vomit.

"She's dead," Oreo's whisper sounds in my ears as I empty my stomach. "She's dead." The first fatality. Mr. White must be giddy with joy right now. How long did it take before we broke down and played his game? Three hours? Four? Not long enough. Not nearly long enough. I hold my eyes shut, try not to think about what I just saw. We're still in danger. If that boy finds us...We'd be the next to die.

Against my better wishes I turn back to observe the scene. The boy is now standing over Nora's corpse, staring down at it with a lopsided smile on his face. How could he smile after killing that poor girl? What is wrong with him?

The boy eventually turns away from the scene, making a small chortling noise. First I think that we've gotten off, that we'll be safe. Then something comes along to dash that thought.

Our datapads begin to ring.

It's loud and shrill, like a fire alarm. It comes from all our pads, even the boy's. On screen, a tiny red X flashes across Nora's face as she slips from 23rd place to 24th, bumping Oreo up one.

"Imogen...." Oreo tugs on my sleeve.

"Y-yeah?"

"Look." She points a finger at the boy, whose now standing with his head cocked to one side and staring right at us.

My throat goes dry and panic kicks in. "Oreo...run!"

Fausto Grandeur (4:05 P.M)
The alarm slowly fades away, the image of Nora Lemori ceasing to flash as it takes its new spot at the bottom of the rankings.

I stare at my armband for over three minutes, wondering what I should be feeling. According to the rules, this means that Nora is dead. Some girl has just been killed, been murdered, all for some stupid game. I should be mortified, horrified.

So why do I only feel relief?

Does this make me a terrible person? I don't know. Mr. White said that the only way for me to stay alive is for everyone else to die. So is it wrong when I'm glad to see the others die? Outside this island, I'd never--well, almost never--want to see anyone else die. But here...somehow I think being relieved at the girl's death is the proper feeling.

Messed up, huh?

I sit down on the edge of the large crate I've stumbled upon not more than twenty minutes ago. It was pretty lucky, considering that this thing was just sitting out in the open in the middle of a paradise-like beach. Can't believe no one else has found it.

I bite into an apple I've found inside the crate as I stare out into the waves, at the pounding surf and cascading waves, reflecting the light of the sun peeking through the clouds. Overhead, seagulls carelessly circle in the sky. My sockless feet touch against the golden sand, joyfully basking in the warmth of the day, even with the occasional cloud. Considering where I was before Mr. White "kidnapped" me, I'd say this situation was pretty swell.

If only I didn't have to worry about people trying to kill me.

I finish with the apple and chuck the core overhead, it lands on the sand behind me with a 'plunk' and rolls away. I don't care where it goes. Littering is perfectly acceptable on this island. Casually, I peek into the crate beside me. Along with the four remaining apples, I have a bag of salted pretzels, some kind of advanced night-vision goggles, and two different containers titled "Bromine" and "Chlorine". I feel like I could make something with those, but I'm not sure what.

Oh, and I also have this super wicked cool tent that I've already set up on the beach. Heh. Like I said, this is paradise.

Closing my eyes, I lean back on the crate and bask in the limited sun, just enjoying life. Mr. White probably would have made more money selling vacations to this place. He would have made a killing. Heh. Killing...It's kinda--

Screams fill the air, snapping me out of my daydreams. I'm on my feet, glancing around the beach, searching for something to defend myself. The undergrowth up on the forest is shaking, rapid movement sending birds flying into the air, screeching warnings.

No time. No time to run. I reach a hand into the crate and pull out the container of chlorine. It's better than nothing. I crouch beside the crate, adopting a defensive position. When they emerge, I'm going--

Two girls explode out onto the beach, screaming their heads off. They only get a few steps before the one in the back trips and smacks into the other, sending them both rolling forward and down a sand dune.

"What the hell is this...?" I'm not even worried anymore as I stand straight, watching the two girls comically roll down the sand dune right towards me like a scene from some bizarre movie.

They come to a halt just a few feet away from me. They lie flat on the ground, coughing and hacking as they slowly come to their senses. This gives me plenty of time to observe them, and I soon realize that they're both ranked lower than I am. They're also both very pretty, if a bit thin.

"Hello there!" I greet one of them, a blonde with shiny green eyes, as she slowly gets to her feet. "Nice to have you drop in."

She starts in surprise as her gaze slowly comes to focus on me, and I quickly hold a hand up. "Calm down, I'm not going to kill you." Not like I could, I don't even have a weapon.

She doesn't say anything, only blinking in gratitude before sitting back on the ground and staring off into space with a blank expression. Strange.

The other girl, a pink haired beauty wearing a fancy dress that's been ripped in several places, sits up and looks around with a narrowed gaze. "Imogen? Where...are we?" Her eyes, a curious orange, shift and find me. Immediately she squeaks in alarm and begins to crawl away.

"No! Wait!" The blonde leaps to her feet, running over and helping the other girl up. "He said he wouldn't harm us!"

"And you believed him?!" The girl turns on her friend with a glare. "After what we just saw? How can you trust anyone?!"

This is confusing and I don't like confusing. I raise both arms over my head in an effort to show my intentions. "I don't mean to harm you, you have my word."

The two of them share a glance. "You don't understand," The blond says.

"You didn't see what we did," The other agrees.

"Okay. What did you see?" It's a reasonable question, but the two girls blanch away like I asked them something insulting. Then, our datapads come to life. Naturally I pull it up to my face, where I spot Mr. White standing in his usual dark room, wearing his typical snarky smile.

"What did they see indeed. Do you really wish to know, Fausto?"

"What?" I'm taken back. He just spoke to me. Me. He used my name, responded to a question I just asked. But...how? I thought he was a pre-recorded message, but that's not the case evidently.

"Do you really wish to see?" Mr. White asks again, his gloved hands steepling together.

"Can you hear me?" I ask stupidly. He laughs.

"Of course I can. A one-way conversation would be inadequate, no?"

"But...aren't you speaking with everyone?" Doesn't the same message play across all the datapads? "Aren't the others seeing this?"

Mr. White smiles and wags a finger at the screen. "Of course not. I can project to individual datapads, if I so choose. I thought you'd grasp that fact. Apparently you're quite daft. Makes me think twice about my decision to free you from that unnatural cesspool I plucked you from."

Face reddening with a mix of embarrassment and shame, I open my mouth to snap off a retort when Mr. White cuts me off. "No, don't speak. It's not your turn just because I pause." He stops to adjust his suit, dusting it off with gloved hands. "Now, as I was saying, I can contact any single Challenger at any time and speak privately with them. Like thus."

My datapad suddenly goes blank and then I hear Mr. White's voice emitting from Oreo's wrist across from me. "See, Fausto? I am quite capable of this little feat." My datapad flickers back on and Mr. White is on my screen once more. "I did not expect I would need such a demonstration, but I had forgotten how stupid teenagers could be."

I don't say anything. He's purposely ticking me off, trying to make me lose my cool. Probably thinks it's good for ratings or something like that. "Oh? What's that? No snarky comeback? How quaint."

Still no reply. I'm not going to play his games.

"Very well. I will leave you with the video you had inquired about. Hopefully it will motivate you, because Nero is quite the little bugger."

The image of Mr. White shifts. Now my datapad shows something new, a video. A girl lies n the ground, screaming and thrashing. A boy sits atop of her, stone in hand as he proceeds to violently smash the girls face in.

My stomach churns. The video ends with the boy, Nero, standing victorious over the girl, her face smashed beyond recognition. He smiles just as the screen flickers off. "You saw this?" I ask the two girls across from me. I can't imagine how they felt. Watching that happen only a few feet away...

"It's terrible," The pink girl whimpers.

"He chased us," The blonde adds. "But we got away. I don't wanna think what could have happened if we didn't..." I don't either. That boy meant business, and his type of business isn't anything I want to experience.

"He won't find us here," I suddenly say.

"Us?" The girls look at me in surprise.

I nod. "I'm not going to let you out there on your own, not after seeing that." There's safety in numbers. And I can only hope that others don't make their own groups to combat our numbers.

Alana Salazar (5:47 P.M)
Dull waves of grey light presses slowly through the cold dark stone walls that forms my cave. I sit here in silence, looking out from one of the small cracks between the stone, scouting for potential Challengers approaching.

I see nothing, of course. I've seen nothing at all this day. Absolutely nothing. But that doesn't mean they're not out there, just because I can't see them. Someone could be out there right now, hiding behind one of the large black boulders or one of the sparsely laden pine trees.

I'm not sure where I currently am. I woke up not far from here, leaning against one of those pine trees. I looked around for a bit, wandered in a circle, then listened to Mr. White's message. After that, I stayed close to hiding positions as I fearfully kept an eye out for any humans.

So far I've seen none.

But my worry will not abate. I'm terrified by the prospect of being discovered by a high ranked Challenger, of being killed by their hand. I'm not silly enough to try and make myself think that I'm tougher than everyone else because I'm ranked fifteenth. I'm not strong or physical in any way. My best chance of survival is staying out of everyone's way.

So that's just what I'm going to do.

According to my datapad, a girl has already been killed. I didn't know her, but she seemed similar to me. Small, slight, quick. Maybe intelligent. Somehow, I think I would have gotten along with her. But now she's dead.

I spent a good amount of time studying the faces of the other Challengers, wondering which one of them killed her, which one was a murderer. It could have been anyone, Nora was #23, so everyone could kill her. Except for Oreo.

Outside, the wind begins to pick up and fog rolls in. Not too thick, but it's very presence unsettles me. It could conceal anything, in fact...it could help conceal me.

Should I risk going out? I need water. When I woke up, I did find a small packet lying nearby, but it didn't have any water. Just a blowgun, three darts, and a box of matches. Nothing that would help quench my thirst.

It wasn't bothersome at first, but now it has been hours since I've woke up, and who knows how long since I've last had a drink. I need water or I risk becoming dehydrated. And that would not do.

So I have to risk going outside.

I crouch down and begin to squeeze myself through the tiny gap that serves as the caves entrance. As uncomfortable as forcing myself through this gap every time I want to leave is, I know that this works to my advantage. If I, being as small and lithe as I am, have trouble fitting inside, I know that the larger people on this island will have no chance of ever getting inside.

After escaping the narrow tunnel, I emerge into the outside world. Fog is everywhere, clinging to the high cliff walls at my back and wreathing around the pine trees. I take a tentative step forward, half-expecting to be assailed by some unseen attacker. But of course, I don't.

"Hope a stream is nearby," I mutter as I head off towards the forest in the distance. I begin to walk in patterns, hiding behind rocks and stones and ledges, checking for any other humans every now and then. Near the horizon the sun is smouldering dimly, almost obscured by formless fog and vapors, giving off an impression of mass and density without outline or tangibility. It adds to the creepiness factor immensely.

I'm shivering from a slight chill when I hear a very welcome sound. Running water.

I push through the fog, hastily heading for the sound. The forest is still a bit in the distance, leading me to believe that this is a mountain stream leading from the cliffs to the north. I go only a few paces more before I stumble upon it.

Milky white water runs in a fast pace between the rock cleft, sparkling rocks shining from underneath the water. It would have been pretty had the sky not been so grey and the rocks around me not been so black and intimidating.

I crouch and slowly sneak towards the stream. Upon reaching it, I kneel and cup my hands into the water, allowing the icy cold water rush over them. I lift the water to my mouth and drink. It's hard to describe how it feels... When you're this thirsty, water feels like the sweetest of nectar running down your throat. I take another grateful gulp and then a few more.

By the time I get my fill, I'm thinking of ways I could make a container to try and store some of this water. It will not do to expose myself like this every time I need a simple drink. Perhaps I can think of something, but not now. My usually bright mind feels slow and sluggish. I need rest and some sleep. Then I can come up with something. I turn to head back to my cave.

He appears before I can react. Before I can yell out. He's just there. Wind billowing against frame. Big eyes peering over his large nose as he opens his mouth and reveals a missing front tooth. He takes a single step forward.

And I punch him in the face.

He cries out in pain and stumbles backwards, tripping over a loose stone and falling backwards into the river, where he splashes down with a shriek.

I turn and sprint away as he flails about wildly, yelling and gasping in the icy water. The fog whips against my face as I hurtle through the moor, desperately pumping my legs and jumping over fallen stones.

Is he chasing me? Does it matter? I hurtle over a large stone and land on my feet, only to promptly slip on a smooth stone. I let out an exclamation of sharp pain and push myself back up with violent effort, one hand shooting to my ankle. Everything seems faint and dizzy, I put out my free hand while reeling backwards, seeking support against the air. When I finally steadied myself I stepped forward, but reeled again and nearly fall. I grit my teeth and shake my head, forcing myself onwards.

My left ankle sears with tremendous pain as I limp forward, rushing for my cave. I don't want to think of what might happen if he catches me.

Soon my cave comes into sight and I throw myself on the ground, frantically squirming myself through the narrow gap. Panting and gasping the whole way.

It's not until I'm safely inside do I lie down and collect my thoughts. My ankle still hurts like hell, but I ostensibly check my datapad, searching for the face of the boy who surprised me at the river.

When I find him, I feel extremely stupid.

He's ranked lower than I am, much lower. He couldn't have hurt me. I ran away and hurt myself for no reason.

I'm such an idiot.

Justine Leonard (6:45 P.M)
I come upon the resort lodge just as the sun begins to sink behind the foggy clouds. The entire lodge is surrounded by a fence, with bars of inch thick steel. The fence is gracefully decorated and painted black to resemble wrought iron, but no cosmetic effect can hide the thickness of the metal or it's twelve-foot height.

It may be a resort, but it looks a lot like a fortress.

I drift along the edge of the fence, seeking a way inside. The bars are too close together to slip through, even for my lean frame. At first I don't think I'll find a way inside, and I begin to grimace at the thought of spending the night out in the forest, where any other Challenger could stumble upon me, when I spot the gate.

I sidle up to the gate and give it an experimental tug. It's unlocked. Good. I slip inside, the metal hinges of the gate, rusted from the constant fog, creak loudly as I shut it behind me. I wince. If anyone else was nearby, they could have heard that.

Hopefully no one else is nearby.

Beyond the fence, I come upon a swimming pool, which spills over with waterfalls and other rocky pools. Large ferns grew close around the waters edge, giving the place an overwhelming paradise-island like image.

Hah. Did Mr. White make all this himself? For some reason I don't think so. It would be far too much work for the smarmy guy. But...then who did? Does he have a crew working for him? Or was this all here before Mr. White found the island? It's a possibility, albeit an unlikely one.

Regardless of how this place came to be, I just need to find shelter.

Two buildings come into view as I walk past the bubbling pool. One is beige colored, with a low roof and spherical glass domes stretching dramatically above. The other is two stories high, entirely glass, and with exposed black anodized girders and support beams. It looks determinedly modern, yet extremely fragile. It seems that a single stone could send the entire building collapsing.

With this disturbing thought in mind, I choose to enter the first building.

Entering the lowly door, I find myself inside a great hall. A reception desk sits nearest the door, empty except for being covered with papers and a bust of Benjamin Franklin's head. Clusters of solid, simple furniture hug light hardwood floors. Vast tapestries hang on the walls, woven with strange markings and hieroglyphs. A stacked rock fireplace that climbed to the ceiling dominated the far wall and a roaring fire blazed inside.

I frown when I see this. Why is it on? Doesn't it require someone to light it? Suddenly very uneasy, I glance around at the adjacent hallways, all of them branching off with separate doora that most probably lead to bedrooms. This is a resort, after all.

The thought of the rooms gives me the unimaginably creepy image of someone hiding in a room, waiting for me to just let my guard down so they can jump out and get me... "Get ahold of yourself, Justine!" I slap my own head as I walk up to one of the tapestries. Like anyone would hiding here just waiting for me. They'd have better things to do then just wait for me. There's twenty-three others to kill, after all.

Mind put at some ease, I study the tapestry before me. It probably wasn't a good idea, as its actually pretty creepy. Engraved with images of strange monsters, like deer-headed men and a giant figure made out of what looks like blades. Then there's a tribe of hunters, and a pack of ferocious wolves. I'm vaguely reminded of Native American drawings and stuff like that. Did some ancient tribe once live here? Or were these imported?

Thump!

Something heavy slams against the floor and I spin around, eyes bugging with fear. A person stands in the doorway of one of the halls, staring at me with an incredulous expression.

I let out a scream. Not of fear, no. My scream is of pure joy.

"Felix!" I cover the distance between us at a mad sprint, throwing my hands around my brothers neck and pulling him in for a hug as tears pour from my eyes. "It's you! Oh, God. It's really you!"

"I...Justine?" My twin brother's voice cracks with emotion as his own hands wrap around me in a hug. "How...why are you here?"

I'm sobbing too hard to answer. I thought he was dead. I thought I'd never see him again. Images of the last time I saw him flash through my mind. When he was taken.

I would never see Felix again.

Until now.

"H-how...were did you go?" I finally force out through my stammering lips.

"I don't really...It's long and hard to explain." Felix sounds utterly lost. His despair breaks my heart. "But why are you here? I didn't see your name on the rankings.

That stuns me. I remember checking my own list, and I could have sworn he wasn't there. Did..did Mr. White purposely hide us from each other? But that would--

"Oh, hello there."

A new voice splits through the air. Felix and I break apart and turn to see a trio of large, muscular boys standing in the entrance to the lodge. Two of them hold knives. The third holds a bow loaded with an arrow.

This he aims right at Felix's skull.

A sinister smile spreads across his face. "I think we should have a little chat."

Tristan Kaplan (6:59 P.M)
Chris smiles as he aims his bow at the tall, blue haired boy. His sister's face pales as she crowds around him, watching the three of us with wide eyes.

"A chat about what?" The boy--Felix Leonard, if the rankings are to be believed--retorts, eyes narrowing against the tip of Chris' arrow. I don't know how they were so hard to find. Even with them appearing on Chris' map every hour, they still somehow managed to elude us until now.

I feel bad for them. Especially since they have no idea what's going on. They don't know that Chris doesn't really plan on killing them, that Nic and I aren't just some hired goons. They don't know any of this. They're just terrified out of their minds, frightened that we're about to kill them.

In short, they're reacting just like I did when Chris and Nic cornered me in the forest and forced me to join their "alliance".

Chris smiles again. Really, he should stop with those. It just makes him look evil, or maybe constipated. Both. Constipated evil. "About you two joining our alliance."

"Group?" The girl, Justine, shifts her gaze from Chris to Nic to me and then back to Chris. "You guys are an alliance?"

I stifle a scornful laugh. What else would she think we were? A boy band? Chris merely cocks his head. "Yes, we are. And I am offering you a chance to join..."

And thus begins his proposition. I've heard it before, when he was offering me the chance to join him. It's not really a choice though, when your only options are "join me or die." Would anyone choose to die? Maybe a retard, but no sane person would.

So I chose to join them. Usually I'd never let someone control my actions like this, I hate being bossed around, but this is a special case. Chris made it very clear that my only chance at survival was at his side.

But herein lies a problem. I'm stuck at Chris' side. His plan is for us to hunt down the other Challengers as a group, to use our combined might and privileged ranks as security buffer between us and our victims. Sounds good, right? Well, not if dislike the thought of killing innocent kids as I do. Then this "alliance" is anything but good. Not that I let the others know that.

Chris continues his sales pitch and the Leonard siblings watch him with curious eyes. They like what they hear, but I don't know if it's because they relish the thought of running roughshod over the island or are just glad he's letting them live.

I glance sideways at Nic. The other member of our alliance, he had already been recruited by Chris before I met him. As such, I don't know how he reacted to the idea. What I do know, is that he harbours a very obvious grudge against Chris. Anytime the taller boy looms away, I catch him glaring ominously at him, or rolling his eyes at, and clenching his fists together whenever Chris asserts his authority.

But I don't think it's the implications of violence that upset him. Anytime fighting or killing is mentioned, I think I see a sinister light flicker on in his eyes. Nic reminds me of Dominic Frato, a guy I knew back in Detroit. Only, he seems like a competent Dominic. Which is a very frightening thing.

"That's a great idea!" Felix says once Chris finishes with his offer.

"Yeah!" His sister nods her head quickly. "Brilliant!"

Once again I don't know if they're just telling him what he wants to hear or if they actually mean it. I guess it doesn't really matter.

"Then welcome to the team!" Chris slings the bow across his back and smiles broadly. "Meet Nic and Tristan!"

There's brief introductions, if you really call them that. Nic isn't one for small talk and merely grunts at them. I don't want them to think me weak, so I tip my head coolly and say a few words. I can't help but notice how Felix's eyes narrow.

"Great group you got here," He says to Chris.

The tall boy shrugs. "Mr. White was really the one who chose them. I merely put them together." He can't hide the pride that swells in his voice. Uppity prick.

"So what now?" Justine eyes Nic and I cautiously, as if she doesn't quite trust us. The feelings mutual. I'm well aware that, despite being #5, I'm the lowest ranked Challenger present. I'm the only one everyone can kill.

My grip tightens around the dagger in my hand.

"Have you searched this building for supplies?" Chris asks the pair. "Or hiding Challengers?"

The two exchange a look then shake their heads. "No," Felix speaks for them. "We haven't."

"Then let's search."

Chris begins to order us all to split up, but it becomes obvious that Justine refuses to leave her brother's side. It takes some bargaining, but eventually Chris has them both go up to search the second floor. After they're up the staircase and out of earshot, he turns to us. "I'm going to stay in the lobby. Don't want those two ditching."

"You don't trust them?" I ask, surprised.

He turns and gives me a long, searching look. "No. No, I do not. They're siblings, meaning they're closer to one another then anything else." He pauses to scratch his chin. When he continues, it's more like he's mumbling to himself. "That bond makes them dangerous...might have to deal with them...sooner--" He suddenly notices that we're still here. "What are you waiting for? Get searching!"

Nic takes the east wing so I'm left with the west wing. As I enter the first room, a simple, beige colored place with rattan furniture and a unresponsive television, I think back to what Chris just said.

Deal with them sooner? Sooner than what? Has he been plotting to get rid of them? I don't know if that should come as too much of a surprise. Everyone has to kill everyone else for them to live. No wonder Chris has a plan to deal with threats. But...

That includes me, doesn't it? Does he already have a plot to deal with me too?

I grit ny teeth together as I look into the closet. There's nothing inside but stacks of lumber and an electrical conduit, so I move on to the next room. All the while worrying about Chris and the others. This is really a very tremulous alliance. If Chris ever wanted to kill one of us, he could do it without fear of repercussion. Without us being able to harm him. Even Nic has that advantage; only Chris poses a threat to him.

This alliance sucks.

The next few rooms I check are similarly outfitted. Furniture, bed, TV, but no supplies. Just a standard room. It's not until I reach the very end of the hall do I find a rustic survival box hidden under the bed. Inside is iodine, food, a compass, a toothbrush, matches, and simple bandages.

So Mr. White was telling the truth when he said there was supplies hidden around the island. Something tells me that there are more important items hidden in the wilderness then little survivor kits. Weapons? Transportation? Armor? Technology? Mr. White can't mean for us to kill one another with just simple hunting knives. More dangerous and advanced weaponry must be hidden elsewhere.

My assumption is proven correct when I return to the lobby and meet up with the others. Chris is swinging a sword around, laughing as it swishes through the air. Nic also returns with a wicked looking machete, and when the Leonard's return from the second floor, I see that Felix is holding a spear.

"Where did you find all those?" I ask, trying to sound only mildly curious. I don't like the fact that everyone ranked above me--and thus able to kill me--have such deadly weapons. The hunting knife I found embedded in a tree before Chris and Nic recruited me will do little against those.

"It was under the counter," Chris points his blade at the reception desk. "Who'd have thought they'd hide such an awesome weapon there?"

"What do you have there?" Nic eyes the box in my arms.

"See for yourself." I set it on the desk and everyone crowds around as Chris goes through the items inside. He takes great interest in the food, a canister of cold soup and wrapped jerky, but passes the rest off as junk.

"Why would we need this?" He holds the compass in one hand. "When we have a map on our datapads? Useless!" He tosses it over his shoulder and returns to oogling his sword. I slyly go retrieve the compass. Just because we have a map doesn't mean a compass is useless. I'd thought he'd understand that.

Soon we begin discussing our next move and Chris is all for going out into the now dark forest and hunting down Challengers. "Not a good idea," Felix says, not looking the taller boy in the eye as he shoots down his plan. "We'll have a lot of trouble finding anyone in this darkness, even with their location being broadcast on your datapad."

Chris eyes him coldly. "You scared of the dark?"

A spark of anger flares in Felix's eyes, and he begins to step forward when his sister grabs his arm. Slowly, he looks down, anger abating. "No. I'm not afraid. But I'm smart enough not to go running out into a dark forest, where we could twist an ankle or fall down a ravine. We don't have a movable light source, you see."

A scowl forms on Chris' face but he knows Felix is right. Rushing out into the darkness would be foolhardy at best, dangerous at worst. So he fakes a smile and tells Felix that he's right, that we'll stay here until it gets light out. "Get some rest."

Chris stalks off down the hall, out of sight. Immediately the two Leonard's crowd together, speaking to each other in low voices. Nic snorts and and crosses his arms, his green eyes flickering all over the room.

My stomach rumbles and I drift across the room, to where a glowing neon vending machine rests. I stop before the glass, staring longingly at the bags of chips and candy bars trapped inside. If only I had some money with me, then I could--

Smash!

I yelp in fear, leaping away from the vending machine as the glass suddenly shatters into pieces.

"Oops" I turn and see Felix beside me, a lopsided smile on his face. Inside the machine, I see the sculpted bust of Benjamin Franklin that he used to smash the glass. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Felix grabs a handful of bags and candy, stuffing some in his pockets while bringing the rest over to Justine. I watch him walk away with a glare, not at all thrilled about how stupid he just made me look.

"Good. Some grub." I'm shoved out of the way as Nic comes up, snagging as much food as he can. When he's finished, he turns to me with his arms full. "Where's the drinks? Shouldn't there be another machine for them?"

I rub my shoulder ruefully. "I think I saw another machine out by the pool."

Nic nods and departs without so much as a thank you. "Asshole." I mutter under my breath, louder outburst only prevented by the knowledge that he could kill me. And for some reason, I think Nic is the kind of guy who would kill for even the slightest offense.

I collect my own food from the machine and retire to an empty corner of the room, sitting beside a plastic plant. The Leonard's are still talking amongst themselves. I don't like it. What if they decide to desert in the middle of the night? Kill me and leave? What if any of them decide to do that? They're all capable...

For this reason, I don't expect to get any sleep tonight.

Johanna Cisse (11:30 P.M)
I head east through the woods, going further south then I ever have before. I stay along the edge of the woods, keeping the outlines of houses just in sight. It's some kind of suburbs, but that doesn't make sense for an island. Why would it be here? No one lives here. What are the houses for?

Streetlights cover the asphalt road that winds between the houses with a glowing yellow light. They illuminate the streets, letting anyone who may be hiding in the houses know if someone is lurking outside.

It's what's keeping me away from the houses. Away from the possibility of supplies and shelter. I don't want to tangle with others, but those lights make it almost impossible to get close to a house without being seen.

I stop my movement when I reach the end of the houses. They cut off abruptly, just before the forest. I stare into the dark windows of the nearest house. Nothing moves. Just blackness. But when I look to the streets, I see something.

Sitting on the asphalt pavement, just in the middle of the street, with elbows propped up on the curb and a bottle of dark, sloshy liquid in hand, a girl reclines.

A streetlight hovers right over her, illuminating her every aspect. Pretty chocolate brown hair that's a mess on her head. Long, athletic legs spread out in front of her as she sits mindlessly on the streets, taking another swig of the bottle.

Who is she?

I check my datapad, and the girl sticks out from the others like a sore thumb. Victoria Sinclair, #9.

My hands ball into fists. I was hoping she'd be ranked lower than me, that I'd be able to rip that bottle from her hands and smash it over her head. I doubt she'd be able to stop me. She looks completely inebriated.

How did she receive such a highrank? And I such a low one? I've who succeeded at everything I've ever attempted, receives top grades, and never once made a mockery of myself? How did I get ranked so low?

These rankings are flawed, or perhaps biased. Of the ten lowest ranked Challengers, eight of them are female, with only two being male. And looking at their pictures, they seem to be middle-eastern.

Great. So Mr. White is sexist and racist.

I shake my head and slip further into the forest, leaving Victoria to her bottle. The night is alive with sounds, with chattering of insects and hooting of owls. I shiver as a cold wind blows through, bringing with it the first trace of fog.

When I first woke up, I was on some high hill, overlooking the island. Initially I refused to believe Mr. White. I was certain that this was all some trick or cruel joke--I'm still not certain it isn't some kind of elaborate prank. I don't know whose behind it though--and didn't really know what to do. After a few hours of being utterly alone in the woods, I began to search for a supply cache. Mr. White said there were many, so I thought they'd be a cinch to find.

I was wrong. I spent an entire afternoon combing the woods in a futile attempt to find anything. Once, while digging through a rotten stump, I heard someone approaching and was forced to hide inside a fallen log as a giant boy passed by, carrying a huge wooden club. He didn't notice me though, thank goodness. Judging by the look on his face, he didn't have good intentions.

I pass through a humid glen where a dark loch offers me the chance to get catch a drink, my first in several hours. Mud covers my legs. Bugs flit over the cold water. The earth feels good beneath my fingers as I bend to drink.

As I'm moving away from the loch, back into the woods, I see a bright red light shoot up into the western sky, not very far from my current location. It hangs in the sky, far above the treetops, for several moments. Red smoke billows up around it. It's odd. Almost like some sort of signal. Has the government found us? Did they send up a flare for us all to know where to go? My datapad rings before I can react, and Mr. White is back on screen.

He's in a darkened room, nothing but impenetrable blackness behind him and his white suit as he grins into the screen. "Hello, Challengers! Enjoying your first day in the Games? I know that the viewers are! Your actions are blowing up over social media! The world can't get enough of you!" I find little value in his words. Mindless boasting is just that; boasting for the mindless. "But the day is not quite over yet. Do you all see that flare up there?"

I glance back to the sky, where the flare still hangs in the balance. My heart drops. So Mr. White sent it up. I was hoping that I had been rescued...

"That, my dear Challengers, is the signal for a supply drop!" Mr. White swirls his fingers around, pointing to the sky. "When you see that flare and smoke, you know that an airdrop will soon commence. Fifteen minutes after the initial appearance of the flare, to be exact." He pauses, letting his words sink in. "After the fifteen minutes are up, a crate containing supplies will be dropped. Much like the caches I've hidden around the island, these will contain items that may help you during the course of the game. Only, thees typically hold much more valuable items..."

I bite my lip so hard it bleeds. Items? Food? My stomach feels it's eating itself. I want food. Need food. And if this airdrop can give me it...

"You'd best hurry," Mr. White says with a wicked grin. "Because others will surely want the same as you. You may get into a fight...Which would be the most appropriate nightcap to this day!" The screen flickers off and I'm left in the darkness of the forest.

I don't know what to do. I don't know if my enemies are lurking in the woods around me. I don't know if they're making alliances against me. I don't even know how the damn game is even played. But the others may feel the same. And if they don't know what to do, they will invariably do nothing.

So I must act.

I break into a sprint, watching the sky to gauge how close the flare is. The trees around me make it hard to see, but it's not far. I could reach it before others, if I'm fast enough.

And will the others try? It's late, almost midnight. Surely they should be asleep? And I'm on the very southern tip of the island. Unless they're nearby, I should get there before they do.

Unless I'm not fast enough.

I quit thinking and focus solely on running. It's hard, the forest floor is laced with hazardous rocks and broken twigs. I nearly fall twice, then trip over a small hole and nearly break my ankle as I skin my elbows falling across a packet of sticks.

I don't go so fast after that. I tune my mad sprint down to a careful jog, watching where I place my feet. The moonlight and the red glow of the flare help with this. The forest is quiet. Too quiet. Just the crunching of my feet and the rasping of my breath. I pray that the others aren't close by, listening.

The woods end quicker than I thought they would. I come upon an empty lowlands, where only a few scraggly bushes grow. There's a river to the right. A single, kilometer high hill overlooks the small plain where the smoke billows. The fading light of the flare hangs over head.

I made it! I smile triumphantly before bending over, gasping and catching my breath. Now that I'm here, I should be able to claim the prize. Unless...unless someone is hiding in the woods that encircle the plains.

As this thought strikes me, the crate appears overhead.

It drifts slowly downwards, a large white parachute attached keeps it from plummeting. It's high in the sky and seems to take forever to lower. Come on! I find myself silently urging the crate on. Anyone could wander up as it comes down! I don't have the time for this!

The crate takes a ponderously slow time in reaching the ground, where it settles right in the center of the plain. White parachute covers it up as the air disappears from underneath it. It's done. I can finally get some supplies...

Yet something is wrong.

There's several meters of open space between the crate and I. The river gurgles in the distance to the right. Forest to the left. Plains straight ahead. Mountain beyond the river. Wind rustles the long grass on the edge of the forest. An owl swoops down and then suddenly flares back up in alarm. I curse quietly.

Someone is hiding in the grass. Probably watching and waiting for someone else to make the first move. But is anyone else here other than me and them? Possibly. My chances of survival would be next to none in a melee. But I'm very hungry. And that makes me willing to take risks.

I watch the grass for several long moments before making up my mind. I'm going for it!

He acts before I can. Standing up straight, emerging from the long grass as he rushes for the crate. His long legs let him cross the open field quickly and he reaches the parachute in no time.

Damn. I hesitate for another second, wondering if I could take him. But then I see the moonlight glinting off the machete in his hand and I know that my hopes of getting this supply drop are finished.

I watch as the boy rips the parachute off of the crate and uses his machete like a crowbar to wedge the crate open. Then I can't take it anymore. I turn and speed away into the woods.

Stupid. Stupid! I am so stupid! I shouldn't have waited! Why didn't I act sooner? Then that crate could have been mine. Instead it now belongs to that boy. #13, I think. Not that it matters his rank. Only the fact that he got the supplies and I didn't. Stupid!

I'm unaware of where I'm stumbling until my feet splash into water. Confused, I look down and see that I've wandered into a frothing, churning stream of foamy water. A distant, dull thundering can be heard up ahead, and I recognize the sound immediately; it's a waterfall.

Instinctively I follow the river. I get out of the water, but stick close to it. My feet thud against warm rocks as I head along, the light of the moon guiding my path.

The waterfall towers into sight before long. A huge towering thing that rose high into the rocky cliffs. A tremendous sheet of white water rushes down into a pool basin at its foot, where the frothing bubbles boiled and stirred as they were swept by the current downstream.

A chilly mist hangs into the air, wetting my face as I stumble along the pool, glad for the roaring and pounding of the falls. No one will be able to hear me here.

Suddenly exhausted from my restless day, I look around for shelter. Downstream I see nothing but an empty grassy plain. Nowhere to hide there. Upstream led straight to the cliffs and...I see a small dirt path leading up towards the waterfall.

I take the path. It brings me much closer to the waterfall, and the roar picks up the intensity. The rocks become slippery, the path muddy. There's a constant hanging mist that makes me feel like I'm moving through a cloud. The path turns narrow and becomes difficult to navigate. Then it suddenly seems to veer straight into the waterfall.

Wait. No. It goes behind the waterfall.

I sidle along the path, hugging the wall. I don't fancy taking a swim in the water. The night is already chilly enough. Soon I'm completely behind the roaring funnel of water, unable to see out from the silver sheet. "No one will look here..."

I'm surprised when I turn around. There's a recess in the cliffs here, as I expected. But not as I expected, the recess is filled with machinery. Humming pumps fill the room, big filters attached to a large, complex looking machine. Pipes are everywhere, running in elaborate crisscross patterns along the walls and slipping through gaps in the ceiling.

"What is this place?" I can barely hear myself over the roar of the waterfall. Cautiously, I approach one of the machines, poking it with a tentative toe. Why is this here?

The place gives me the creeps. The air is still and cold, water drips from the ceiling at a constant plinking. I drift through the room, examining the machinery and pipes with genuine curiosity. It's not only surprising that they're here, it's also that they're all working. Don't they require maintenance and constant check up? How do--

I reach the back of the room and laugh.

A plain, nondescript metal door sits before me. Marked in simple black lettering are the words Maint 03.

"Here's the maintenance room," I shake my head. Hilarious.

Unfortunately, the door is firmly locked. I try it several times, but it doesn't budge. There's no keyhole either, so I'm left wondering how it works when I notice the small box to the left of the door. Flipping open the lid, I find a 9 numbered keypad. "Of course," I enter a random series of numbers and am greeted with an alarmingly loud buzzing. Incorrect. "It needs a code. Of course it does."

I shut the panel and return to my investigation of the room. While I find nothing else as interesting as the door, I do find a pair of items that hold far more value: A coil of hemp rope, and a net woven of thick, interlocking twine.

I'm studying the net when my datapad suddenly comes alive and the face of Mr. White is once again on my hand.

"Hello, Challengers! I would like to tell you that it is now officially twelve o'clock P.M. That means you all spent a total of twelve hours on my island. Congratulations!" He gives a slow, golf clap as a condescending grin spreads along his face. "Well, not all of you managed to survive. Poor Nora Lemori...Well, I'll let you see for yourself."

My screen flickers and changes to show another, very different image. It's a brutal, visceral murder. A boy savagely cracks a girls head apart with a single rock, smiling crazily and eyes twitching non-stop. Then the image is gone and Mr. White is back.

"Don't feel too bad for her," He says, voice deep and sonorous. "Because if she hadn't died, I would have been forced to randomly detonate one of your collars. And that would have been very unfortunate, no?"

I grit my teeth together, grinding them back and forth. Despite what I had previously thought, this is no trick. Mr. White is real. He's kidnapped us. He is killing us. He will kill all of us.

"Nora did not belong in these Games," Mr. White is still talking, still drawling on. "She was not what I sought. She accepted society's lies at face value, accepted the garbage they spew to keep themselves happy. She did not see through the lies. Did not even attempt to. She was what the world is; a placid, timid thing that shies away from discovering the truth."

What is he talking about? Nothing he is saying makes any sense. I begin to think that perhaps our captor isn't quite sane. But he's not done, still rambling on and on.

"Nora Lemori deserved nothing more than the death she received. She accepted the lies and falsehoods that rot the world to its core, and thus, she fell as the world will fall. But...what will become of the rest of you? Will you see the truth? Or will you buy into the same lies and shroud of untruths that Nora--and the world--did? Will you emerge from this island, victorious, whole, complete, and understanding of the truth? Or will you fall into the cloud of lies, never to emerge again?"

He pauses. Hands splaying to his side and a patient smile upon his face. "Your fate, dear Challengers, is to be decided by you and you alone. This is your game. Your chance to seek out what everyone else hides from. Your opportunity to show the world that watches you want they hide from. I am merely here to guide you."

Another pause. He turns his head, and suddenly, I feel like he is staring into my very essence. "It is your game, Challengers. And it will be your actions that decide your fate. Your choices will decide if you survive...or if you die."

He nods at the screen and turns around, only to spin back towards the screen a fraction of a second later. "Oh, I almost forgot. The Rankings are now going down. Our lovely viewers will vote for whom they like most and I will do a quick tabulation of your performances. When the Rankings return tomorrow at noon, you will notice that places have changed. Perhaps it will be to your liking, or perhaps not. I suppose we shall see." Mr. White flashes a grin, his perfect teeth gleaming in the darkness. "But until then...have a very peaceful night."

The screen flickers off, and I'm alone with my thoughts in the dark cavern. The roar of the waterfall is loud in my ears, but my mind is stuck on everything Mr. White just said. I don't understand it at all, but I fear that my chances of survival are very slim indeed.

Tristan Kaplan (6:51 A.M)
The dawn's light shines through the windows of the lobby, cutting through the faint fog left over from last night. I still remember watching it roll in from the hills, completely dominating the landscape within minutes of its arrival. Nothing could be seen through the fog that was as thick as a cloud but twice as dark.

It's a good thing we didn't go hunting.

"Gah...Mornin' already?" Nic lets out a smothered growl as he rolls over on the floor. Sunlight shines through the window straight down onto his wild brown hair.

"Yes," I tell him. "It's morning." I don't mention that I've been awake for most of the night, terrified that if I ever slept I'd wake up with cold steel buried in my throat. This "game" is making me more paranoid than I've ever been before. And I've always been paranoid.

He scratches his armpit, ignoring me as he glances around the lobby. "Where's everyone else?"

"We were smart enough not to sleep on the floor," Justine, closely followed by Felix, come walking into the room through the right hand corridor. She stops in the doorway and shakes her head. "You two did realize that we're in a resort hotel, right? With beds?"

A strange exhilaration of air escapes Nic's lips as he sits up. "Damn right I knew that! Do you think I'm some kind of moron or somethin'?" By the way he glares at the twins, I know that he didn't actually know.

"We were on guard. Making sure no one snuck in to kill us," I say. It's not a lie. I was convinced that one of my allies would try to slit my throat while I slept. Surprised they didn't.

Felix, whose bright green eyes are clouded with sleep and has hair frizzed out wildly, frowns. "Who could kill us? We're the top five."

"Doesn't mean they couldn't harm us," Nic grunts, getting to his feet and stretching. "They could hamstring us while we slept, or tied us up for later use..." His eyes travel across the Leonard's faces and I grimace. I just know that Nic has something nefarious in mind. I just hope it's for the others and not his allies.

Actually, scratch that. I only hope he doesn't harm me.

"What's for breakfast?"

We all turn as Chris comes walking into the room. His bow is slung around his shoulder, and sword holstered at his waist, but other then for his weapons, he looks just like a guy who got out of bed far too early.

"Pancakes," Felix says before any of us can speak. "And waffles. With syrup. And eggs, bacon, sausage galore."

Chris blinks twice. "Woah. Really? Mr. White gave us all that?"

"No, you doofus! I was just joking!" Felix throws his head back and laughs, but everyone else has the sense not to join in. Felix eventually notices the silence and looks around, bemused. "Wasn't it funny?"

Chris watches him quietly. No threat is issued. His face does not twitch. Only a silent promise. Sometimes it's hard to remember that we're all capable of murder. Encouraged to do so.

It's only now that Felix seems to grasp the severity of his slight against Chris. He ducks his head slowly, smile fading. I notice that his sister clutches her knife so tight that her knuckles turn white. If this turns to blows...

Chris laughs, immediately defusing the situation. "Good one. Good one." Though his tone is friendly, his eyes give away the anger radiating inside him.

"What's our plan?" Nic asks with an exaggerated yawn. He is already warming up his swing with the machete. "Find some losers, I hope." It kinda pisses me off how eager he is to kill people. What is wrong with him?

Chris nods. "Yes. It's almost seven o'clock. Then my datapad will show us where the others are. I will be keeping an eye out for Nero. He is a very imposing opponent..."

I shift my feet uncomfortably. Nero is a large threat to me. But not in the way they think. He was the only one to kill someone yesterday, which will surely boost his ranking. And if he jumps into the top five...What happens to me?

If I fall out of the top five, which is a very real possibility, then will my "allies" turn on me? According to Chris, this alliance is for the top five. What will they do to me if I'm no longer in that group? Kill me? With how Chris and Nic act, I wouldn't doubt it.

The clocks strike seven. Immediately Chris checks his datapad, eyes moving at a rapid pace as he tries to remember the location of every Challenger. The rest of us watch in anticipation. Nic spits. Justine and Felix talk quietly. Who're we going after?

"Huh." Chris looks up from his screen, a faint smile forming on his face. "Looks like someone is hiding in the visitor center."

"Visitor center?" I crane my head to look out the window, where I can just barely see the steep building.

"Someone is that close?" Felix asks with a frown.

Chris shrugs his muscular shoulders. "That's what it says. Never been wrong before."

Not that he'd know if it had been. But that doesn't matter. Someone is hiding in that building, and Chris wants us to go and murder them.

He leads us out into the crisp morning air. A faint fog still hangs overhead. Faint rays of sunlight shine through the gaps, lighting our path around the bubbling pool. "Be very quiet," Chris tells us as he sidles up to the center's doors. They're large square things made from solid oak and engraved with the same strange symbols on the tapestries in the lobby. "We don't want him escaping."

"Who is it?" Justine asks. She takes a place on the other side of the door, Felix hovering over her shoulder.

"Does it matter?" Chris snorts as he carefully loads his bow with a pointed arrow. I think of it slicing into soft flesh and wince. That would be painful. I make a mental note to avoid all projectiles. "Nic, open the door."

"Why me?" The grungy boy glares at Chris.

"Why not you?"

"Because I don't want to."

It's such a pointless, petulant argument, but I know why Nic does it. He's showing his independence, proving that he's not beholden to Chris in any way. It's stupid and reckless, but I have to admire the boy for his strength of will and defiance.

Until Chris rolls his eyes and nods at me, that is. "Tristan, open the door."

"Why do I have to do it?" I'm not about to be pushed around. I'm sick and tired of being treated like a doormat. I'm my own man!

Chris turns the bow and points it at me. "I'm not in the mood for this. Tristan, open the damn door NOW!"

I relent and go to open the door. Better to be subservient then dead, I reason. I place myself a short distance from the doors, ready to kick it open. "You guys ready?" I ask.

Nic rolls his eyes. "Yes. We've been ready for ages, you moron!"

I eye him coldly. "Remember that you were the one too frightened to open a door."

I kick it open. The large wooden frames swing open, revealing the room inside. It's a small auditorium, most of the open space dominated by a central stage. Two large staircases flabk this stage, leading to the higher floors. A few other rooms branch off to the side, but I don't see any person.

Chris steps inside, bow swinging around as he searches for a target. Felix and Justine flank him, their weapons at the ready. Nic shoves his way past me.

"Watch your back five," He hisses into my ear.

I watch him follow Chris with dread. Great. I just made a enemy out of my own ally. I'm playing this game just splendidly.

"Dude, where's the Challenger?" Felix steps onto the stage, looking around the large room cautiously. "I don't see anyone."

"Neither do I," Justine pauses just at the foot of the stage. "You sure someone was here?"

"You think I'm stupid?" Chris gives her a fierce glare. "Or maybe you think I'm blind?"

Justine blanches. "No. I didn't say that. Just...where are they?"

I follow them into the room, glancing around warily. Is this some kind of trap? Is Chris setting us up? I wouldn't put it past him to try and kill us all off for his own benefit. But then again, maybe I'm just being overly suspicious. My eyes drift to the second floor. "Maybe they hid up there?" I say aloud.

Chris follows my gaze. "Maybe," He admits. "We should go check--"

A door slams shut. We all whip around to see a boy entering from the kitchen. His black hair is plastered to his copper skin, and his face is a mask of anger and hate. "You will all die!" He screams at the top of his lungs, waving a hatchet over his head like a madman. "Allah Akbar!"

He breaks into a sprint, running straight for us as he screams maniacally.

Twang!

The boy screams as Chris' arrow slams into his shoulder. He stops in his tracks, flailing his good arm around wildly as he sinks to one knee. Chris slings his bow over his back and unsheathes his sword, stalking towards the boy with a vindictive sneer.

"Screw Allah!"

Chris plunges his sword through the boys chest. Blood gurgles from his mouth and streams from his nose as Chris rips the blade back out. The boy tips over sideways, landing with a dull thud.

"That's kill number one for me!" Chris crows triumphantly as all our datapads begin to ring at once. A quick glance shows me what I already knew. Ali Ajmal is dead.

As Chris heads back to us with a smirk, Justine nips forward and takes Ali's hatchet and backpack. "He won't be needing it," She says.

"What now?" I ask, trying to overlook the dead body lying in front of me. No one cares that he's dead. Not Chris. Not Nic. Not the Leonard's. Not Mr. White. Not even the world watching us cares.

So why should I?

"We continue hunting," Chris answers my question while wiping the blood on his sword off with a curtain. "And this time, our target is Nero Shock."

Imogen Sykes (11:48 A.M)
In the morning, I wake up inside a tent and think that I'm out camping with my family. A sigh of relief makes its way through my body, glad that my terrifying experience on that horrible island was only a dream.

Then I see Oreo, lying asleep beside me and I know it was no dream. Everything that happened was real. I'm stuck on an island, completely at the mercy of a deranged madman.

"You're awake," Oreo's eyes flicker open, and she sleepily turns to look at me, propping herself up on an elbow. "Good."

"Where's Fausto?" I remember that he didn't sleep inside the tent last night. It wasn't large enough to fit us all, and he said we deserved it more than he did. I'm not sure if that's true, but I was not going argue the point.

Oreo shrugs as she sits up. "I dunno. Outside somewhere?" She winces as she stretches. I feel bad for her. It couldn't have been easy, sleeping in that dress.

"Right." I glance at the flap that leads outside. I can see the faint shimmering of the sun reflecting off the sand outside. I'm debating whether I should go check on Fausto, but I find myself hesitant to leave this seemingly safe tent. "Did you sleep well?" I ask Oreo.

"No."

I wince. I didn't expect such a blunt answer, but it makes sense. Why would anyone have slept well?

"I kept having nightmares," She admits, pulling herself into a sitting position. "I...kept seeing her die."

Nora. She's talking about the girl we witnessed get murdered yesterday. We could have saved her. We might have, if only we had tried. But our fear crippled us. "It's not our fault," I say quietly. Am I trying to convince Oreo? Or myself? "There was nothing we could do."

Oreo shakes her head sadly. "I don't think that's true. If I hadn't held you back..."

"There was nothing we could do," I repeat more firmly this time. "Not without getting ourselves killed too." Nero would have gotten us. We couldn't have defeated him, even with our combined might. There was nothing we could do.

"Hey, girls!" Fausto's voice cuts through the tent, filled with a strange joy. "Come here!"

"C'mon," Oreo pushes past me, leaving the tent. I don't like the despairing look in her eyrs, but there's nothing more I can say. She'll have to convince herself that we did the right thing.

The beach is glittering with sunlight, water shimmering against the waves. The strange fog that had enveloped the island last night is gone and only warmth and light remain. Watching the crashing waves and pounding surf, I could believe that all our lives weren't in danger.

We find Fausto near a clump of rocks that border the cliffs where a lighthouse peers down on us. "Look what I found!" He twirls a long, silver item in his hands at a frightening pace. It looks like some sort of spear, but it has three tips instead of one. Looks familiar, but...

"What is it?" Oreo asks.

He wiggles his eyebrows at us, catching the item mid-twirl and slamming it into the sand between us. "It's a trident."

"What's a trident?" Oreo asks as a wave of memories flood over me.

"Oh!" I slap my forehead in realization. "It's the thing Poseidon and Neptune hold."

Fausto laughs as Oreo just looks perplexed. "Okay. But what does it do?"

"It's for fishing," Fausto says with a small smirk. He looks very familiar when he does that. "And with it, I can catch us some tasty fish." It's not just for fishing. Despite what Fausto tells us, I can tell from the sharpened tips that this is a weapon. One, that judging by Fausto's fluidity with it, can be used to cause maximum death and destruction in capable hands.

Oreo goes to say something else when our datapads begin to ring. My throat tightens in panic. Another Challenger has died! Someone else has been killed!

"Hellooo, Challengers!" Mr. White appears on screen, sitting in a white office chair, leaning back and rest his feet against something off-screen. He holds a white mug that wafts steam into the air. "Have a pleasant night? Or did you have terrible nightmares about death and the loss of everything you hold dear?"

I glance sideways at my friends. Fausto is glaring into his screen, prior anger with Mr. White not forgotten. Oreo merely look dejected; Mr. White's jab hits her hard.

Mr. White takes a long sip from his mug before continuing. "Well, regardless of whether you got any sleep--which Killian failed to, by the way--it is now noon. And you know what that means!"

"Rankings," Fausto mutters. Truthfully, I had forgotten all about those.

Mr. White grins. "That's right! Rankings!" He takes a gloved hand and swipes his left sleeve back, revealing a datapad identical to our own. "Let's see how you all fared!"

Carefully Mr. White begins to tap around on his own datapad, then a slow, methodical beeping emits from each of our own datapads. The screen switches over to the rankings tab, and immediately the places begin to change.

I breath out, unaware that I was even holding my breath. There I am! My name sits just outside the top ten, #11 Imogen Sykes.

"Yes!" Fausto pumps his fists into the air. "Number nine! Oh yeah!"

"I'm not last," Oreo's reaction is much more subdued. Her bright orange eyes look up from her datapad and blink at us. "I'm nineteenth."

"That's good!" I beam a smile at her, too excited about my own ranking to really be concerned with hers. I'm eleven! That's seven spots higher than my previous one! I'm dizzy with excitement. Only the top ten, the best of the best, are higher than I am.

"Why is Ali's face crossed out...?"

"Huh?" I glance at Oreo, whose staring intently at her screen. "What do you mean?"

"Ali, he's dead!"

Not believing her, I look at my own datpad, and sure enough, I find Ali's face at the very bottom. Ranked #23 and with a large red X marked over his face. That means one thing. He's dead.

"He must have been killed during the night," Fausto says quietly. "Or early in the morning. We were asleep, so we didn't hear the ringing."

There's a somber silence as we all stand on the beach, listening to the moaning wind around us. I didn't know Ali, but his death is still a shock to my senses. I saw what happened to Nora. It wasn't pretty. I don't think his death was any different.

Mr. White does not make a reappearance. Apparently he has said everything he needed to. Unsure on what to do next, Fausto lets us eat some food from his crate. It's not much, just some apples and a few handfuls of pretzels, but it's better than nothing.

"We need to restock our food supply," Fausto says when we finish. He stands, picking up his trident and twirling it around his head. He seems so natural with it, like it's just an extension of his body.

Oreo raises an eyebrow at him. "And how do you suppose we do that?"

He flashes her an irresistibly charming grin. "We fish, of course!"

"In the ocean?!" Oreo spins to face the calm blue waves, face a mask of horror. "How do you plan on not dying?"

"What's wrong with the ocean?" I ask. I have some experience fishing. Not in the ocean, but in lakes and rivers. I believe I could easily catch us more than enough fish, if I had the proper tools.

Oreo shrugs, gesturing helplessly at the sea. "It's just so...large. Large and unpredictable."

Fausto shakes his head with a patient smile. "Don't worry. I'm more than comfortable with this." Without waiting for a response, he wades out into the water. The waves wash gently across his legs as he marches forward calmly. I never noticed how strong he was before.

Eventually the water becomes too deep for him to stand, and he begins to paddle forward, head bobbing above the water. "He's going to drown!" Oreo whispers from beside me. I don't pay her a sideways glance, watching Fausto expertly make his way through the waves.

"He knows what he's doing," I tell her. When he's gone a fair distance away from the beach, he suddenly stands up. The water only reaches to his waist, at least when a wave wasn't sweeping by.

Oreo blinks, astonished. "What happened? The water had been above his head a minute ago!"

"Sandbar," I tell her patiently as Fausto suddenly goes very still, trident at the ready. He must be waiting for fish. "Wait here." I retreat back to the edge of the woods, ignoring Oreo's protest. I can't just sit here and wait for Fausto to provide for us. Not when I have skills I can put to use.

I find a particularly large and smooth stick near the shore, and quickly take it back to the rocks, where I pick up the sharpest one and begin to scrape it against a bigger rock, sharpening it further. "Go get me some vines, or moss, or something," I tell Oreo. She looks confused, but to her credit she does as I ask, returning a few minutes later with a thick vine.

"This is all I could find," She says.

"That's fine." The vine is thick and course, like a rope. Which is exactly what I need. A few minutes and a couple of knot tying mishaps later, I stand up with a presentable, if very rough, homemade spear. "How do I look?" I ask, posing heroically.

Oreo scratches her head. "Like a girl holding a stick tied to a rock."

I frown. That's not quite the image I was going for, but it's good enough. "I'm going to fish over by the rocks," I point towards the clump of slimy boulders beneath the lighthouse. They extend a certain distance into the ocean, and I know I'll find a few minnows swimming around them. "You go search the beach for some mussels or crabs."

"Eww." Oreo wrinkles her nose. "What do you want one of those for?"

I roll my eyes. "To eat? C'mon!"

"I don't want to eat those! Or even touch one!"

"Fine. Just...don't get hurt, okay?" I hurry away from the beach towards the rocks. A quick glance out to sea shows me that Fausto is still out there fishing. It's funny, but he looks very familiar. I don't know why, but he reminds me of someone I knew before. Actually, he looks almost identical to him.

I flinch at the memories. Some of them are good, but those were so long ago. Back when he was my friend. Before he turned. He was always so nice, but I soon learned that was all just an act.

I throw another glance out at Fausto as he skewers his trident into the water, weapon emerging with a wiggling fish on the end. Is he like that too? Is he only pretending to be our friend so he can turn on us later?

No...No, Fausto isn't like that. He's such a nice guy. There's no way he would ever betray us.

Feeling much better about myself, I clamber up the rocks and get ready to catch some fish.

Lucas Adin (12:35 P.M)
Through the glass windows at the top of the lighthouse, I observe three figures as they move about on the beach. One moves among the rocks at the base of my cliff, spearing tiny fish with a crudely made weapon. Another stands at least thirty yards into the house, walking along a shoal as he captures larger fish with a trident. The third walks along the beach, occasionally stopping to gaze out at the mysterious forest behind them.

"Future trouble," I grit my teeth together as I move away from the window. "That's what they'll be. Mark my words."

I'd approach them and ask for a truce, if I didn't have yesterday's incident fresh in mind. I tenderly touch the large purple bruise on my face, a mark left by Alana's fist.

The daft girl must have thought I was trying to attack her, or perhaps she just wanted me dead. Either way, she punched me in the face before I could even speak. A pity. I only wanted to ask her about the island, share information and corroborate what we knew. But did she stop to listen? No! She punched me into a freezing cold stream and ran away.

"Stupid girl," I drum a finger along the edge of the lighthouses control panel. I'm not quite certain on how it works yet, but another hour of tinkering and I will have it figured out.

That's about the only good thing that's happened on this island. After the incident at the stream, I didn't think things could get much worse. My clothes were soaking wet and had to be hung out to dry, leaving me in nothing but my underwear to sleep through the chilly night. I suppose I could have slept in my wet clothing, if I wanted to catch pneumonia, that is.

But that was not the end. In the morning, while collecting my clothes, I noticed the tent set up on the beach. It was too dark for me to spot it last night, but now I could see it clearly. I was hoping that it's inhabitants would pass on, but that doesn't seem to be the case. Those three are intent on staying.

That puts me in quite the pickle. I could up and move, leave the lighthouse and seek out another location. It would be dangerous to randomly move throughout the island, especially when I know so little about the island and the other Challengers. But is it more dangerous to stay here?

The beach is not that far from here. Yes, the trio would have to enter the forest and find the winding path that leads up the cliffs here, and while that is unlikely, it is in the realm of possibility.

"Decisions, decisions," I cup my chin, deep in thought. Viewers back home must be expecting a lot from me. I attend MIT, after all. Certainly none of the others can claim to possess the knowledge that I do. Yet they most assuredly have more survival knowledge tha I. Even my past in Turkey, which I try my hardest to forget, hasn't prepared me for this facet.

I stand, crossing back over to the window and observing the three once more. The guy out on the sandbar is swimming back now. The other two notice this and they all begin to gather at the center of the beach. I self-consciously rub the collar around my neck. I have a difficult decision to make.

And I just hope I make the right one.

Haviana Greyson (2:25 P.M)
The afternoon sun washes across the rough stones as I casually make my way down the gravel path, winding and twisting through the gullies and cliffs that surround me. I head south, away from the large mountain that rises in the north and into a surrounding valley with dwarf mountains and dramatic hills, scarred with gulches were mist clings.

I keep my sickle close as I examine the many rocks that surround the path. A few rise into the air like teeth, sharp and deadly. Others are as flat a kangaroos behind. None of them are very special.

It's been more than twenty-four hours since I woke up on this island. More than twenty-four hours since I last saw another person. Much too long. Reckon I'll be looking for someone today, whether to kill them or ally.

That's the name of the game. Kill or be killed. Ain't nothing special to it. I've been living that way for awhile. Back home, I can't count on two hands the amount of times animals have tried to kill me. It's not that different here. Only its that it's humans who want me dead. They better try hard though. I have no plans to kick the bucket.

The path I've been following ends in an aburpt drop-off. I peer over the edge at the jagged rocks at the bottom of the long drop. It'd be bloody stupid to try and worm my way down there. Better turn around.

I spin on the spot and head back down the path. I only get a few paces before there's a clattering noise and I turn to see a pair of small pebbles rolling down a cliff a little ways over my head.

I hold my sickle out to my side, wondering if they were just knocked down by the wind. It's possible, though unlikely. I cautiously look backwards, wondering if someone is setting a trap. If they are, then the tables are about to change. I'm now setting a trap for them.

I climb slowly, keeping one hand on my sickle. It's a question mark of a sword, sharpened and and shaped like a crescent moon. One well-timed slash and even the toughest of foes would go down, despite it's original use designed for harvest.

A lone scraggly tree grows atop the thin plateau I reach. It's leaves are dead, branches thin and ashen colored. I'm oogling this sight when I hear a low gasp and turn to see her.

She's as pale as a ghost with midnight black hair that falls past her face, cascading at her shoulders. Black lines ring a pair eyes the same luster and color of emeralds. These stare at me in silent shock.

"G'day, Mate!" I lower my sickle, offering the terrified girl a comforting smile. I don't like smiling at strangers, but I must show her that I mean no harm.

"Wh-who're you?" She presses her back up against the rocky cliff, eyes looking all around for an escape route.

"Name's Haviana Greyson," I offer a handshake.

The girl stares at it like it's some kind of explosive. "H-haviana? The girl ranked #12?"

"The very same." I eye the girl's petite frame, noticing how little muscle she has, how thin and bony she is. "You really need to eat, mate."

"Why do you speak so funny? And why haven't you killed me?"

I frown. That's not what I expected her reaction to me. Maybe she has some kangaroos loose in the top paddock. "Don't tell me you ain't ever heard of us Aussies?"

"Aussies?" The girl glances sideways, still searching for an escape. "You're from Austria?"

"Not Austria. Australia." Yep. Definitely got a few kangaroos loose.

"Oh..." The girl moves ever so slightly towards the left, heading for the cliff. What's her plan? Jump to her death?

"Your plan is bloody obvious, ya know?" I'm tired of this little game. I'm not going to hurt her, so she doesn't need to try and run. But when I tell her this, she just blinks in surprise.

"Why not? Are you stupid?" Despite the rather offensive statement, she stops edging towards the cliff. Rather, she turns those big emerald eyes up to me.

"Ya really shouldn't insult the girl with the sickle," I say, waving the weapon in a half-moon pattern. I rather enjoy the fear that shows in the girls face. "Lucky for you, I'm a forgiving gal."

Now this stops the girl in her tracks. She tilts her head to one side. "Is there a reason you don't want me dead?"

"Would you rather I kill you?" Boy, this girl sure likes to look a gift horse in the mouth. I like to think that if someone told me that they'd spare my life, I wouldn't keep on questioning that decision. But this girl is obviously different.

She turns her head down and stares at her shoes in silence. She doesn't answer my question.

"Don't tell me you want to cark it!"

"I...no." The girl fidgets in place, looking up at the gray sky. "But does it matter? We're all going to die in these games. Who cares when or how?"

I actually don't know what to say. This girl has some serious baggage. But I'm not about to kill her, or just leave her. So I only have one option. "I care, that's who. And so should you!"

The girl shrugs. "I guess."

Well, then....Good enough for me. "What's your name, mate?"

The girl starts in surprise. "Don't you know? It's on our datapads..."

"I don't trust those things." Mr. White could put our names as anything he likes. Though he hasn't been wrong yet...

"K-killian. My name is Killian."

"Right. You wanna tag along with me, Killian?"

Maybe aligning with this obviously damaged girl is a bad idea, but why not? Having anyone on my side is better than having no one on my side. Heaps better. "Okay." Killian nods slowly, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. "I'll join you."

"Ace!"

And that's the start of our partnership. We have a quick comparison of items, which doesn't take long. All I have is my sickle, an awl, and a bit of rope. All which I found yesterday. Killian has a hunk of bread, a pack of crackers, and--most fortunately--a canteen.

"Thanks, mate," I say when Killian let's me have a swig. "My throat was as dry as a dead dingo's donger."

She gives me an odd look. I shrug. "Let's get moving."

We head back down the cliffs, taking extra effort not to fall. When we reach the bottom, I lead the way down a path that seems to go downwards. I tell Killian about my life as we go, hoping it will open the girl up a bit. I tell her about my parents, my six siblings, and the drought that was plaguing my family before I was kidnapped. "I'm as worried for them as they are for me," I tell Killian.

Her only response is to nod.

Further down the path we go. Time passes by, the sun beating down on our heads. We're halfway to what looks like a giant tower-like shape, when a large figure looms out of the mist. He's tall and thin, large arms clutching what looks to be a hefty club.

"What do we do?!" Killian cowers behind me, voicing quivering with fear. I stand calmly as the figure steps closer. When he sees that I am making no move to run, he frowns.

"You want to fight me?" His voice is higher than I thought it would be.

I smile playfully. "It wouldn't really be a fight, mate."

Uncertainty flickers in his brown eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Haven't you checked the Rankings? You're lower then I am."

"No!" The boy shakes his head. "I'm fourteen and you're fifteen."

I nearly laugh. He just stated yesterdays rankings. "You know that the Rankings change, right?"

Now there's genuine curiosity in the boy's eyes as he lifts his left arm and checks the rankings for himself. His eyes stretch wide in surprise when he sees that I am correct. "No way! Why'd I fall?"

He's open to attack. All I'd need to do is lash out with my sickle, slice his belly open. He'd fall to his knees, trying to keep his intestines from falling out and giving me the ample opportunity to slash his neck and end him. But...He'd be much more useful as an ally. He's big, powerful, and--let's be honest--pretty stuid. How would I ever find a more useful tool?

"Dumb viewers!" The boy is stomping his feet and muttering indignantly. He seems to have forgotten about Killian and I. "Dumb Mr. White."

"Jotaro," I speak the boy's name, hoping that the datapad is right. When he looks up, I know that it is. "How about you join with us?"

His eyes narrow suspiciously. "Why?"

I shrug. "You're strong." It's the truth. Better not lie, because he may not be very smart, but I think he seems very perceptive. The two aren't mutually exclusive as people think.

"Huh. You're right about that." He looks over my shoulder at Killian. "What is she good at?"

"Oh...loads of stuff." I haven't the faintest idea.

Jotaro shrugs his peaked shoulders. "Sure, why not? Nothing better to do."

And that's how I get my second ally. Few words are passed between us. Neither Killian nor Jotaro are the talkative type. Not that it matters. As long as they have skills they have a use.

Setting off across the rugged hillsides, we aim for the broken tower in the mist-shrouded highlands. Vapor clings to our hair, dripping off like pearls. We reach the shadow within the hour. It is a cavernous, barren tower that leans over a ravine like a drunken wizard. Lichen covers the thick gray stone. Mist wraps it's parapets and we make our first meal of the birds in the eaves of the single tower. Some escape and I hear their wings in the air as my newfound alliance gathers it's strength.

Anne Bellhope (3:15 P.M)
The gray clouds that have covered the sky for majority of the day has finally begun to dissipate as I edge along the backyard fence of one the houses. It's good and bad. Good, because I finally get to see some sunlight. Bad because more light makes it harder to sneak around.

I look up at the nearby house. It's wooden exterior has been painted blue, but the color has begun to fade with age. Some of the beams are cracked and misshapen, and the backdoor seems to barely stay up.

This house is different than the rest. That makes it interesting.

I cautiously approach the door, wondering if anyone else has had the same thought that I had. Certainly this building had been made different for a reason. The others are all sprightly and new, without the faintest hint of wear and tear. So why is this one different? There's only one logical reason: it holds something important.

Right beside the door I stop before entering. I slip the orange backpack over my shoulders, taking a quick inventory. I have plenty of food, for now. Several rolls of bread and some jerky should last me a few more days, if I can ration. It's a weird thought. I never really thought of something like that before. Rationing food isn't something I ever had to do, other then a brief time I was on the streets.

Other then my food, I have a blanket and some sort of paint. I also have a flashlight, which I used last night, and a coil of rope. Some would say that I was lucky for finding this backpack full of stuff so early into the my time on the island, but I know better. It wasn't luck. It was effort.

I put effort into combing the house I woke up in for supplies, and I found some. A little effort and anything you want can be done.

Monzaroc's death.

That's something I want. Either that or I want him brought to justice. But what are the odds of that happening? I'm trapped on this island. He's not. I have to fight my way through twenty other teenagers. He gets to watch me try. I'm stuck in a madmans clutches. Monzaroc must be happy, because it's just like when I was trapped in his.

I grip my knives so hard, my hands begin to hurt. Monzaroc will pay. He killed my best friend. He ruined my life. I will make him pay.

But first I have to kill some other people.

I have a few reservations about harming the other Challengers, I think as I slowly swing the door open and find myself in a kitchen. But it's a necessary evil. I want to live, and if for that to happen, others have to die.

So be it.

I check all the pantries, but they're empty. All they hold is some dishes, cups, and a bowl. I take one of these cups and fill it with water from the sink, drinking gratefully. Lack of water is one reason I've yet to move on from this neighbourhood. Here, I know where to find some. Out in the forest...not so much.

None of the other first floor rooms hold much. A stack of board games in the closet, a vase full of dead flowers in the dumbwaiter, and a strange card stuck in the crack between floorboards. I wiggle it out and frown. It seems to depict a chariot of sorts being pulled by two horses, one white and one black. It's interesting and all, but so very useless. I toss it over my shoulder and head up the stairs, each creaking under my footsteps.

I'll take a break after I check this floor, I decide. I've spent all day searching for Challengers and supplies, and I'm tired. A quick rest would be good.

I wander down the upstairs hallway and frown when I come to a room different then the others. The door is shut. All the others in the house have been open, so why isn't this one?

Uncertainty flickers in my chest. Something is off. Holding one of my knives up at the ready, I slowly turned the knob and stepped inside.

A girl spins to face me. I recognize her by the choppy black and red hair. Clarice Barron #8. One spot below me. Clarice's olive eyes shoot down to observe the shovel at her feet, hands twitching towards it.

I throw my knife.

It zips forward, slashing through the air and burying itself in Clarice's left arm. I missed. I was aiming to kill and I missed! But the scariest part is that Clarice doesn't even scream or shout with pain. She just comes barrelling forward, silent and deadly.

My hands fumble into my shirt pockets for my other two knives, but there's no time. Clarice is quickly and effortlessly closing the gap between us. I whip my hands up to meet the onslaught.

Then we're both on the ground, shrieking and writhing. Her hands grab at my throat. Mine grab the knife still buried in her arm and rip it out. She finally howls in pain as blood rushes from the wound, covering the floor where we battle.

I raise the knife, stabbing at my adversary. But Clarice is quick. With her one good arm, she slaps the knife away and sends it skittering across the floor and out of reach. I watch it slip away in despair when Clarice bunches her legs underneath her and kicks me in the gut.

Air escapes my lips as I fall back. Clarice scampers over me, heading for the knife. I can't let her have it. I grab her ankle just as she reaches for it. The skinny girl wasn't expecting her momentum to be pulled away like that and falls to the hardwood floor. Advantage regained, I heave myself up and onto the smaller girl.

She may be tough, but with her injured arm she's not strong enough to throw me off. I fix my hands around the girl's scrawny throat--just above the collar--and squeeze tightly.

The girl doesn't give in. She shrieks and squirms, nails gouging and clawing at my skin, knee slamming into my stomach. Blood trickles down my forearms, but I force myself to shut down the pain. I can't let go. She'll grab that knife and kill me if I do. So I hang on. Despite the raging pain in my arms. The throbbing of my chest. I hold fast to the girl's throat and wish that she would just die already...

Clarice goes still.

I sigh and close my eyes, grip loosening. I...that was...A shudder runs through my body. I never thought that killing someone would be so...brutal. So visceral. But why didn't I? Did I expect the girl to just die easily?

I blink my eyes open, staring at the girls face. She lies in a pool of blood, hers and my own. My clothes are stained with it. My arms drip the fluids. She put up a good fight, I give her that. She was no--

Clarice's head jerks around, teeth digging into my wrist as she bites down.

I scream at the sudden and intense pain, hands involuntarily flying up and releasing Clarice. She acts on this new freedom, darting forward and jabbing her fingers at my eyes.

I fall back onto the blood-stained floor, howling and screaming. Everything is blurry. My eyes throb. My vision fluctuates. Clarice rises from the ground, scoops up the knife, and rushes for the open window. With one last scream I grab at the girls ankles. I'm too slow.

The girl disappears out the window, taking my knife with her. Eyes still throbbing, arms aching with pain, I hobble across the blood-slick floor and stare out the window. Clarice has crashed to the ground, barely avoiding skewering herself on a fence. She climbs to her feet, slowly limping away. I'd throw another knife, but I'd miss. I can barely see straight.

Clarice gets away.

I let out a low moan and slide to the ground. The Rankings don't make you invincible. Clarice has done a lot of damage, despite being lower ranked. Blood slides down my arm, pooling in my hands. Everything is still blurry, just now beginning to fix itself. My arm is numb. I don't feel the pain.

"Damn girl..." I rest my head against the wall, shivering when the cold metal of my collar touches my skin. Wait...

Why didn't I pull the tab on the back of her collar? Set off her bomb? I could have let her escape, and then...Boom! Why didn't I think of that? I'm stupid. Opening my eyes, I force myself up. I need help. Bandages or something. I hobble out the door, praying that I don't run into anyone else as I seek the help I need.

Clarice Barron (4:28 P.M)
Damn that girl.

Damn my carelessness.

Damn Mr. White.

Damn that girl.

Damn everything.

I gasp with effort as I stumble down the streets, far from the house where I fought Anne. I had sprained my ankle with that daring leap, but things could be worse. I didn't break my ankle, and I managed to escape with both my life and a new knife.

I clutch this hard-won prize close to my chest. My left arm hangs limply at my side, courtesy of the knife I hold with my right. Anne was an expert with that throw, but if she had been only a smidgen better...I'd be dead.

I could be dead now, if I don't find cover. I'm weak and exposed. The other Challengers will see me as easy prey, and while I'd fight my hardest and certainly leave a few scars for them to remember me by, I very much doubt I'd get out of any battle alive.

So staying out of sight is a must.

I turn off the street, limping towards the nearest house. It's big and blue, with a steeped wooden roof and wide crystalline windows. It looks fancier then the last one I hid in. Hopefully that means I won't be discovered like that last time.

Climbing the stairs to the house, I try to keep as much weight off my foot as possible. Every step is agony, but I force myself on. I refuse to die here. I've faced worse then this.

The sky-blue door swings inwards, allowing me to shamble into the high-ceiling foyer. The overwhelming scent of oakwood touches my nose the moment I step inside. There's a grand staircase to the right, but I walk past this, heading through a low-arched door and stumbling into a kitchen.

I limp over to the table and slip, only catching the tables end keeps me upright. "Damn...Anne..." I pant, lying my head down against the striped tablecloth. If only I had noticed her sneaking into the house...then I could have set a trap and detained her. Not killed, no. Mr. White's stupid rule prevents me from killing her. But I could have trapped her, wounded her. I grab at my arm and wince. She is a tough opponent. I'll need to take her out eventually to win.

Several minutes pass. I find a dry cloth in a drawer and wet it with the sink, carefully cleaning my wounded arm. The cut is deep. I need help. An infection would be the very last thing I need. It could kill me quicker then another knife. I need medicine.

I ransack the house. Check the cupboards and drawers. The fridge. Wardrobes in the bedrooms. The house is large, holding many rooms. I go through them all, limping and muttering when I find things of little value. It's not until I check behind the mirror in the upstairs bathroom do I find what I seek.

Bottles of pills, rolls of bandages, and jars of ointment. Stacks of them. I laugh lightly and grab the closest one, seeing that it is anti-infection. I screw the cap open and stare at the clear liquid inside, a heavy anti-septic smell stings my nostrils. This is going to hurt.

I brace my wounded arm on the table and grit my teeth together as, with my one good arm, I pour the liquid onto it. I twitch from the sudden pain, like a dozen bee's stinging at once, and accidentally splash some of the precious medicine on the floor. I scoop the bottle back up and set it on the counter, grabbing a bandage roll and separating it with my teeth. Then I wrap the cottony roll around my forearm and relax.

It's dealt with. For now. I am certain I will have to change the dressing and reapply the medicine later, but for now I'm good to go. I breath a sigh of relief, resting on the cold tiles and lying my head against the edge of the tub.

There's a thudding pounding in my head. Like an alarm. It makes it hard to think. I concentrate on thoughts of killing Mr. White. It makes me feel better.

I am not sure how long I lay here, thinking of the various ways Mr. White could die. But eventually another thought pops into my head. I need a way to carry the medicine.

I climb to my feet and then collapse, completely forgetting about my ankle. I shriek a loud curse as my injured arm slams into the hard floor, sending a spasm of intense pain shuddering down my body.

I roll over with a groan, my good hand bracing against the sink as I pick myself back up, taking extra care not to put too much weight onto my ankle. Then I limp out of the room, resuming my search.

I don't find much. Just a few pieces of fruit, a hammer, and a belt that I fit around my waist. It has holsters that I place both my knife and hammer into. No way I'll be without a weapon.

In the largest bedroom, I find a small duffel bag lying on the bed. It's empty except for a few wads of cash tied together with a rubber band. I toss these aside. What use do I have for money here?

I fill the bag with the fruit--With a curse I remember that I left all my previous supplies in the room where Anne attacked me--and hobble back to the bathroom. There I dump all the medicine into my bag. Everything. Even the stuff I don't need, like sleep pills and eye drops. Someone else may take them if I don't, and that's not going to happen.

With the bag filled and the house empty, I head back down the staircase, sliding on my butt. My ankle isn't good enough to take it. When I'm on the bottom floor, I limp out the back door. The sky has changed since I was last out, it is now a deep orange color. The forest in the distance sways with the wind, but I don't head there. It's too risky. Instead, I hobble towards a shed, hoping that it will be a place where no one finds me.

Justine Leonard (5:47 P.M)
Chris calls for a break just as we arrive at a hill overlooking the forest. Felix grunts with satisfaction, flopping down onto the soft grass. "Thank you! My feet are killing me!"

I sit down next to him. Felix was missing from my life for several long years. I never want to part with him again...Though Mr. White's dangerous promise of their only being one survivor constantly rings in my ears. If he's right...No. Better not to think of it I should just be glad my brother is back, and not yet dead.

"Where is this Nero kid, huh?" Nic asks, spitting on the grass. He's been in a terrible mood all day. I think it's because Chris killed Ali, effectively ensuring he remains #1 for another day. Also, I doubt that wandering the island for several hours has done anything to improve his ood.

Chris scowls. "The map said he should be in the forest around here."

I look out into the glen before us, sequestered between two cliffs. According to my map, we're on the far end of the forest, very close to the cliffs that make up most of the northern point of the island. The lodge is only a click away to the west. Basically, we've gone in a gigantic circle.

"You've said that before!" Nic fixes Chris with savage glare. "Many, many times before."

It's obvious he holds no sympathy or respect for the tall boy. Neither do I, for that matter. I did not like the way he watched Felix after that joke about breakfast. It looked like he was about to kill him. And higher rank or not, I'd have slayed him where he stood if he ever attempted to harm my brother.

"And I was right all those times! That's what the map said!" Chris snarls at us and turns to gaze upon the glen with a harried look, obsessively plucking at his bowstring. That's another problem I have with Chris. He's too eager to catch Nero. We could have caught and killed dozens of the other Challengers by now if he didn't insist that we hunt Nero and Nero alone.

"He's nuts," Felix whispers to me. So I'm not the only one to notice.

I nod. "He's going to explode if we don't find Nero soon. Possibly kill Nic, if he keeps egging him on."

"Dude should be more like Tristan. He knows what's up."

I glance at the fifth member of our alliance as he flits silently on the edge of the hill. He looks like a flighty deer. Talks as much as one too. Ever since the new rankings came out, he hasn't said a word. Not that he ever really said much before that, either. He really only ever glared at everything and snorted. But now it seems like he's about to desert at any moment.

"I don't trust him," I say simply.

Felix shrugs. "So you really think he's not worried that Chris will kill him? Remember, this alliance was originally only for the top five."

"I don't think that's the case anymore. Otherwise we'd be chasing Nero to recruit him, not kill him."

My twin only shrugs again. "For now. But if Nero died, Tristan would be top five again, yeah?"

"I suppose."

"I'm figuring that's what Chris is thinking."

We lapse into silence. I eat a little of a leftover candy bar, watching my "allies" with a careful gaze. When I said I didn't trust Tristan, I was putting it mildly. I wouldn't let him--or anyone else for that matter--tie my shoes. They're all just in it for themselves and want to take the easy path to victory. That's the only reason any of us joined up with Chris.

"Everyone get up! Break time is over!" Chris calls us all together and we head off down the hill, into the glen. Trees quickly pop up around us, towering over the ground like castles of wood. At their bases, scurrying squirrels searched for food under bristles of wispy moss. My mind instantly let me know that these animals could provide us with food, if our current supply ever ran out.

We group into a tight cluster as the path we take through the trees becomes more narrow. Everyone is uneasy. Chris plays with his bowstring, eyes constantly flitting among the trees. Nic keeps touching the handle of his machete, as if reminding himself that it is still there. I unconsciously grip Felix's shoulder.

"It's okay," He pats my hand and gives a wide smile. "We're not going to be ambushed."

Somehow he's always known what I've been thinking. Despite what he says, I do think that this could be a trap. It would be the perfect spot to ambush us, when we're emerging from this narrow path. We're stuck in a single file line, and wouldn't have the chance to fight back. If Nero knows we're hunting him...

Snap!

I jump in shock, slamming forward into Felix and nearly tripping Tristan who walks behind me. Chris and Nic wheel around in alarm, weapons drawn, only to relax when we see a hare scampering away into nut-brown forest, leaving behind a snapped twig.

"Stupid animal..." Nic shakes his head and mutters a swear.

We continue on.

Slowly the forest begins to widen. The trees become smaller and spaced further apart. More sunlight leaks through their open branches. I'm beginning to think that this isn't a trap.

Then we're out. We arrive at a wide glade, where the trees fall away, revealing the bespeckled sky. The sugary sweet scent of flowers waft around us as we step into the beautiful place, and then we see him. Dressed entirely in black and laughing wildly as he plays with butterflies that pirouetted in the air.

Nero Shock.

Twang!

Chris' arrow misses his head by an inch. Nero spins to face us, wide blue eyes drawn back in shock. There's a long moment when no one moves, everyone too stunned by the others appearance to react.

Then Nic charges forward and Nero turns to run.

Two more arrows, each one just barely missing Nero. They're skewers of death, needles of despair. It only takes one well-placed shot and Nero is a goner. The boy seems to know this, as he begins to weave in and out, running in a crossword pattern. Still, Nic gains on him.

"We have him," Felix says emotionlessly. He doesn't care what happens to the boy. Neither do I. He has to die eventually, and as long as I'm not the one who does it...So what?

"I don't think so," Tristan stops at our shoulders, pointing at Nero who has just reached the opposite edge of the glade. The small boy flings himself at a skyscraper of a tree, scratching and clawing at its bark as he desperately pulls himself up.

"Come ON!" Chris howls back at us and then fires another arrow. This one slams into the bark next to Nero's hand, nearly skewering him to the tree. But it misses. And so Nero climbs higher and higher, until he disappears into the leafy boroughs that span out from the ancient branches.

"Damn that bastard!" Nic stops at the base and stabs his machete into the trunk. The rest of us, following Chris, stop beside him. We all gaze up the length of the might tree, completely unable to see Nero through the thick canopy.

"What now?" Felix asks.

Chris looks like he wants to punch him. "What now? What now?! What NOW!?" His face turns beet-red, eyes bulging in his sockets. I reach for the knife in my pocket when Chris sighs and runs a hand through his perfect blonde hair. "I need to calm down..."

"The hell you do..." Tristan mutters. I don't think Chris hears him.

I look around the tree, noticing that no others grow nearby. Only a rocky cliff wall, one that is several dozen feet taller then the tree, stands close. "Can anyone climb?" Nic seethes. He looks even angrier than Chris.

Tristan shakes his head. So do Felix and I. I'm lying, of course. I'm an excellent climber, perfectly capable of scaling that tree to the very top. But then what would I do? I'm ranked lower then Nero and can't hurt him. Climbing would get me nowhere.

Chris mutters something unintelligible and stalks away to collect his arrows. Nic grinds his teeth together furiously, circling around the tree like he expects Nero to fall out at any moment. Tristan gives a haughty sniff. "If they wanted him so bad they should have had better aim..."

"Or been faster," Felix adds with a playful grin. I pinch his arm.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"Do you want them to kill you?" I'm perfectly aware of the fact that rage makes people act unstable. And an unstable Chris or Nic is bad news.

Felix only rubs his arm, giving me a rueful glare. "You didn't need to pinch me," He finally mutters. I roll my eyes.

"We're staying here!"

"Huh?"

Chris is back, his quiver refilled with his missing arrows. His blue eyes are narrowed as they watch the treetops. "You heard me. We're staying here until he comes down."

"But...why?" Felix doesn't understand. Neither do I. Why waste more time with this kid? We have a free tracking device that would let us find anyone...Why aren't we using it?

"Because I said so." Chris plants his feet like that's the only justification needed. And maybe it is...as long as he's number one.

"There's nowhere for him to go," Nic licks his lips as he rejoins us. He looks hawkish as he gazes up at the tree. "No other tree to jump to. Nothing. He's stuck."

Well, I can't refute that point. There really is nowhere for him to go. Unless he were crazy enough to try and leap onto the cliff, that is. And without a refute, I can only go along with what my "superiors" say.

Even if I think it's stupid.

Bree Richmond (6:42 P.M)
The enchanted forest beckoned me into its pulsing heart. How could I resist such a lush Garden of Eden? The deep, haunting ballad of its ancient song called out to me. As old as Adam, the forest was still steeped in plushness and opulence.

With a light heart, I plunged into the over-arching vault of leaf and limb. It was not what I had expected. The exquisiteness of the dawn’s light had not yet lanced to the lush, green sward. Because of this, hoods of black shadow hung in the groves.

Coils of vaporous mist enwrapped the shaggy heads of the oak trees. They writhed around them like a conjuror’s milky smoke, sensuous and illusory. Sieves of mist caressed the lichen-encrusted bark. Adding its phantasmal gas to the damp breath of the forest, it glided with deadly intent. It deadened sound, haunted glades and poured into empty spaces.

A sepulchral silence overhung the hallowed ground where the trees dared not grow. Nothing stirred, nothing shone, nothing sang. A hollow echoing, like the hushed tones of a great, slabbed cathedral, entombed the wood.

Then a finger of supernal light poked through the misty mesh. It was followed by a whole loom of light, filtering down in seams of gold. Like the luminal glow of the gods, it chased the shadows, banished the gloom and spilled into spaces where the mist once stalked. The fluty piping of a songbird split the silence just as the forest became flooded with light. A fusillade of trilling and warbling detonated all around me as the primordial forest came alive with the troubadours of the trees. I darted between shafts of lustrous-gold light as I went, admiring the butterflies. They pirouetted in the air, their wings a-whirr like little ripples of silk.

The glory of the forest was revealed in the birthstone-bright light. Almond-brown trees stood serenely, awash with a tender glow. Their bark looked like riffled toast and gems of amber clasped their crusty exterior. The first blush of the morn gave the leafy bower a green-going-to-gold complexion.

Idling past suede-soft flowers, I caressed them softly, getting tingles in my fingers. My ears perked up at the metallic, tinkling sound of a stream. It flashed with a tinsel tint through the lace of leaves. When the trees parted, I could see it was sliding into an infinity-pool. The pool looked like a polished mirror of silver, with skeins of swirl-white twisting slowly on the surface. A shiny spillway led to a choppier pond. Boulders colonized the edges of the pond, buffed with pillows of moss. They caused a rocky gurgling as water met stone; a swish, a clunk, a swell and a clop. Sweet fragrances, alluvial and palliative, seemed to flit in and out of my awareness. Sight and smell vied for attention in this soul-enriching dream world.

I put my back against a knobbly boulder, leaning my head against the mossy pillow. I closed my eyes, let my stream of consciousness take hold, and drifted into infinity....

"Bree! Hey, Bree!"

A sharp tone grates against my eardrums. A high-pitched, excited tone that drawls against my head. I shift my body, curl my legs against my chest. I do not want to listen. I only wish to sleep. That forest...

"Bree! How long are you going to sleep?"

My eyes flit open.

His freckled face is only mere inches from my own. A wide, toothy grin crosses his mouth as a reflective light dances in his liquid brown eyes. Sami.

"Oh...Hello..." I push myself away, scooting across the downy-soft grass. Flitting images of my dream remain intact inside my thoughts, but they're slipping away with every passing moment. If only I could have stayed there...The current forest I find myself in is nothing like the splendourful paradise of my dreams. It is drab, dreary, and--worst of all--dreadfully real.

"You had a long nap," Sami comments cheerfully. He's chewing something, though I am unsure as to what. "I hope you had a pleasant dream."

If only he knew.

I press my hand against the ground, shifting myself into a sitting position. I can hear rushing water, a sure sign that we're still near the river. Orange light filters through gaps in the trees, telling me that it is dusk. My datapad shows me that no one else has perished.

"What's happened?" I ask Sami quietly. "And what are you eating?"

"Nothing's happened," He replies in the same cheery tone. "At least, nothing I've seen. Oh! And I'm eating nuts!" He holds out a handful of dusky brown nuts. "Want one?"

I shake my head politely. "No, thank you."

He shrugs and pops a few more in his mouth. "If you say so."

I sit in silence, watching him drift along the side of the river, occasionally checking the ground for more nuts. Sami is a nice boy, but he's not...not quite the ally I was hoping for. Yes, any ally is appreciated but...

I sigh. My dream is not to be. It never is, nor it ever will be.

I roll the flashlight between my hands. It's a large, industrial thing. It's beam is bright and inten$, capable of shining through the darkest of nights. Holding it close to me makes me feel safe. But I know that it will not be for long. The creatures of the night stalk the forest at Mr. White's behest. They will find Sami and I, and they will kill us. My dream will shatter. 'Tis not to be. I once had a dream I'd be free from both here and any restrictions.

But that was just what it was: a dream. I was not a girl beloved, nor a girl with a family who'd hold her close. I was not a princess, fair and secure. I was not a fairy, wanted and brave. I was just a girl, stuck in a world of a thousand dreams.

Once upon a dream, I dreamed of having a family. That was never to be true.

Once upon a dream, I dreamed of finally being brave. That was never to be true.

I was a weak, unloved girl, used in every meaning of the word. That, my friend, was true.

Johanna Cisse (8:28 P.M)
Throughout my second day on the island, I explored the area surrounding my waterfall, filling out the map on my datapad. The tannin-brown forest held little surprises. The floor is carpeted with leaves, the occasional nut scattered around and the rare wildcat slinking through the bushes. I actually saw two of those, more then I had expected.

I also had encountered the row of houses again. I went inside one, nabbed a bag of apples, a pair of energy bars, a handful of mini-chocolate bars, and took a few drinks from the sink. But I dared not venture further into the neighbourhood. Those houses are merely traps for frightened kids. And I prefer to set the traps; not get caught in them.

And setting traps is just what I'm doing now. It's dark, a deep indigo sky masking the horizon, the first few wisps of fog setting in. I'm back near my waterfall cave, on the east side of the river. I've already trapped the west side, placing a foot-snare that would yank anyone who activates it into the air and suspend them by their legs. Now I work on the east.

There's two reasons why setting traps in this location is beneficial. One; protecting my cave is a must. Two; people are guaranteed to try and attempt to drink from the river. And I've placed my traps on the clearest path to the water's edge. When I finish, both sides will be deadly. With my snare already complete, I work on a deadfall.

The simplest of deadfalls consisted of only a few sticks and a rock. Usually, they're small and are used to catch small mammals. A trap would be set, fixed with bait beside the trigger, and when the animal went to eat the bait, the stick would be moved and set off the trap, which would drop a rock upon the animal, killing it.

That's exactly what I mean to do now, only on a larger scale. Since I am in a forest, it is not at all difficult to find a few long, sturdy branches and a big enough rock. I find one rock, roughly the size of my head, beside the river. Then I lug it back towards my trap. Setting it up becomes quite tedious. I'm not exactly muscular, and lugging it up the tree with me is difficult. But somehow I manage. I get it up to the height I want, fitting it snugly between two long limbs. I use the longest of the sticks--the trigger--to prop it up. When I finish, I slide back down the tree and examine my work.

It's not perfect, much to my chagrin, and I don't have any bait that would work on a human, but it will do. Anyone wandering down this path is likely to set off the trigger, and then...

I grin, imagining the rock taking out the hapless Challenger. "They'll never see it coming!"

I was initially worried about accidentally catching someone ranked higher then I. It would be utterly horrendous to kill someone only to discover that it would cause my head to explode.

But I do not have to worry about that. I read the rules tab on my datapad--which I'm sure most of the idiotic Challengers ignored--and it stated that killing Challengers ranked higher then you through indirect methods, such as poison, traps, and giving an infectious wound, are perfectly acceptable. Thus, my trap is allowed to kill anyone on this island.

Perfect.

I leave my trap, heading back for the river and passing over the bubbling water via stepping stones. My rank does not reflect my position in these games. I know what I am doing. No one else does. I have a finely tuned strategy. Everyone else does whatever the hell they want. Who will win? I think that answer should be fairly obvious.

Crickets chirp and birds squawk as I enter the forest on the other side of the river. I stick low to the undergrowth, keeping an ear to the sky and an eye on the ground. I can hear a very faint sound. It's almost like...swaying.

My trap! Someone must have set off my trap!

I stick close to the ground and remain silent, but I pick up my pace. Soon I emerge onto the path where my snare was set, and I see that my trap did indeed catch someone.

Victoria hangs from her feet, gently swaying across the path. Her head is a full foot off the ground, but her long chocolate brown hair cascades past her head and tickles against the dirt. She looks utterly ridiculous.

"Going somewhere?" I ask with a smirk, stepping into her sight. Her stormy eyes turn to face me and she mumbles something unintelligible. I eye the fallen bottles beside her head and notice her reddened face. Intoxicated, I take it.

"Yous...gonna...let me down?" Victoria laughs at me, her words slurring incoherently. Definitely intoxicated.

"Depends," I eye her person, noticing the lack of pockets on her shorts and absence of backpack.

"On what?" Her voice is oddly flat and emotionless. I would expect a person to be upset at having been caught in a trap, even a drunk one. Instead, she's just...uncaring.

"On what you have to trade for your freedom." I calmly crouch down a safe distance from the girl. Something silver glints in her hands. A knife?

"And why--" She girls pauses to hiccup. "Should I give you anything?"

I shrug. "Do you want to be freed?" Yes, it's a knife in her hands. A nice, sharp one. I could do many things with a nice blade like that.

"What's it to you...?"

Honestly, it's nothing. I don't care in the slightest if she wants to get set free. I just want her knife. "This is my trap," I tell her casually, slowly and carefully scooting forward. I doubt she will part with her only weapon amicably. "And there is no way you can escape without my say so."

"Oh?" The girl's eyes narrow, an odd sight when she's upside down. "Well, hurray for you darling. It must be nice to be good at something."

I eye her coldly. "I'm good at many things, thank you very much."

"I'm sure you--" Another hiccup. "I'm sure you are. You look like an expert whore."

My hand shoots out and punches her in the face. She screams as her lip splits, blood spilling down her face as she sways back and forth. "You stupid little--!" She utters many curses, several the foulest in creation. I ignore her and leap for her right hand, where she holds the knife. But she's too quick and the blade nips past my wrist, leaving a small cut that drip crimson drops.

"Too slow, darling!" She laughs and spits blood.

Of all the most loathsome creatures! I pull back and pace about the tree lines. I'd never let her down--not that I was planning to--but I cannot kill her either. And not just because I'm weaponless. She's ranked higher then I am, for some unknowable reason.

"Just go on!" Victoria drawls from her hanging position. "I don't care if I hang here. So why should you waste your time? Just go."

I would like to go and leave this stupid little barbie. I would like that very much. But I cannot, not until I have that knife. "Do you value your life?" I ask the girl, hoping she's too drunk to remember the rankings. My hands curl around a nearby branch. A big hefty one.

"Nope."

Not the answer I was expecting, but fine. Have it her way.

I grip the branch and dart forward. The girl tries to swing herself away, but she's too slow. The thick branch slams into her gut, eliciting a pained grunt and sending her shirt flying over her head. Blinded and unable to see through the cloth, she slashes widely with the knife. I smack her second time, harder, and watch as she drops the knife.

In a flash I nip forward and snag it, pulling back to the treeline. "You're a foul cockroach," I tell her coldly.

Victoria laughs. "So are you."

I scowl. She, for one, certainly belongs in these games. Perhaps Mr. White isn't as despicable as he seems. I examine the knife in my hands, it's a quaint little weapon with a sharp blade. Perfect for many different tasks. "Thank you for the knife," I say, pocketing it. "But I now I must go. You understand, don't you?"

Her only response is to laugh.

"Very well. I'm sure you won't be alone for long. Another Challenger will stumble by soon...unless the animals finish you off first." I turn and stalk into the woods, leaving the wasted girl hanging as her emotionless laughter echoes throughout the woods.

Oreo Dutton (10:45 P.M)
Night has arrived on the island. The for once cloudless sky is clear, a deep darkness of comfort. Polar-white stars dot the sky, flickering and shimmering like scattered moondust. It is a truly beautiful sight.

The song of the sea soothes me as the dark waves ripple gently against the shore. I had initially found the ocean to be terrifying, with its hidden depths and pounding surf, but at this moment I believe I can find the beauty in it.

I stand shoeless on the shore, bare feet on the soft sand. It's a little chilly, but that doesn't matter. I walk along the edge of the water, watching the dancing waves out at sea when the broad beam of the lighthouse illuminates them.

"Oreo!" Imogen calls from where she sits with Fausto beside a crackling fire. It sends rippling shadows across our tent and the beach. Shapes of the trees loom up like terrifying monstrosities of a dream.

"Yes?" I take a glance back at the ocean, where a bird swoops down from the sky. I had thought they'd all be sleeping.

"You want to eat?" Fausto holds up a bit of fish. He caught plenty throughout the day, and we've cooked many with fires. Fish isn't my favourite food by any stretch, but these don't taste too bad.

"I suppose."

I drift back towards the warmth of the fire, a sudden wind ruffling my dress. It's rather unfair, I think. Everyone else is dressed in adaptable, comfortable clothes, Fausto is even wearing a tank top and shorts. Meanwhile I'm stuck in a frilly party dress. That gives me a disadvantage. No wonder I'm ranked so low.

"Here ya go!" Fausto hands me a slab of wood that we've been using as plate, laden with steaming, fried fish.

I smile, taking it. "Thank you."

"No problem!" He winks playfully and I giggle. He is quite handsome. With his charming smile, twinkling eyes, softly tanned skin and muscular arms...I see how he could be quite the heartthrob for the girls back home. Here too. I spare a glance at Imogen and see her watching him with a joyful expression, dreamy smile etched on her face.

"You feeling okay?" I ask, poking her in the shoulder playfully. "Things aren't too hot for you?"

"W-what?" She shakes her head like emerging from a stupor. She stares at me "No. I'm fine. Perfectly fine."

I smile. "I'm sure you are."

I focus on eating as my two allies begin to talk. I like them both. They're good people. But...it leaves me feeling a little uncertain. If we aren't rescued, and with these bomb collars I'm quite certain we cannot be, everyone will die. Liking these people could be the worst thing that could possibly happen.

I could wind up watching them die, like Nora.

I feel a chill run through me, and the light from the fire seems to dim. Nora. I...Could we have saved her? It didn't seem likely, but the more I think about it, the more I remember...

Did I doom the girl to die?

I know that Imogen said that I was right, but...Still. Don't be so melodramatic A voice tells me. ''Everyone will die but one. How could you save them all? You shouldn't even try!'' The only way for me to live is for everyone else to die. That should make me feel better, but it actually does the opposite. Everyone will die. No matter how nice or kind they are. Death will get them all the same. Even I can't really see a way out of this predicament.

"You listening, Oreo?"

"Huh?" I look up to see both Imogen and Fausto staring at me. "What is it?"

"We were wondering about the lighthouse," Fausto points up the rocky cliffs at the orange-striped tower. "Do you think someone is up there?"

"I...umm." The lighthouse certainly looks like it would offer shelter. But would that be too obvious? I know that if I were searching for someone, that would be the first place I looked. "Maybe. Do you think they could see us?"

My question catches them off guard. Imogen squirms on her log. "W-will they attack?"

"We don't know if anyone is even up there," Fausto replies steadily. His firm eyes are fixed on the building, hands clutching his trident. "But if someone is, I doubt they'd attack a group."

"Unless they are a group too," I mutter. They both watch me curiously.

"I never thought about the possibility of other groups," Fausto admits.

"They could be stronger then us..." Imogen murmurs.

I hadn't even really thought of these implications until now. If the others are doing what we are, how do we hope to beat them? Fausto is strong, sure. But Imogen and I aren't really anything to fear. Neither of us are very large, or weapon savvy, or survival experts, or--

"I'm not worried!" Fausto sticks his trident into the sand, where it stays upright. "If they want us, then they can come get us!"

"Don't say that!" I look around in alarm, wondering if Mr. White will give our position away now. He does hear everything that happens...

"Calm down, Oreo," Imogen nods calmly, watching Fausto with clever eyes. She trusts the boy enough that if he's not afraid, she won't be either. I wonder if that's wise. "I doubt anyone is lurking in the woods watching us."

Great. Now I'm paranoid that something is hiding in the woods.

The night goes on. We talk about our lives back home for awhile, and I invite them both over to my parents home, just in case we ever get off this wicked island. Fausto doesn't say much. Never even speaks about his former life, or where he's from. All I know is that he lived near the ocean. Eventually I get tired and retire to the tent, where I lie flat on my back, dreading sleep. I just know that I will see Nora die again.

"You know, Fausto," Imogen's voice can be heard from outside the tent. "You look a lot like a kid I used to know."

"Eh? Really? Who was he?" Fausto doesn't sound very interested.

"He...Well, he was a friend." A short, awkward pause. The fire crackles loudly. "But, then...he left. He kinda...began bullying me."

"That's no good."

"Yeah...Well, I didn't really..." She trails off, obviously uncomfortable. "I don't know why Misha did that..."

"Wait. Misha?" Fausto's interest is suddenly piqued. "Did you say his name was Misha?"

"Y-yeah. Why?" Imogen doesn't understand, but I do.

"Was his name Misha Castiel, by any chance?"

"H-how did you know?"

"Check your datapad. Number ten."

I don't know how she didn't notice it earlier. How she overlooked his name. He's literally ranked right above her! He even has a picture! There's a soft gasp as Imogen finds him. "Misha!"

"That's him, huh?"

"Yes!" Imogen sounds mortified. I roll over onto my side, wondering why that would be. Didn't Misha bully her?

"Guess he got his comeuppance, huh?" Fausto chuckles quietly. "You might even be the one who gets to end him."

"Fausto!" Imogen is shocked and repulsed. "How could you say such a thing? Why would I want Misha to die? Because he bullied me? That's no reason at all!"

"He betrayed you too, you know. He was your friend, wasn't he?" Fausto is calm. Odd, for someone who was just advocating murder. "And he betrayed you. Why wouldn't he deserve death?"

"I...I don't even..." Imogen is at a lost for words. I don't know what to think. Fausto could be right...

"There are some people with whom I have an axe to grind ," Fausto says coldly. "And if they were on this island, you better believe that I would slice their damn faces off."

Misha Castiel (11:38 P.M)
I stalk through the misty, fog-laden forest, slicing through the undergrowth with my machete. Normally, I'd be asleep. But not here. Not on this island. Here, good things come to those who keep awake.

Like last night, for instance. There I was, stumbling through the woods just minding my own business, looking for suitable shelter, when Mr. White announces an air drop. And where does this drop take place? Right beside me of course!

I grin, slashing down a large fern that grew too close to my path. This excellent machete was among the prizes inside that crate. It was the most important thing, but it wasn't the only thing. There was also a heavy-duty flashlight, which I use to light my path now. Also, bread, nuts, some rope, a vial of strange fluid that smells awful, and a strange square emblem.

I actually have no idea what that last item is for. It's bronze, and inladen with what looks like pearls and engraved with the number '3'. Like I said, it's strange. I keep it in the backpack the air drop gave, along with my other stuff. I don't know what it's for, but it looks cool. Might as well keep it.

Currently, I'm just wandering the island. According to the "advice" I received from a "die hard fan" there was someone "in the place 'yer at" and that "He's ranked higher than 'ya." Naturally I cleared house, remembering to thank Jessica, the person who apparently sent me the letter. I'm actually a little disturbed that people are watching this and enjoying it instead of, oh, I don't know, freaking the hell out! Like, sheesh. I know they're trying to help, but maybe it'd be better to just ignore Mr. White. I mean, if no one watches he has no game, right?

Or maybe not. I don't know. I'm no great thinker.

The trees around me begin to thin out and soon I emerge into a small clearing, where a solitary tree stump rests. Frowning, I approach the stump and nearly laugh aloud. Embedded in the stump, as if someone slammed it down, is an axe.

"This is just too good to be true!" I stow my machete away, gripping the axe's handle and ripping it free. My parents own a lumber company. I've been around axes my entire life. What better weapon could there be?

I give the weapon a few test swings. Perfect. Just perfect. I'm a big threat now, possibly more of a threat then anyone else. I mean, what else could be more threatening then I am? No one!

Chuckling softly, I turn and see a small bag hanging from a tree, a small stake driven through the top. "Ha! Another item for me!" I reach out and grab the bag, pulling it away from the tree.

And fall back screaming as it reveals the face of a skeleton.

I scamper back on my hands and knees, scooting away from the terrifying sight. What the hell! Who died? I hit the stump and pull myself back up, shakily focusing my flashlights beam on the skeleton, giving me a better look.

I laugh.

The skeleton is fake. One of those cheap plastic things people place out in their yards during Halloween. It's not real. "Nice trick, Mr. White!" I say as I shove the stupid thing to the ground. "Real nice trick."

I can't believe how big of a fool I just made myself! Everyone watching must be laughing like crazy. I slam my axe into the stump. Stupid! What kind of idiot gets scared by such a cheap trick?

Grumbling all the while, I check the new bag I found. Inside is a pair of boots, kinda like the type soldiers wear in shows, and a slick rain jacket. Cool and all, but nothing game changing. Just extra benefits. "Wonder if it even rains here," I pull the jacket over my shoulders, glad to find that it fits. "It definitely fogs."

The misty gray fog has spread even further while I armed myself. Now the entire forest is cloaked, making it exceedingly difficult to see more then a few feet past my face, even with the flashlight.

Leaves crunch under my feet as I continue out of the clearing. It's too exposed to stay there for the night, plus...Well, that skeleton freaks me out, real or not. The fog envelopes the clearing a mere moment after I step away. I stumble on, slightly uneasy.

A soft, dull moaning reaches my ears. I spin around, flashlight scanning the trees, but I see nothing. What was that? It sounded like a person...

"Hello?" I call out cautiously. I'm aware that this could be deadly, but there's only nine people on this island who can kill me, and I doubt anyone would risk striking through this fog without knowing who they're attacking. "Anyone there?"

No answer.

A chill wind tickles my face and I shiver. I should have stayed at the clearing...Suddenly I panic. I blindly charge through some undergrowth and emerge on the other side to see someone hanging upside down.

I scream.

"Well, nice to see you too." A bored, lifeless voice greets me from behind chocolate hair. I step back, blinking twice as I re-evaluate the situation. She's alive, and she's a Challenger...

"Uh...Who're you?" I gawp stupidly at the ridiculous sight. A rope stretches high into the trees, tied around the girls feet. Her long legs extend downwards from there past her shorts, to where her head sits just a foot from the group. Every now and then her shirt keeps falling and covering her face. She continually brushes it aside, muttering. "And...why are you...like this?"

"Because I think it's fun." I get the sense she's being sarcastic, though her voice has no tone behind it.

"You wandered into a trap!" I'm finally putting two and two together. I was a little thrown off, finding a beautiful girl hanging around in the middle of nowhere, but now my mind is coming back to me. "And now you're stuck."

"Bravo. You figured it out." She puts her slender hands together and gives me a slow golfclap. "You win the grand prize."

"And what's that?" I ask, staring at her long legs.

"Absolutely nothing. Isn't that just great?" She laughs wildly, and for the first time I notice the empty bottles lying beside her head.

"Have you been drinking?" There's a strong scent of alcohol coming off her, so strong, that I'm surprised I hadn't noticed it before.

She shrugs, or at least, the closest she can manage while being upside down. "Maaaybe. Nuthin' else to do, eh?" She laughs again. I frown and check my datapad, the faint light glowing through the fog that surrounds us. I'm not sure, but I think she's Victoria Sinclair, #14. She's ranked lower then I am...I could kill her, either axe her or slice her open with my machete...

My stomach flips unpleasantly at the thought. I...I don't think I want to kill her. Not...not with her tied up and defenceless...

"You going do something?" Victoria has noticed my heistance. "Or you just going to continue admiring my body?"

"What would you have me do?" I don't want to kill her. But I don't know if I should just let her go. What about the person who trapped her? Will they be upset?

"She's gone," It's almost like Victoria can read my thoughts. "The girl, that salty bitch, she left. Gone, gone, gone. Just like us."

"Oh." So her trapper isn't returning. Whoever it was must have been ranked lower then Victoria, or they would certainly have killed the girl. I wonder who it was. They were quite crafty to configure a trap like this. That makes them a big threat.

"You still there, handsome?" Victoria prods at my ankles with her hands. I jerk away, watching her tepidly. Her shirt once more conceals her face. "Or you gone off to la-la land?"

"I'm going to let you down," I say.

"Excuse me?"

"I said I'm going to let you down." I set my axe down against a tree, taking my machete as I reach for the rope that snares Victoria. I didn't think this idea through before I said it. But...I don't want to kill the girl, and I don't want to leave her for someone else to kill either.

"And why are you doing that?" Victoria sounds curious, the first emotion I've seen her show. "I'm the enemy, remember? Everyone is."

"Yeah, but..." I don't know what to say. Helping random people out isn't like me at all. Normally, I'd just laugh at someone in this predicament and move on, but I feel different now. I suppose it's because Victoria is stuck in the same position I am. Mr. White kidnapped us both without consent. It feels like he'd want me to kill her, and by refusing I can one-up him.

"Watch your head. I'm cutting you loose." My blade snips the rope and Victoria rolls free, landing on her back and laughing loudly.

"Ohh...That feels good. Blood no longer rushing to my head..." She splays her limbs out and begins making angels in the grass. I guess they're grass angels? I pocket the extra rope, storing it away as I watch Victoria warily.

"You frightened me with that moaning," I make small talk, unsure on what else to do. "But that's how I found you, following the noise."

She sits up abruptly, stormy gray eyes staring into my own. A sly smile stretches across her lips. "I wasn't making any noise."

"Huh? Yeah, you were. I followed it here..." I clearly remember the sounds when I left the clearing. It was a person. I'm sure it was.

"No. I never made a noise. Silent as mouse." The girl pulls herself up to her full height, and she's tall for a girl. Even taller then me. "But I don't doubt you heard something. There's things out there, terrible things."

I blink at her. What she said was so menacing, yet she spoke with such an uneven bored tone. Does she actually care about anything? "What do you mean, Victoria?"

She makes a small noise in the back of her throat. "Call me Tori."

"Uh. Okay, Tori." I watch her as she shifts from foot to foot, boredly staring out into the misty forest around us. "What do you mean?"

Tori stops moving. Her hands go back to her side, her eyes drifting over to meet my own. "Don't you know where we are?"

"No. Where are we?" An island. I know that much. But does she know something else? Does she know where the island is located? Could she possibly lead me to a way off the island? "Where are we, Tori?"

"Hell."

The word hangs in the air. The wind whips at our bodies, blowing the fog around our heads. I shake my head. "You're insane!"

"We're in Hell, Misha." Tori sounds dead certain of herself. I don't even know if it's the alcohol making her say this, it feels like she truly believes it. "Everyone gets what they deserve. And this is what we deserve."

"I...don't think that's true." I'm not a bad person. Never was. Never will be. I don't deserve this. If anyone thinks I do, then they're stupid and ignorant! They don't know the first thing about me! "I don't deserve this!" I say aloud, frightened by how shrill my voice is. "Mr. White is just a psycho who kidnapped us! We're not dead!"

Tori stares at me. "Yes, you're right....But that doesn't mean this isn't hell or that we don't deserve it."

A ringing fills the quiet, dead night. Our datapads flicker with life, revealing the ghasty face of Mr. White. He looks paler then before. "Hello, Challengers! It is now midnight, meaning that the Rankings will go down for our lovely fans to vote! They will return at noon, once more."

I grit my teeth and look up at Tori. She's watching her own datapad blankly. Surely she can't think we all deserve to be at the mercy of this psycho?

"Also, I would like to remind you that killing the others is the only way for this game to end," Mr. White is frowning now. "It appears that most of you aren't actively trying to accomplish this. In fact, only Anne and the top five seem eager. You've spent two days here on my island, and only two Challengers have died. Quite disappointing. You'll never be ready at this rate. Maybe you need more motivation." There's a flash of movement and a detonator suddenly appears in his hands.

"Perhaps I should blow one of you up? Hmm?" His fingers toy with a large black button. I self-consciously touch the collar around my neck, imagining if it were to suddenly go off, blowing my head to bloody chunks. Mr. White chuckles. "But, I think not. At least, not now. You see, Ali was killed today. This fact will prevent me from blowing your heads off, for now." He sets the detonator in his pocket and I find myself sighing with relief. I was actually worried for a second.

"But our viewers are getting bored!" Mr. White smiles oddly. "And so, I fully expect you all to perform much more eagerly on the morrow. If you don't..." He mimes an explosion with his hands. "One or more of you may find yourselves in pieces."

"Sick bastard!" I can't help but glare at the lunatic. What is wrong with him?

"Now, I'll leave you with Ali's death. Ta-ta for now!"

Footage of a middle-eastern boy charging a group of kids armed with shiny steel weapons suddenly plays. One boy uses a bow to incapacitate the kid and then drives a sword right through his chest. As the camera pans out, I see that they're in a building. Then the footage ends and we're back in the silence of the forest.

Huh. There's buildings on this island? I never would have suspected that.

Tori turns and walks for the forest.

"Wait! Where are you going?!" I step forward and grab her shoulder, stopping her right before she slips into the fog shrouded forest. She turns and narrows her eyes at me.

"Why do you care?"

I halt. Why do I care? I stare at the dark forest that surrounds me, covered in thick fog that hides even the trees. My flashlight beam wavers weakly. I...I suppose I don't want to be left in these woods. Alone. With people trying to kill me.

"I let you down," I say quietly.

"And? Do you expect a reward?" Her eyes flash dangerously as she steps forward. My heart skips a beat, suddenly worried that I made a terrible decision. Did I even check her for weapons?

"I...don't want anything!" I tell her quickly, backing up. The kids at school will so be mocking me mercilessly for this. What kind of guy backs down from a girl? "I am just wondering where you plan to go."

"So am I."

She turns and slips away into the darkness, immediately disappearing from sight. A strange mix of emotion washes over me. Disappointment, fear, and anticipation. Tori is gone, and I am once more left on my own.

I sigh and look to the sky, where even the moon and the stars have been masked by the shapeless, writhing fog.

Justine Leonard (11:15 A.M)
"Felix...wake up!" I gently nudge my brother's shoulder, keeping a close eye out for the others as they lie around the large tree, sleeping quietly. I've spent a good amount of time thinking on this--the entirety of last night actually--and have decided that it's time we upped and left this alliance. Apparently, our "fans" agreed. I received a letter from them telling me to do just that.

"Umm? What...what's happening?" My brother mutters as he rolls over onto his side, ignoring my gentle prodding. "Five...Five more minutes..."

"No!" I whisper a bit louder, shaking him now. "No more minutes! It's eleven 0'clock for Pete's sake! Why are you still sleeping?!" And how much longer will the others stay that way? I'm currently supposed to be on guard, ensuring Nero stays put in his tree, but who knows when the others will wake? I bet they already would have if the sun wasn't hidden behind a thick blanket of dark gray clouds.

"Don't wanna...wanna sleep..." Felix tries to roll away again, but this time I pinch his arms and his green eyes shoot open immediately. "Ouch! Justine! What are--"

My hands shoot out and cover his mouth. "Be quiet!" I snap at him, throwing a glance over my shoulder to make sure the others are still asleep. Nic scratches at himself and mumbles, but the others remain steady. I turn my frosty glare back to Felix. "Do you want us to get killed?"

He blinks sleepily. "I don't understand."

I sigh. "No, of course you don't."

I get to my feet, shivering slightly in the chill morning. The grass around us sparkles with dew, and the gray horizon brings the promise of rain. A risky proposition considering our lack of shelter. "Get your stuff," I tell Felix quietly.

"Umm...Why?" He yawns as he sits up, stretching much louder then necessary. I swear, sometimes my brother is a moron. "And what are you doing?"

I've begun creeping towards the sleeping forms of our "allies". Ditching them and taking just our own supplies wouldn't work. I mean, well, it would work, but why just take our own stuff when we can take theirs too?

I stop just in the center of the clearing, before the big tree. Which one should I rob? Nic, being the greedy pig that he is, has already eaten most of his food. Empty wrappers and discarded cans litter the grass around his head. So not him. Tristan is tempting, but he's lying asleep atop his bag, making it nigh impossible to take without waking him. Chris, meanwhile, has his own bag less than a foot away from himself, and he still has food.

So Chris it is.

"Seriously, Justine. What're you doing?" Felix's loud voice carries over from where he's begun collecting his stuff. I resist the urge to yell at him. Apparently this is too discreet for him to figure out, at least, this early in the morning.

"Just. Shut. Up." I tiptoe across the grass, bending over and looping my fingers around the straps of Chris' bag. Please don't wake up I find myself thinking as I tug it away from the sleeping boy. Please don't wake up.

It gets pulled away from his side and I smile as I throw it around my shoulder. Chris is going to be pissed when he wakes up!

I trot back to Felix, whose sitting on a rock grinding his spear tip into the dirt. "You gonna explain why we're ditching?" He asks as I join him.

"Ahh. So you figured it out!"

He raises an eyebrow. "I'm not stupid. Least, not when I'm not half-asleep."

I shrug. "Sometimes you make it hard to know what you know, if you know what I mean."

He shakes his head, laughing gently. "God, I've missed you Justine. You and your witty--" His eyes widen in sudden fear, muscles tensing in his powerful shoulders as he grips his spear. "Duck!"

I listen to my twin, throwing myself onto the ground so hard that I'll be picking dirt out of my teeth for weeks. Then Felix heaves his spear and there's a scream of pain as Nic drops to his knees with the polearm lodged in his left shoulder, blood spurting out between the steel.

"Run, Justine!"

Felix screams at me as the tranquil forest silence is broken. Nic howls with pain as he rolls around, roaring with anger as crimson bloods sprays from his wound. The others wake up instantaneously, weapons in hand. I just have enough wherewithal to notice Chris drawing his bow, notching an arrow as he turned to Felix.

"No!"

My body reacts before my mind. I throw myself up, tackling Felix to the ground as an arrow whistles past, millimetres away from skewering my head.

We hit the ground hard. Then Felix is up, pulling me along into the woods as Chris unleashes another arrow. This one barely misses, clipping my ear and gushing blood. Chris must be beside himself with so many near hits.

"Go!" Felix shoves me and we're off into the forest that offers respite from the arrows, leaving our former allies behind.