If they all returned...

Is it really you?

A/N: Thanks to everybody who has read my story so far, it's great to know that even a few people are enjoying my story! Here's the second chapter for you all, because of how long it took me to get the first chapter out ^=^ schweizefille x

Mara's POV:

Well, he chose the game. Most people do. But, something feels strange. Something's off, not quite right. How unafraid he looks as I summon the Game Master. How he isn't going to back down and cower in fear in front of the monstrosity before him. As if he's seen worse than what he's facing now. I doubt it very much, but as a Messenger, unless you must perform a piercing, you do not know what they encountered in the past. It always is slightly unnerving, when you don't get to see what they've done, what they know and have experienced in life. And that's the opinion of all messengers, not just me. 

Noah/Keats' POV: 

Punk metal. That's what kind of music Sadie liked. Well, I should be calling her Plath, as BZRK is probably still around, and I can't risk disclosing her name to the public. Hello, I think this is the Game Master that the gi --woman was on about. Big face, ugly teeth, yep, all things I'be seen before. An oversized version of Burnofsky. Except - wait, people are running around inside his blood veins!? Okay, that's new, I'll admit, but still not gruesome. They're screaming. They look like --oh. They're all the people he's made a game for, right? Yep. They're tortured souls, lost within the mazes of his body. But still, nothing that I haven't really seen, either up in the macro or down there, down in the meat. Well, this shouldn't be as hard as I thought...

Messenger. A sound that could only have come from the 'gruesome' body. You have summoned me. Who are the players?

"This boy is the player." Her voice was surprisingly calm, for someone who radiated fear. I almost couldn't help but admire how she managed it, however, anyone with a trained eye could see she had done this many a time, as she braced herself both mentally and physically for the sight of the 'Game Master'. So he must change every time then? Different game, different master? Could be, but I'll find out soon enough. 

This is a game of five and one. You have one minute to find five people. They will not move. Your time starts on the count of one. 

They paused for what must have felt like an awfully long time, as anyone who has played a game before will know, merely to keep the players on their toes. That was fine with me. My reflexes are quick. I was already figuring where the five 'people' would be. In his body. He knew I was a gamer, possibly knew all about my history in BZRK, so it was like getting through an open firewall. Easy. 

ONE!

I ran (well, I didn't, my biots did), straight for the Game Master's foot. I was expecting what normally covers any body, skin. But instead of the endless hills and valleys I was hoping to see, there were numerous holes. I didn't think, as I dived through one of them, that I would see people pulling the Game Master's organs towards an endless, dark, gaping pit. Twenty seconds were gone already, as I crawled up the tube. I found myself in a hive of activity, with twenty seconds to spare. I knew it was tight. I knew I could grab five 'people', who were working inside what I assumed was the Game Master's brain,  supposedly creating newer, harder levels tailored for different people who had the misfortune of being trialed like me. Grab one, two, three, four, five! Squirming, they tried desperately to stay put, but I had the upper hand. You learn from experience to keep the element of surprise, even if they're expecting you. These spinners were mass produced, programmed the same way, as they hung limp very soon after they were away from their controls. Almost too soon. Finding another tube, this one labelled with bold capitals OPTIC NERVE, I ran out through the eye and onto the Game Master's hand, his fingers pressed onto the cornea for me to grab on, no different to anyone else's hand that I have had the pleasure (or misfortune) to be on. Setting them down on my foot, with just no more seconds to spare, the split timings had been timed to make it approaching the side of impossible that meant it wasn't worth playing. Many games are the same.