Once upon a time, there was a boy.

He was a good boy. A kind, innocent— and a bit spoiled— little boy. He lived in a cozy house with his parents. The boy loved seeking their attention. They would always cheer him up whenever he didn't get candy.

—Or toys, or pastimes, and etc.

But one day— when the boy was still at school— his house mysteriously went on fire. And coincidentally, his parents happened to be inside that house.

They died in the fire.

The end.

Brian stared at the crystals as they slowly changed from blue to orange. After washing the putrid blood off his body (He took a plastic bag to the pond, people were scared of him, but it was inevitable) and eating the leftovers from this morning, Brian sat alone. In a place where he wouldn't be disturbed.

Sniff! Sniff!

The smell stuck to his skin. Really, he couldn't get it off no matter how much he scrubbed. As far as Brian could tell, he smelled like dirt, blood, and iron.

His clothes (and armor) were also beyond hope. Not only was it more stubborn, but it was fucking red! and It stuck like a bitch!

Now he'll fucking stand out!

"..." The trees rustled. The wind, coming from the tunnels.

He hadn't done much after that and Brian felt powerless. Maybe it was because he wasn't able to do anything, but seeing people get slaughtered while you hide didn't feel good.

He came to them seeking safety in numbers and food. But what happened instead was a massacre. He nearly died.

"..." So Brian didn't feel so good right now. His head was filled with pictures of blood and gore. The screams of those people. He'll never forget about it.

Brian sighed. Worrying shouldn't be on his priority list right now, but he was still worried. Everything he's seen... everything he'd felt...

"Psst..." Ugh, what was it now?!

He scowled. Brian turned to the noise and found a gasping teenager wearing a beanie.

"S—Sorry there, b—but uhm..." The teenager looked at him rigidly, "Are you S—Sam?"

"What's it to you?" Brian glared at the teen. He was not up for anyone's shit, right now.

"I—I'm uhh... l—looking for uhh..." The teen closed one of his nostrils and snorted, "I—If you know w—what I mean..."

Brian sized him up, glaring at him. He'd seen him once. The teen was a Freshman.

"How do you know I sell them?" Brian squinted at him. He's not exactly public about it. People who bought from him go through a proxy. Unfortunately, that person was missing now.

The only time he's ever done it without a proxy was probably with...

"I heard it fr—from J—Jasper!" The teen stammered. Though Brian guessed that he wasn't doing it because he was nervous, "H—He was r—ranting about it o—out loud!"

'Fuck. That bastard!' Brian clicked his tongue.

"How'd you find me?" Brian asked.

"I—I asked around." The teen seemed to smile, "I—It took me a w—while, but I f—f—found you."

He was really not in the mood for this. Looking at him, he sighed, "Look, kid, I'm not really Sam."

"What?"

(Okay, there were many reasons for this; Brian has average looks, people often mistook him for someone else, he has (almost) zero presence in school, he never wears bright colors, has 4 similar hoodies but with different colors, and et cetera.)

He doesn't stand out, and Brian counted on that. Even though it doesn't always work, he always gets a laugh when it does.

Unfortunately, these were tough times.

"Y—You think I—I'm an i—idiot?!" The teenager blasted in anger, "I s—saw you earlier talking to t—that naked b—bitch!"

'Shit! And then there was that...' Things kept getting worse and worse for Brian. He should've just stayed quiet.

"Alright, you caught me." Brian sighed, it was better to not escalate things. He didn't know if the teen was stronger than him. He learned from his mistakes.

"I'm not planning to sell right now." He rose up from the ground. Although he never uses them himself, they were still valuable. Looking at him in the eye, he continued, "Beat it or else..."

"Or w—what?!" The teen snapped at him. A sudden mood swing, "S—Status!"

A screen popped up. Brian's eyes widened. Before he could do anything, the teen pulled out a sword and a shield.

"I'll f—fucking k—kill you! If you d—don't givvvveee me the coke!!!" The teen pointed his sword at him.

This is what drugs do to people. It makes you crazy when you stop for too long. That's why he never uses them. Drugs will hurt you (But an extra buck wouldn't).

Instead of begging for his life, however, Brian groaned. The teen didn't know why he was doing that and was confused, "G—Give me the c—coke right n—now! Or I—'ll fucking ki—kill you!"

Brian lamented on his luck. If he tried to run, this guy'll definitely scream coke. And then everyone would know...

"Now, here's the deal, motherfucker! When I fucking say I'm not selling. That fucking means, I'm not fucking selling..." He shoved his hand down his pants.

"T—The ffffuck a—are you?!"

Suddenly, he pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the teen, "I am so not in the fucking mood, right now..."

The teen was stiff. Speechless.

"IF YOU TELL ANYONE ABOUT THIS, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU MYSELF!!!" Brian barked at the teen, "SO BEAT IT!!! OR ELSE I'LL BLOW YOUR BRAINS OUT!!!"

He didn't think that a kid like him was carrying a gun! The teen quickly dropped his weapons as he held his hands up. "Ah—ah! A—Alright! Alright! J—Just calm down now—"

"BEAT IT!!!"

Brian's forehead was packed with veins and his eyes were streaked as he glared daggers at the teen. He shouldn't have used his gun...

"I'll l—leave!!! I'll leave!!! Ok?!" The teen scampered away. Things weren't looking good for everyone.

He panted for air as he lowered his pistol down and glanced at it. It was the mouse pistol he bought with his drug savings.

The side read L.W.SEECAMP CO. with it's serial number sanded off.

The gun was matte-black and could fit 6 .32 bullets. It was so small, you could literally fit it inside your pocket (and no one would know).

He bought the gun off for $863 Dollars. Overkill (since you couldn't buy a gun at 16), but it was worth the price. The old coot who sold it to him didn't really care. It'd saved him from trouble quite a few times.

"Hah..." Brian sighed out loud. It was back to being alone again. Finally.

"Look who's back..." Donny mumbled as he prepared the fire with one hand, he looked at Brian, who's uniform was dyed red.

The remains of Fetter's band sat around the campfire. They were all miserable, looking like they'd seen the worst. There was something about their eyes that couldn't be ignored.

Everyone was silent as they gazed at the fire. Brian remembered something he shouldn't have when he glanced at it. His mood got sourer.

"Is Fetter awake?" Brian looked a bit relieved. He sat on the corner of the fireplace, where were was no one. He put his bag down.

"Yeah..." Donny sighed, "He says that he's getting something."

There were only seven of them left.

(Three had gone upstairs with Donny. One was swimming in the red lake. Another one was found collapsed in the corner. And the last one was dying.)

Eleven had died during the incident. No one was happy about it. After informing the rest about it, no one seemed content about going into the tunnels anymore. No one did.

A couple of hours ago Mr.Dozzer was arguing with us about going back to give them a proper burial. Though, none of us had the stomach to do it.

"..." A brown-haired fellow sitting beside Donny stared, "...What's your name again?"

As soon as Brian noticed that the question was directed towards him, he answered, "It's... Charlie."

"So Charlie... uhm... what happened to your..." He pointed at his clothes.

"I was hiding..." Brian gestured a sort-of circle, "you know..."

"Oh..." The brown-haired sighed. His eyes were dull, "My name's Sully by the way. You can just call me Mouse."

Just as his nickname implied, Mouse was smaller than him. His eyes were black, and his clothes were as dirty as the earth. He looked like the brown rat you would find under the kitchen table, eating leftover cheese.

Mouse was the one we found fainted on the ground.

"..." Brian glanced at the girl at the other corner, who was curled up like a ball. It was Cindy. She was still alive.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?" Another person— who looked a lot more cynical than he does— frowned at him, "You were the only one who stayed silent before that hamster decided to talk to you."

"So what?" Brian glared at the guy.

"So what? I just don't fucking like you." The guy said as he scoffed at him.

"But Fran—" Mouse sa—

"Look, it doesn't matter anymore!" Donny interrupted him, "We're all fucking traumatized right now, right?! So Fran, shut the fuck up!"

"No, fuck this shit!!! I nearly died because of that three-eyed hamster!!!" Fran stood up and gave the redhead that was walking back here with a plastic bag, a middle finger.

He looked at Donny seriously, "Donny, you're a good guy. But I'm seriously not up for this kind of shit."

"The others were right. This is fucking suicide..." Fran left the campfire in a rocky fashion. He was as stressed as all of us.

"Fran..." Mouse mumbled.

—And now there were six.

"..." Fetter sat down quietly. He neither did or said anything else. His eyes were back to normal.

"You're Brian, aren't you?" The curled ball muttered.

Brian's facepalmed. This day couldn't get any worse, "Yeah, I am."

"Wait, you're saying he's that guy who was in a class with Kayl?" The guy next to Mouse said, "T—Then aren't you also that guy who said he was... Sam?"

Well, shit. Things were not looking good for Brian.

"So what if I am? It doesn't matter anymore does it?!" Brian yelled. Ever since he came here, he had spoken more words than he did in a week. It was exhausting.

"Wait, you're Brian?!" Mouse's eyes were wide open.

"Th— Why'd you have to lie, then!? Like, no cares if you're Brian!" The guy cried back at him. He stood up.

"Exactly! No cares if I'm Brian, or Sam, or Charlie, or all the other stupid names I give you!!!" Brian shouted at him, "It's just another name, isn't it!!! To all of you!!!"

"Oi oi oi!!! Just stop it you two! What's the matter with you!? We're all tired, right now!!!" Donny yelled at both of them. "Just lay it off, Nate! He just lost his entire class!!!"

Nate looked at Donny, then Brian, before he sat down again and sighed.

Brian glared at Cindy and she glanced back at him. She was startled to see his expression, and her eyes seemed to say, 'I didn't mean to offend you'. Though Brian kept scowling at her until she glooped back into a ball. He could hear her crying.

It was time to deal with her. All the boys in his class were killed. The girls, captured. The only ones who escaped were Brian, Kayl and a few other girls. But he didn't see Cindy with them.

"You weren't captured by those goblins, weren't you?" Brian asked her, "You escaped alone, didn't you?"

Cindy curled even further. She didn't answer his question.

"Did you? Hey, I'm asking you a questio—

"Just leave her alone, would you?!" Nate glared at him, "She's fucking scared!!!"

"WOULD YOU ALL JUST SHUT UP!!!" Fetter shouted all of a sudden. His whole body was tensed. He glared us all down until no one dared to speak. Fetter was a bit scary when he was angry.

Eventually, the fire was ready. Fetter took a huge forearm out of the plastic bag (It was Brian's). It was from the Boarmaster. It looks like he went back in there to get it...

"Isn't it... cannibalism?" Mouse spoke for us as he looked disgusted.

"That thing deserved it..." Fetter grumbled as he cut the forearm in half, "...Also, I hope you don't mind that I gave the other parts away."

There were all sorts of wrong when we saw that forearm (Wasn't Fetter the one who killed its family?). We gulped in unison as we thought that Fetter had lost it. But he seemed like he wasn't willing to let the others die in vain.

After he cooked it, we ate the arm without further questions. Cindy, Nate, & Mouse were crying when they did.

"Huh, It tastes like bacon."