"But darling, why must you insist that we care so much for a child that was literally born for death to begin with?" Gwenivere Romanov sighed to her husband, Ramone.

"Because, sweetheart, I want just one of our children to be like me," the large, hairy man pouted.

"What's so wrong with our children being like me?" Gwenivere asked flippantly.

Ramone crossed his arms over his chest. "Nothing, sweetheart, you're beautiful. But why can't any of them be like me?"

Gwenivere groaned and tossed her head back to look at the tiled ceiling far above. "Because, Ramone, you're so….hairy," Gwenivere whined, scrunching up her nose.

"Don't do that, love, it makes you look hungry," Ramone sighed.

"Well maybe I am hungry," Gwenivere countered. "I haven't had a decent meal in nearly a month. Those stupid rodents I keep catching in the backyard are doing nothing for my appetite."

"Gwenivere, you know we can't risk you having a decent meal after the way Lana behaved last week. If we'd been found out, I'd have staked her."

"You will not stake your daughter," Gwenivere huffed, crossing her arms over her ample chest.

"Well, you needn't worry about food, sweetheart. Come, let me show you the little game I've set up for you…."

There was a giant chess board to his left, with a large Knight standing guard on the edge of his field of vision, just to the right of an even larger Queen. But the board he stood on was very different. He didn't understand what game it was supposed to be. But he was certain that it could be deadly. He could see an old, decrepit house ahead of him, with windows boarded shut and a broken-down front door. The sky above was pitch black, the only light illuminating his way coming from old, wrought-iron lamp posts with the glass broken out, exposing the light bulbs inside.

There were two dice the size of an old Nintendo 64 sitting at his feet. The voice in his ear, the one that sounded as if it were coming from a little cartoon devil, whispered for him to take his turn. He leaned down and picked up one of the dice. It was nearly as heavy as his 4-year-old little sister. He heaved it up and lugged it as far as it could, seeing it barely move in the air. Before it had the chance to clatter onto the board a few yards in front of him, he'd already done the same with the other die. They collided, both of them spinning a little. After a moment, they settled, and he'd rolled a 4 and a 3 for a total of 7.

As if being flung forward by an unseen force, he was pushed 7 spaces in front of him. A very loud, deep voice rang out, as if it were overseeing what went on in this realm. Realm. He didn't know what else to think of it as, because this certainly wasn't the real world. Everything looked so surreal and fantastical. He convinced himself he must've been dreaming. That had to be it.

"Be careful," the booming voice around him mocked. "You're scare tissue is showing."

Scare tissue? What the hell did that even mean? He was starting to seriously freak out. What was going on? Where was he?

He couldn't see the other players, but he knew there were other victims surrounding the house, just as confused and scared as he was.

The dice appeared in front of him again. He rolled. 8 spaces forward—that put him inside the house. He was flung forward once more, thrown through a set of large, double doors made of iron, aiding to the gothic look of the rest of the house.

He looked around, finding himself surrounded by a small group of rather hungry looking people.

"Look children," the woman said, glancing around the circle that had quickly surrounded him. "Dinner has arrived."

"Dinner? Wha—" His throat was ripped open before he could continue; three hungry children and their mother all feasting on his blood.

"That, my children, was only the appetizer. Now here comes the entrée," Ramone grinned sickeningly as a young blonde woman flew into their foyer and into the middle of their circle.