The most amazing thing, no, the most infuriating thing about this girl-child is that she isn't supposed to be alive. Not in any sense of the word what-so-ever. When she was brought here, she should have died, alone in the mountain top wilderness, buried in snow. But she didn't, that stubborn ass, and now I have to deal with her. Well, I have been dealing with her, but only in the most minimalistic way possible. Soon I'll strike her down, but for now, she repulses me to much to move against her and I must admit I enjoy the other betters frustrations as well.

Yet still, why couldn't she have just died? Just sat down in the snows white futility and let her bones take in the cold, feel the bitter winter air begin to first slow, then stop her pathetic little heart? But no. That drive to live, that infuriating desire to do anything so long as it keeps her body breathing, why couldn't that have vanished for only one moment? Others, ones stronger and more likely to survive, crumbled under the overwhelming odds and let their lives slowly slip away without a fight.

But not her.

It's not even that she survived really. Well, it is to an extent. I put two-thousand yurgs on her death myself. But more than that; this girl, this annoying little prat, she found others. She made them work together. They found a cave, they lit a fire, they warmed up. And then she did the worst thing possible. She convinced those with her to help her find other survivors. She enraged not only myself, but the other betters. We do not try to foresee who will live, that's not important or interesting in the least; players are always replaceable. No, we bet on who will die, and many were expected to die that day, but merely half did. We lost money not only on that girl but also those who lived because of her. Lots of money.


There are always rules concerning the game. There must, of course, be a way that the players can survive, otherwise betting on who will die becomes be a brainless exercise. No, there must always be some way for them to survive, and it must be available to all players. And for us, there are always the stats, a betters tool, a trick for the sensible. On which level will she fall, this girl who's existence is causing mine to be next to intolerable? Perhaps there is hidden knowledge in her file.

Of course, she was supposed to fall that first day. The blinding snow storm, the bitter winds, the unintelligible forest with no other soul in sight. Who would press forward? She would have needed to walk for miles to find the cave, or be lucky enough to find another human who had not been broken from hopelessness and work with them in order to survive. She would have had to ignore the freezing of her finger tips, wade through the billowing snowdrifts, and skirt around the carnivores starved for winter meat.

And through all of this, she would know that there were thousands of us, watching her every move, willing her to die, waiting for her to die, placing money on her death. She would know that instead of being mourned for by her friends and family, the stopping of her heart would cause a cheer through the crowd, the passing of money, and the drinking of wine, or perhaps whiskey. All this knowledge was supposed to weigh upon her like an anchor until she could fight no longer. How could she continue when she knew she was really just expected to die?


There are always a few in the first round who are placed purely to die. They are the players the beginners to learn with, the experienced have peace of mind with. This girl was supposed to be one of them. Once you see her stats, you will know why, and I will share them with you shortly. Of course, I'll have to give you her beginning stats, because they change as the game continues. Players loose weight, their sanity begins to waver, they learn new tricks, and worse things. They may become friends with another player in an attempt to survive longer, and that is always the worst news for a better, for you can never tell how far the friend is willing to go for the other. All this must be taken into account. That is simply good technique, mere intelligence.

Occasionally, bands of humans will form, but they break up eventually. Too many die, they decide some members are useless, or they are simply unable to complete their task. Groups are never a good thing, but they can be stopped. They are trifles, thorns in our sides, but they can always be picked apart. We always tell ourselves this, for it has always held true. Now this girl, this child, has somehow united the largest band we've ever seen, and so far, it has been successful. But no matter. There are still levels to go before the end. She will be destroyed, along with all her friends and followers as an example to any other player. Of course there will have to be a way that they can survive, but it will be difficult. Far more difficult than any previous games. Their deaths will be slow and painful, drawn out to their full extent, and of course, she will be to blame.


This child, I suppose you want to know about her, don't you. You probably don't even care about me, who I am, what I think. Of course not. You immediately side with her because she is the poor player, destined to die. You cannot see how she brought this upon herself. You do not care at all that I am merely taking advantage of a game, a pleasure, a past time which has been so kindly placed before me. But fine, I will tell you of her. The official information will come later, when I feel like it, but for now, an overview.

Her name is Haydee and if she has a last name, I don't know it and don't care to know it. She is young, between adulthood and childhood, but I don't remember what it is exactly. A normal height, something like five feet and seven inches and something like a normal weight. Her strength is remarkably low, her stubbornness remarkably high. Her intelligence is average, health average as well. Only slightly near-sighted, it doesn't really matter if her glasses get broken. Really, the only remarkable thing about her from a first glance over her records would be that she is amazingly flexible, but that doesn't help a player much when stuck in a snow storm. In hindsight, I suppose I should have noted the stubbornness, but who would have really thought that so much of a variant? I was looking for major strengths and weaknesses, major physical differences. Stubbornness could only account for so much, until the mind gave in to the will of the body.

She was supposed to die in that snowstorm. Things would have been so much simpler. Damn this girl. You cannot believe the troubles he life is causing mine.

Did I mention she is a criminal of the worst degree?


a/n: I know it's not great. I know it's barely mediocre, but stick with me, or at least give me some helpful hints and critiques, alright? Please? I promise it will get better, when my lost muse finds its way home.