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I hate these trains. The warps did everything they do better. I hate the sound of the wheels screeching against the tracks. I hate the nauseating constants bumps and rocks of the cars. I hate how there is nothing but unyielding and unending ocean to look at. The worst of it though, is having to constantly be around other people. It's not impossible to get a whole car or even train to myself, but the fact it is possible yet so unlikely makes it all the more insulting. It's just rubbing salt in the wound.

Chatter comes from my side. The conversation isn't directed at me— you would have to be a moron to try and have a conversation with a guest— but the voices of my "teammates" make my fingers dig into my skin a little. Irritating. Why did I go first? The two followed after me like oblivious little ducklings. I wanted to get away from them, not pick the spot for all of us to sit! There's not even anybody else here.

I breathe. Maybe looking out the window will do some good. My hands release their hold on my arms, my nails leaving faint lines of irritation where they were. Barely even visible, they blended into the hairs of my arm almost seamlessly, barely even noticeable. Even if they stood out, the marks would fade eventually. They always do. The ocean is still, unmoving.

. . .

The noob and NPC talk so loud, like extremely loud. It doesn't help the noob is bouncing her leg and waving her arms around, resulting in a constant shake from the seats and a constant blur of yellow haunting my peripheral. The plane of water outside isn't captivating enough for this. It's a losing game trying to distract myself, but I keep my stare on the windows.

They hold a frequent rattle. These trains really feel like they aren't well built. The Sun is out of view, and clouds loom in the distance. The water is still. I love how much effort they put into the non-existent waves that stretch between the games. A still plane is very engaging.

I sigh. There's no use in hiding it. Either they catch the hint and shut their mouths or I continue to be irritated by things that really amount to nothing. They continue talking.

I bite my tongue and turn away from the window, electing to lean back further. My feet scrape against the carpeted floor, the back of my head taps the back of the seat, and my eyes close. I won't be able to sleep, but at least its less to process.

The irritation fails to leave me. I'm not surprised. I had an entire game plan to make this ride more bearable and it felt apart the moment I crossed onto the train first. I'm not doing anything with that dummy rig around. Not if he's from an Admin's game— especially not Telamon's. He's basically engineered to be a snitch, no matter how nice he plays.

My eyes twitch a little. I keep them shut. My nails once more find comfort in pressing harsher against my arms. My teeth follow by lightly sinking into my lip. I try to refocus, but instead all I can think about is that damn conversation next to me.

"—new about the Crossroads before anybody else? Is there anything else that you can share? Its been a minute since I've done any real PvP games— so I'll take anything." Her voice is drenched with anxiety. Small stutters and pauses plague her speech.

A small monotone hum is the dummy's response. "Not anything I can think of. You should be fine, it is just a fun casual capture the flag tournament after all!" If my eyes weren't closed, I'd roll them.

There's a small pause. For a brief, fleeting moment I can bask in nothing but the sound of the tracks. It sounds so much more peaceful when there isn't a constant yapping in my ear.

"…are you sure? This doesn't seem that casual. It's a tournament with an actual prize, right?" Her voice strains. She sounds like she's regretting every word that leaves her mouth, so why is she still talking?

"It can still be casual." No, it can't? "But if you want, I do have a few ideas on strategy!" His voice pitched up a little. For a dummy he sounds pretty excited. "We need someone to guard the flag— and not to brag— but I'm pretty good at defensive combat myself!" I wonder if every NPC created by Telamon carries his ego. His voice carries such a similar tone to the Admin's voice that it makes me tense.

A quiet jingle interrupts him. The two finally stop their conversation to let it finish. Now its the loudspeakers' turn. "Attention passengers! We will be arriving at The Crossroads, Server ID is 8-T, Loading Zone A. We politely ask that all passengers departing at this stop please gather their items now. Please also be mindful to keep your belongings on your person as you cross the Loading Zone."

"Aw, I was looking forward to talking about strategy," Rookie pouts.

Finally. This was a waste of an hour. A hiss can be heard through the window as the train slowly rolls to a stop. My hands instinctively hover to my ears. The warm fuzz of static answers my search, and my arms return to their usual crossed position. I have my earrings, I'm good to go. In the corner of my eye, the noob and dummy are checking their belongings as if they haven't been just sitting still and wasting air the entire time.

My feet thump against the carpet as I push myself onto my feet. I rest my hands in my pockets and approach the door. It only takes a few seconds before there's two sets of footsteps behind me. Yippee.

The doors hiss as they open. I step over the gap with ease. I spot the Loading Zone at the end of the hall as soon as I cross. The entire station's design points towards the door with the symbol of spawn etched into its design. On the wall next to it is a digital sign counting up, with the label "Server Life." With nowhere else to go, I head to the door. It creaks as I swing it open. I feel the other two's presence behind me.

I can't see anything through the doorway. They never show anything. It's just… nothing. Not darkness, not transparent, its nothing.

"Scared?"

My head whips around so fast I hear a faint crack. Nil is leaning to the side, peeking out from behind Rookie— who's sweating bullets. Looks like the walking template has some bite. He holds the same smug smile Telamon is infamous for. His eyes are taunting, begging for a fight. My nails dig into my palms and my hands coil into fists.

Say that again. I hold my tongue with immense difficulty. It should be easier. Guests can't speak after all.

His smile somehow stretches further, almost to his eyes. His eyes shut and he tilts his head to the side with a faint chuckle. "There is no need to be scared. It is just a Loading Zone. As the name implies, the textures have yet to load. They will only be visible once we step the—"

My body moves without me. My hand is covering his mouth, my thumb and nails digging into his cheeks to force him to shut up. Why am I touching him? Why did I do this? I force my expression into a glare— half to get the message across, half to prevent the cringe from showing on my face.

In the corner of my eye, I can spot Rookie looking as far away as possible. Huffing, I release my grip on Nil's face and wipe my hand on my pants leg. Gross.

I can't prove him right though. I'm not scared of it. I'm really not. I don't know why I hate going through them so much. Maybe my body just hates me. I keep my back turned to the door and take a step back. Faintly, I can feel the absence of air, of temperature, of everything against my back. My eyes don't leave Nil's. He doesn't blink.

"It is okay to be afraid. Not to imply that you are."

My eyes narrow. I don't care if it censors, as my heel leaves the ground to cross, I can't help but flip him off.

The moment my heel touches the ground, I am on the other side.

I am now staring at a closed door that's carved with the symbol of spawn. A soft breeze is now brushing against my skin. Behind the door, instead of the station's wall, I can see the Crossroads. Each corner holds a completely different style of scenery: a mountain, a fort, and a playground. I'm standing in the shade now. My feet sit atop of the very same symbol that I'm still staring at.

I'm still not used to it.

A held breath releases, and I step to the side.

The dummy and noob spawn in after. Rookie first, then Nil.

They both take a moment, Nil blinking a few times and stumbling, while Rookie merely stands still and opens her inventory. I can't peak into it, but she starts grinning. Weird. I look back at Nil. I can't prevent the smile that pulls on my face. He's still stumbling, but he finally manages to catch himself and still his flailing movements.

The moment he locks eyes with me, I silently mouth his words back at him. "Scared?"

He doesn't respond for a moment. As I glare, I can't help but notice that his crimson eyes actually glow slightly in the shade. Creepy.

His resting smile finds its way back home on his face. "Nope! I am not used to it. This is my first game outside of Sword Fight on the Heights, and that was my second ever Loading Zone."

I frown.

Rookie lights up. "Really?" Her voice pitches up. Please no. "You're not screwing with us?"

"I am not! I have never had a reason to leave s—"

No. No, no, no. I am going to blow up the Imagination Core. I turn around and walk away. I am not listening to more conversations, I can not take it. Being stuck with a noob and dummy for teammates is bad enough, they don't have to mock me on top it! I don't even want to play in this stupid tournament anyway. What's there to even celebrate? Trying to climb to the bare minimum?

My feet stomp against the ground. I can feel my nails dig into my palms, my teeth grinding against one another, and I can even hear the seething through my every breath.

"Oh— going for the flag already?" The noob's voice stammers behind me. "The game hasn't even started—"

"It has started! There is at least one player on each team. We are red with three players. Blue is in with three as well. The game has begun."

I roll my eyes. Common sense, and yet the noob stutters in confusion. "What—? There's no intermission, no timer?"

"No!"

I continue further away, I give her a thumbs up. They can believe whatever they want to, but I'm not hear to play Telamon's game.

The map isn't huge. I know it quite well. I know all the flag spawns, the enemy spawns. I have the great gift of being able to communicate absolutely none of it in front of Telamon's rat. I continue through the mountains, following a twisting but unruly edge. I've walked this path dozens of times before, I've done this in dozens of games. I just need to find a secluded spot. I move slow to prevent myself from slipping.

As I cross the uneven turf, I look to the other side. They should've spawned in the playground, and sure enough I can see two distant figures on the playground. They appear to be talking.

…if Nil and Rookie are actually serious about competing they might have a shot. The competition is two default avatars: an acorn and a bacon. I don't see their third, but in a 3v3, one person can only carry two brand new players so far.

My pace slows as I near the end of the rocky path. There's an actual chance of winning here.

I stop.

I'm not here to play the game. It'd just be indulging the Admins. My head points forward, and I continue on. I crouch to lower myself and get ready to drop myself behind the fort's walls. The stone is cool beneath my hands. I push off, landing with a soft thud. I look around again. The mountains cover Nil and Rookie's view of me, and there's nobody else in sight. I finally found it. Now they can play their game, and I can play my own.

It's not Capture the Flag. It's not a Brick Battle. It's my own creation, where I've made all the rules, and I'm the only player. I walk to the mountainside that the fort is built into, spinning around and leaning my back onto it. It isn't exactly comfortable. It's uneven, coarse, and digging into my skin a bit, but what's a little discomfort? Following the old routine, I tap my right earring. Once, twice…

A warm building static follows each tap, growing stronger with each consecutive touch. One last press of the star earrings and I can feel it: a tiny, but sharp origin point attached my hand. Whatever tension that's been haunting me since that train ride begins to fade at the slight prickly feeling in my hand. I drop my arm loosely, and I'm ready to finally start my own damn game. All I need? One flick of the wri—

. . !

I can't feel the ground— my feet just kicked off of it?!

Everything is now spinning. My head's going with it. The world's upside down— an unending spiral and blur of colors attacking my senses. My fingers slip as my arms shoot out. I need to grab something. Where's the ground?! No, wait— the origin! Shit! That slight poking against my skin is now absent. I can't lose it. My head whips around, my neck aching, the world blurs further, but I see it—! A single red pixel descending like an ember to the grass.

My hand flies for it.

My fingers shut. My hands clasped, there's a slight stinging sensation coming from my hand. The origin's corners are digging into my hand. A sigh of relief escapes me. Okay. Time to refocus my attention: What the hell just happened?

Everything is still spinning. My heart is running a goddamn race in my chest, my stomach is twisting, but I can see a dim glow of a blue frame surrounding me. Lua.

I growl in frustration. Of course some bastard had the same idea as me. They flipped me upside down— cheap shot— but where are they?

Humming. I can hear humming.

Then a heavy thud, coming from behind where I was just facing moments ago. I crane my head back, a hiss slipping through my teeth. My neck stings. It takes me a minute to make sense of what I'm looking at: Two blocks of fabric that looks ripped straight from an arcade carpet. They shift in place— legs, they're legs. Behind them is another weird shape, and as the person moves I realize its a tail dragging behind. Bizarre avatar choice for an exploiter— who themes after a doll?

"Looks like I'm on a lucky streak today!" She barks out a laugh, and my face twists at her voice. There's such a strong rasp to it, the only way I can even describe it as husky with an undertone of getting over a cold. "I'm gonna be honest— I was starting to think you guests were just a ROBLOXian myth, but wow. You're a rare bird, ain't 'cha?"

I bite my tongue as I get pushed back, still suspended in the damn air and upside down— I get a proper view of the third teammate. She's large— tall, wide, and built like a boulder, despite the soft patchwork skin. Zippers and seams run across her in a dizzying pattern, with clashing fabrics, and it looks like she's a rare fan of the diamond head. My eyes suddenly get drawn to a sharp badge that is glinting in the sunlight— and my eyes widen.

A double starred badge sits on her shoulder. A bright, obnoxious magenta with a glitter coat that looks like stars.

I can't help myself. "Aw, not a single guest in that cult?"

She blinks, eyes blown wide. Then her eyes roll as her fabric wrinkles, face resting in a frown. She huffs as she raises her hand, and a program's panel— one I don't recognize— flickers in front of her hand. Maybe some sort of console? "Aw, boo. You went and got my hopes up. Thought we'd actually get to see somethin' special on our big day out." I can't tell if she's being sarcastic or if she's genuinely disappointed.

She presses something on the panel and whatever command she was using to hold me up vanishes. Gravity takes me. My head smashes against the stone— spots appear in my vision and I sink my teeth into my lip to prevent any noise. Instead, only a deep groan choked out as the rest of my body hits the ground. Everything feels like it's getting crushed. I stagger for a moment, stuck trying to reorient myself. I shakily try to roll onto my stomach— my head feels like its splitting apart— all I can taste is iron.

Awful, rasping laughter rings through the air. Dust etches into my nails as I claw my fingers into the ground. A growl passes through gritted teeth. I finally manage to pull myself back on my feet. Bastard— is the only word in my mind. I still feel the corners of the origin cutting into my palm. Crimson drips through my balled fist. I loosen my grip. She's still laughing.

"You found one," I pause to spit some of that leftover blood out of my mouth. Gross.

"Oh?" The ragdoll lulls her head over. The panel is still hovering at her fingertips. I begin to roll the origin between my index and middle finger. "Pretty chatty for a guest," she continues.

My eyes narrow. I flick my wrist, and the origin expands into a whole GUI panel. Once more, her eyes widen.

Her fingers stretch towards the panel. I've already pressed mine. The ground beneath me feels cold through my shoes. I can feel the warm sense of static hugging me as the cosmetic adjustments appear too, but I'm not focusing on that. My legs lower, and I kick as hard as I can off the ground.

She takes a step back— the small beep signifies I need to move— I dig one heel into the ground and kick with my other leg, changing my course to the side and successfully juking out a brick that flies through where I just was. The false wheels on my shoes scream against the ground— one quick adjustment of my course— I rear my arm back and my elbow collides into her stomach.

I hear her gasp in what's hopefully pain, but I need distance. The wheels jab into the ground and I jump forward to quickly turn around. I can still hear her groaning. I only turn around when it's faint.

She's bent over, one hand on her knee, the other against where I struck her. She hacks like a cat with a hairball, before wiping her mouth of any saliva. "Ice physics?" Every word escapes as a wheeze. "Really?"

"You wanted a guest. You got one." A sneer finds its way on my face.

She growls. It's deep, and are the seams on her face moving…? It has to be a trick of the light— I blink and it's back to normal. Her console flickers back to life. Fury is etched into her every stitch.

She looks back at the panel and I kick off. The brief wind feels exhilarating, but I have to focus— she's typing something, my breath hitches. What's her next move? The text is too damn small—

Thin blurs of blue appear in my peripheral. I speed up— feet slamming against the ground for each push— scratching marks into the rock before I dig my heel into the ground and leap at her.

"Wh— get OFF—" the console beeps as the command is inputted.

I'm already grabbing onto that scrap jacket, but I make the mistake of blinking.

We're falling. We're falling? Wind is roaring in my ears— my hands release the ragdoll as she shouts. Crap— we're high up, we are so high up. A familiar throbbing is screaming in my head. I won't let that mistake happen again. I crane my head towards the cultist. That damn console is back up, she's already typing in a function.

My foot swings at her hand, heel striking her with enough force that pain bursts from my foot. I wince, but I can't slow. Flick of the wrist, there's the panel, gravity, where's the gravity function? The ground is so close—

I put in a random decimal into the gravity, and submit.

The wind is quieter, the world around me slows. I can breathe. No more fall damage.

Pain bursts from my waist. I shout, my eyes strain. They feel damp. The wind is roaring once more. Something is strangling my ankle. I glance and damn it, it's her tail— she's taking me down with her! My teeth are grinding are against each other trying to suppress anymore noise. I reach out my hand, the GUI, I just have to reach it!

A crash.

We meet the ground.

There's a familiar darkness.

I'm gasping. My body is screaming, begging for something I can't give it. My eyes are squeezed shut, why are they closed? I can hear a croak next to me.

I can't lose.

I open my eyes, the sunlight tempts me to close them once more, it hurts. Resist it. I force them open, head splitting from the lights intrusion, but I have to get up I have to—

I scream.

A guest shouldn't scream.

But I wail. My wrist crumbles as what feels like a giant rock begins to grind it into dust. My eyes adjust to the light and I see that ragdoll, crushing my hand with hers. I kick. I kick and kick and flail, not out of defense, but because it just hurts so damn much— that scream tearing out of my throat dissolves into a wheeze as she pulls herself up and begins to sit over me.

I can't breathe. I can't move. I can't lose, I didn't even get to play—

My feet leave scars scratched into the ground. My arms pull against their sockets for a desperate escape. She leans close. I can feel the warmth of her breath, I rear my head back. I'm not going out like this.

"I'm not going to let some cheap replacement cost us this game—" her voice is low.

I feel my expression crumble as the seams start to split. The diamond unfolds into four separate parts, revealing a hidden maw of teeth.

I can't help myself.

I look away.

I can't look. I cant force myself to. It's gross. It makes my skin crawl. I don't want to think about how much it'll hurt.

A glint of red catches my attention. Please. Please distract me. I glance over, desperate for anything. Please be the origin, or a fire, I'll take anything.

My eyes fall onto something much, much worse.

A dummy rig standing atop the castle wall. Crimson eyes are staring at me. They hold a soft glow. For a moment, the pain takes a backseat. All I feel is the warm static of my still-active exploits surrounding me.

"####."