It’s all downhill from here, Leslie kept thinking. It was something her chat said, a meme that she enforced. Being in a streamer friend group that was highly competitive, Leslie was used to being the first one to die, to be treated as bait. Well, as used to it as you could, with a thousand insults being thrown at you every time you stepped out of line. But she’d always have her friends supporting her, coaching her, and that made those ‘pop-off’ moments all the sweeter.

Too bad they weren’t around to tell her how to get rid of the madwoman chasing her since she left the Bilgewater market. Well, they probably were, only she couldn’t hear them. Good thing she bought herself some nice shoes.

Leslie ran, you guessed it, downhill. Along the narrow outside road of the peninsula’s peaks, tall shanty’s tipping their rooves to see what went down far below. Without glass windows, each building felt so open, so inviting, warm smells and songs and faces hanging out.

A spear rippled past.

An inch off her ear. An inch off her fringe. Continuing ahead, the spear tore through an emerald bedsheet, a red rug, then got stuck halfway into a pillowcase. Leslie ducked through the openings; it was quicker than going around. The voices above stopped being so inviting. Faces too. As if it was her fault for scheduling a chase on laundry day. Leslie shrugged as she strode past, her new boots whipping up a tailwind behind her, billowing sheets like sails.

Thank God for these boots, she thought, though I don’t remember seeing any spears lying about. How is that a fair start?

Behind her she heard a grunt as her pursuer stopped to retrieve her spear. Between that and her speedy (and fashionable) legwear, Leslie was gaining distance. The issue was that this was a one-way street, and she had no idea where it led. Or even if it led anywhere. She strafed to the side a bit, anticipating the next bullshit jungle-spear. Maybe not the best idea while belting it down a steep decline as she stumbled immediately. Though, as she fell to her knees the spear finally came, right through where her head would’ve been a second ago.

Relief came and went in an instant, because Leslie had but one thought.

Oh God, I’m going to be the first person to publicly die in Bilgewater Battle Royale.

She could see the chat in her head, scrolling down the right side of her vision -only, that it wasn’t chat but a person, and they really were falling down. Straight down, in fact.

Leslie heard laughter. In the building above she caught sight of an old woman, reveling in her plight. “Hey, you!” Leslie yelled at her, pointing, “Do you see that?”

Eyes bulging out momentarily, the woman redacted her smile and swiveled back inside, hastily making some sort of religious gesture. Then, the stained bedsheet behind Leslie was swiped back by her chaser, so she broke back into a sprint. Okay, I’ll be the second person to die.

The road, as it turned out, lead to a rope bridge, a long one that spanned the farthest two peaks of the peninsula. Like most bridges, it didn’t have laundry lines; Leslie would be exposed. She didn’t have much energy left, anyway. She wondered if she would survive a jump, maybe fall damage wasn’t a thing. Sighing, she turned back. Her pursuer was having a little difficulty getting the shaft of her spear out from a few cobblestones, but doubtless it wouldn’t take her long. Still, it gave her one little hope; if they missed a throw widely enough on the bridge, they weren’t getting that back. Bending down, she tapped her boot on the side. “Come on, boots. Little more.”

She ran. The bridge swayed. A lot. The mystical wind from Leslie’s boots wasn’t very welcome here. She stared ahead, focusing only on staying on the bridge and staying alive on the bridge. On the other side, someone else ran in an equally distressed manner. And there was something familiar about them.

As they got within earshot, near the center of the bridge, Leslie remembered. She pointed at the distant girl’s gloves. Lovely fluffy things. “I remember you!” Leslie yelled over the roaring wind. “In the tailor’s shop. I was going to buy those.”

The distant girl cocked her head. Reluctantly, she slowed her run. “Well, I was going to buy yours,” she said, pointing at Leslie’s boots.

Leslie laughed, then noticed that this girl too had a pursuer, running up on the bridge ahead. They wielded a crossbow, awkwardly. It’d take them quite a while to line up a shot.

“Are you being chased too?”

“Too?” The other gloved girl peered behind Leslie. Then nodded.

“Team up?” Leslie asked.

“Oh-okay.”

It was uncanny. It couldn’t be. But Leslie recognized the shy, jaded mannerism, even from within a different body. “Wendy, please tell me that’s you.”

“Leslie?”

Social deduction skills validated! Leslie smiled. The two of them stared down their side of the bridge, back-to-back. Both pursuers lined up their shots. “Yes, yes, no time. Tell me, what skill did you find?”

Wendy raised her gloves. “Uhh, you know Trundle?”

Leslie swung her gaze around. “You got the chomp? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, no. Ice pillar. You?”

Spear and crossbow bolt flew. Leslie pulled Wendy aside, well used to dodging with her enhanced speed. Behind her, the spear thunked into a life-size block of ice sprouting from, well…

“I have uh, windy boots? Don’t know what that’s from,” Leslie said.

Wendy sighed, and stood up, face pained with defeat. “That’s Janna’s passive. We really got two of the most impractical abilities.”

Leslie yanked Wendy aside as another bolt flew wide. Her pursuer on the other hand was wrestling with her spear. With difficulty, as they needed to blow and rub their hands together for warmth after every attempt. It was an opportunity.

Leslie grabbed Wendy’s hand and headed to the pillar. “You know what they don’t have?” she asked, letting her boots tailwind carry her foot swiftly into a kick. Breath rising in clouds, her pursuer was far too numb to dodge. They bounced, face down and slid off the bridge, blue fingers scrambling without any meaningful grip.

“They don’t got their super best friend.” Leslie struck a pose, failing to keep it steady as the bridge rocked.

Both turned their attention to the remaining person on the bridge. She lowered her crossbow, confused.

Wendy shrugged “Okay, true.”