1 The Game Starts Now

Few things on earth are as unsettling as a dark room filled with laughter.

A chilly laugh that echoed and bounced around the room until it was the only thing heard. In the shadow of that laughter, lingering in the depths was a muffled whisper. The words it brought forth were inaudible. Merely the remnants of slurred speech that made drunken rambles sound sane.

"...ngh...!"

In the absence of light and vision, other senses can feel heightened. It can be as though the body compensates for the lack of sight as a survival instinct.

That sensation can be too much.

Tightness around the throat - being squeezed so tightly that every breath feels shorter than the last. Struggling to breathe, trying desperately to escape as that tiredness - the all-consuming feeling of the body shutting down because of the lack of airflow.

The air smelt sweet but somehow artificial. As though someone mixed methanol and honey, wearing it as a perfume. There were only subtle wafts of it in the air, though - a contrasting scent to the putrid taste of iron that clung desperately to the tongue.

Yuck, how repulsive.

"...ungh..."

It churned the stomach in ways grotesque but familiar, bringing with it an aggressive rush - a toe-curling urge to release its contents and another struggle to keep them in. That was a fight for another day. A match won by someone with self-control or something of that sort. Instead, all that was was the sweet-release of that rush. Nirvana, the ultimate state of being and it's accompanied bliss.

Pitiful must it be to achieve satisfaction, only to have it ripped away by a hot flash. A feeling so all-consuming that the blood burns, at least it feels like it does, that scalding feeling travelling down slowly as if to tease. In the shadow of that flash, needles pierce through the skin at inhumane speeds. One by one, never to puncture the same spot again. An intolerable but remarkable feat, but it leaves with it a desire to never experience it again.

A desire to sleep and never wake up, should the scalding heat and needles stop. To sink into the pits of this dark room, in this dark abyss and never feeling again.

(You should be more careful.)

"...ngh...."

(There's no place in this world for a canary that can't sing.)

"...!"

Eyes shot open blurred as the body drenched itself in a cold sweat. An erratic heartbeat, one so loud it echoed in the ears as lungs expanded with every deep breath. One in, two out, one in, two out - a repetitive rhythm but it seemed to calm the heart - and brought with it a sense of stability. Slender fingers that gripped the nylon fabric between them too tensely finally begun to relax with every stable breath. And as if on cue, the blurry room became much clearer.

The world was no longer that dark, unfeeling place. It was a dark room with blinds that struggled to keep the night lights at bay.

"Where..? What am..?"

It was a quiet voice that barely managed to scrape together the sounds of a coherent sentence. A delicate tone, a melody that would seem more pleasing were it not for the dryness and scratchiness of the throat it came.

Slowly rising upwards, fingers released from the sheets as they wandered to the face instead. A long, drawn-out sigh escaping the lips as the remnants of a dull pain lingers in the head. The soft sounds from beyond the room were the only things keeping it that way. The muffled music harmonized with the vibrating walls. It created a symphony only to rivalled by distant car horns.

The lights that seeped through the window graciously glimmered on the blank screen of the tv, reflecting throughout the space.

That voice spoke again, this time it was coherent, "Where am I? What- How did I get here? What did I- ngh!"

Dull pains turn sharp, and the body quivers. The chest felt tight, heartbeat quickening, as once again, there was a struggle to breathe. Deep breaths, deep breaths - a mantra repeated for the sole purpose of calming oneself, achieved, but it left a bitter taste in the mouth.

It was as though it was a warning.

"It hurts when I try to remember anything," the voice groaned, "This going to be a pain in the ass, isn't it?"

Another sigh of frustration and a bitten bottom lip, combing fingers through silky hair.

"Maybe if I wash up I'll feel better."

Moving out of bed slowly, inch by inch, at a pace that rivalled a tortoise's exceptional speed - to be greeted by the chill of a fluffy rug beneath one's feet. It required far too much energy to get up and leave the bed. Energy reserves were running on bare fumes at the moment - no wonder attempts to muster remaining strength met with failure.

Those slender, dainty arms are ill-designed for moments like these yet somehow, their owner vigors. Off the bed but not quite standing firmly on cold feet, there was an awkward stagger and pause before balance returned. A sigh of relief and slender arms reached out to grab the blinds that covered moonlight desperately trying to illuminate the dim room.

"Where am I...?"

A sudden squeak as the bright lights outside proved too much for their recently returned vision, and the body flinches in response. Eyes slowly opening once more, readied to face whatever lay beyond that glass. Slowly, slowly until finally - they opened and went wide with amazement.

"It's beautiful."

Underneath a starless void was a sea of bright lights cluttering the horizon, drawing a line so distinctive they seemed ethereal. The sea of lights flickered like stars, all the same, alluring the eyes with as if to entice. Sea of lights that lined the horizon faded as they grew closer, revealing a concrete jungle. There was no escape in sight, merely building after building. A world so condensed it felt claustrophobic yet at the same time, distant.

And in the midst of it all, a beacon. A glowing tower that commanded attention overall for it was the most magnificent structure as far as the eyes could see.

The world outside was particularly beautiful, and she was living in that world.

"This is...me? I am me?"

The haziest rendition of a reflection graced the mirror, and with it, she caught glimpses of herself. Not particularly attractive, not particularly unsightly. A delicate framed girl of average height with thin eyebrows, fair skin, straight brown hair and brown eyes. No distinctive features, no distinctive markings. The clothes she was wearing - a blue hoodie and her undergarments - didn't give many ideas either.

Almost as though she was a blank slate for remodelling.

Nothing to help her remember who she was.

"Not the most unique individual, am I?" she chuckled as she scratched her head, "Oh well. I should leave the blinds open until I find a light switch and a change of clothes. And maybe take a bath? Where's the bathroom..."

Pulling away from the window, she obliviously turned to face the room, but there was a queasy feeling in her stomach. A sense of unease, guilt, that built up little by little. There was something there she shouldn't see, the feeling told her. It was nauseating. It would maker her sick. It was a sight so unsightly that it bordered on repulsive.

And then finally her unsuspecting gaze met it.

Slumped underneath the television was a man in a black suit. Strawberry-blonde hair with dark fuzz clinging onto his sunkissed face, his eyes were closed. Clutched between his stained fingertips was a silver gun, four bullets glistening on the fabric of his pants. He wore no shoes, that's why she could see his feet. His toes must have broke. Nothing else could explain why the right pinkie toe swapped places with his fourth. And why on the left, he lacked a toe and toenails on three out of four.

Enclosed by bottles of whiskey and vodka, he stayed there.

She paused immediately, eyes widening, "He-who is...ngh?!"

The repulsive feeling in her stomach overflowed, once more her head began to ache. The room was spinning moreover she heard her heart beating in her ears. Her head was splitting open, nothing else explained the sharp pain stabbing into her over and over. She stifled the scream by biting her sleeve as it clawed up her throat.

In the orchestra of cars and music, such a sound would be too out of place.

(You should be more careful.)

A blurry vision of muddled colours and voices, something she couldn't quite make out, but it was becoming more distinct. The sound of cutlery as it hit wears mixed with soft jazz and laughter. A platter of cheese, some salty others tart, mixing with an aged wine clung to her tastebuds. The cooling touch of his fingertips, dancing along her skin. Their lips met for a brief moment, a heated moment, but it was a mere tease. They both wanted it, but there's a fleeting moment.

A risk that neither could afford to take.

(You should be more careful.)

His hoarse voice warned her, but it was a warning she knew all too well.

(I don't want to do something we'll both regret. I love you too much for that.)

As quickly as she slipped into that world, it viciously pulled her out. It left her lying down on the floor, gasping for air, trying to find some sort of normalcy in this. The pain was gone, but it left a hole in its place. An empty feeling where she felt emotions should be, but there was nothing more than a little confusion at best.

"Me?" she pondered as she curled into the fetal position, "Makes sense if it's my memories. The guy I was talking to...what's his name? And more important, what's mine?"

[Bzzt! Bzzt!]

Just as she was about to sulk, a buzzing sound caught her attention. It came from under the bed, a glowing blue light flashed briefly and then vanished. Eyebrows furrowed, she reached underneath to grab the source. Attempting to ignore the dust bunnies and whatever else might be underneath there, she grasped the thin rectangular device and pulled it out.

A thin black box with a glass screen, this was a phone but to whom did it belong? It sat in the palm of her hand nicely, not too small but not too big. It was the right size to be hers, maybe it was? There was only one button on the entire device, a small one on the right side.

She bit her thumb, "It's the only lead I have, so I might as well - right?"

She pressed the button, and once more, the screen lit up. There were several notifications. Over a hundred calls, several thousand messages stood out alongside notifications from apps she assumed were inside the phone. As she swiped them away, the background image became more visible. It was of a small yellow bird in a golden cage.

"Shelby?" she said automatically, "Don't I have a bird named Shelby?"

Absentmindedly, her finger reached out to stroke the bird but instead, she unlocked the phone. The home-screen was blank, minus the wallpaper.

The wallpaper was a girl walking by a fountain, drinking from a disposable coffee cup Dressed warmly in a sweater-dress, leggings, boots and scarf, red leaves fluttered around her. Her brown hair braided neatly onto her shoulders, gaze falling as a subtle smile lined her lips. It brought with it the remnants of spice to her tongue and the crisp air to her skin.

"Ah, it opened..." She muttered, "Wait, this girl and I look similar. Could she possibly be...?"

A new notification.

[You have 1 New Voicemail.]

It puzzled her, voicemail felt like a distant memory. Something that was long abolished or at the very least rarely used. Through sheer muscle memory alone, she navigated her way around the phone and found a suitable application. Once inside, she began to listen to the voicemail.

[Maggie? It's me, Jason.]

[I know we ended things pretty badly at Kaidan's place but I-]

[Everyone's worried, okay? You don't disappear like this, or at least, you didn't do it before. No one's seen you and the professors are noticing. It's been a week, Maggie. Please, forgive me and come home.]

The sounds were distorted and muffled so she couldn't hear the current part, but the previous words made her feel anxious? There was genuine concern in his voice, so why?

[I know...I know we ended things on a terrible note but fuck it, I just need to know you're okay? Call me, please? Whenever you get the chance?]

[I love you.]

There was a click signalling the end of the voicemail.

'Maggie' still had nothing to say. Nothing about her circumstance felt real, it felt like a poorly composed parody, and she wanted desperately to wake up. Nothing about this was real. Nothing about this could be real.

"Wake me up from this nightmare," She grumbled, "Ah, wait, this wasn't here before?"

In the corner of her eye, on the previously blank home-screen, a new application settled in. As cliched as it seemed, the app called 'Oracle' had a crystal ball as its icon. Eyebrows gathered together in curiosity; she tapped on the symbol.

The screen turned black and then deep plum. The text that followed was in bright gold.

[The time is now 0000.]

[Initialization Complete.]

[ 25 Players have initialized.]

[Objectives set.]

[Map updated.]

[Sophos has bestowed upon Players his knowledge.]

[Player Abilities Updated.]

[It is now time to begin the Day of Reckoning.]

[Go forth, and deliver the oracle.]

The screen transitioned with a white mist, once gone - it revealed a profile. Maggie's eyes widened in confused surprise. The face in the left corner of the screen looked eerily identical to her own. She took a closer look at the profile.

[Player Name: Margaret "Maggie" Hopkinson]

[Age 21] [Sex: F] [DOB: 05062098]

[Player ID: CANARY] [Tarot ID: 01FOOL]

[Player Ability: CONTROL LVL1 ]

[Player Rank: 03/25]

[Oracle Objective: Survive Reckoning #1].