Survival Of The Fittest


Don't expect me to take you with me when I go to s
Sep 15, 2004
Survival Of The Fittest
Craig McQuinn​


I walk a lonely road
The only one I that have ever known
Don't know were it goes
But its home to me and I walk alone

It had happened so quickly.
Nazi soldiers had marched into the small Polish village, firing their guns into the night and burning down buildings. It took them a single night to capture all the Polish-Jews living in the small village, and the next day they separated them. 12 boys were pulled out of a crowd, and were escorted off to a truck. Their families cried out for them, but were merely beaten back by the soldiers.
The boys wiped the tears out of their eyes as the truck pulled out of the village, unaware of the chance that they would ever see their families again.

The truck had stopped at a small abandoned prison, which the Nazi's must have been using as a camp. As soon as the truck was brought to a halt, soldiers opened the back and pulled the boys out. The dirt ground was covered in dust; the chilly wind blew it into their eyes. They were pushed into a small room, which looked like it had once been used as a shower. The soldiers left, apart from one man. He was the leader. He was dressed in the typical Nazi uniform, complete with the Swastika on his jacket. His eyes were cold, and his moustache sat on top of a straight line which was supposedly a smile.
"You are about to participate in a game," He stated with a raspy voice. His face was devoid of any human expression. "This game will require strength, speed, smarts and skills. To play this game, you need to survive." He paused, presumably for effect. The boys stood still, too scared to do anything.
"You are in an abandoned prison, many miles away from the nearest town. Do not try to escape. You will be killed instantly. When the game has begun, you are free to go anywhere in the camp. I will return in 24 hours time, and whomever is left will be free to go, their family will not be gassed and their life will be restored." The leader explained.
"Whomever is left?" One of the boys suddenly spoke up.
"Yes, the aim of the game is to make sure you are the last one standing. You will find various weapons around the camp, and you will kill your opponents with these weapons. If no one is dead by the time I get back, then my soldiers will kill you anyway."
The boys were speechless and scared. They were all sweating, from the youngest to the oldest, and knew that they had to kill if they wanted to ever see their family again.
"Now… Take off your clothes." The man demanded, without averting his eyes. The boys quickly obeyed, and were stripped naked in less than a minute.
"Good. The game will start once you all wake up in around an hour. I'll see you in 24 hours after that." He left the room, making sure to lock the heavy door behind him.
Before the boys could act, a green gas began to spray through the vents. It quickly filled the room, and the boys began to cough. It wasn't lethal, but it was powerful enough to put them to sleep. After a few minutes, the last of the 12 boys dropped to his feet, and the game had begun.

Ben awoke with a start. He was lying on the ground, covered in dust. He jumped to his feet, and brushed off the dirt. How long had he been out? He wondered what the time was and looked at his watch. It was no longer there.
"Great." He mumbled. The soldiers must have taken it. He realised he was no longer in his normal clothes either. The soldiers must have dressed him again. He presumed all the boys were wearing the same uniform, which was a dull grey colour. He was in some kind of barn, and made his way to the entrance. The Nazi's had taken them in the morning, and had driven for about an hour until they had reached the camp. It had been another hour since he had been gassed, so it was probably around midday. The sun was hidden behind some clouds.
He didn't want to kill. There had to be some other way around it. He wanted to see his family again. He had to escape, or think of some way out. Ben was fourteen, reasonably smart and quite athletic. He could get out of this place and rescue his family, if he could figure out a plan. And what if the soldiers caught him trying to escape? They would shoot him dead on the spot. He needed a weapon for protection. He wouldn't kill anybody, he would just hold onto it. To make him feel safe.
He examined the barn walls. Immediately, he spotted a case on a shelf. Sure enough, when Ben opened the case, a small handgun fell out. It had a lot of ammo, which he placed in his pocket. The gun was already loaded, and he gripped it with his clammy hands. If he could find his friend, Daniel, they could work together to escape. And so, Ben left the barn carefully and safely, and began looking for Daniel.

David paced the house frantically. He didn't know what to do. If he left the house, he was sure to be killed by one of the other boys. They would want to survive, and they would kill if they needed to. But David couldn't. David couldn't even kill a fly. He knew he would never see his family again. But there was one way…
He quickly got to work. He rummaged through draws in a cupboard until he found some rope. There was a big chandelier over the table; it would be perfect. He threw the rope towards the chandelier and missed. He tried again and got the same result. On his third attempt, David managed to hook the chandelier and the rope stayed firm. He then climbed onto the table and grabbed the other end. He tied it into a noose, which he placed softly around his neck. He prayed quickly, made sure the rope was still attached to the chandelier and stepped off the side of the table. He hung himself, and knowing his parents were going to die in the camps, he hoped to see them in Heaven.
The death camp David's family were in was liberated in 1945. They managed to survive for around ten years after that.

Ethan observed the camp from his fortress. It was brilliant. He had an advantage in this crazy game already. He had woken up inside of this armoured base, and stood face-to-face with a mounted machine gun. If anyone approached, he could just mow them down. Ethan wasn't an evil boy. But he wanted to win. And he would do what he could to win. He had discovered how the machine gun worked, but hadn't tested it yet. It was while he was basking in his newfound glory that the boy sneaked up on him.

Caleb stayed still. He had been looking for his twin brother, and had stopped to explore this little trench. He had nearly walked into Ethan, who was busy with the machine gun. Caleb was only eleven years old, and quite gullible. He decided to speak up. What harm could it do?
"Hello?" He nervously whimpered. Ethan' face spun around and a angry look crept across his face.
"What are you doing here?! Don't you know I can kill you?!" He shouted, thrusting his finger at Caleb and pointing at him.
"Please, you have to help me find my brother..."
"What?! We're supposed to kill each other! And you want help?!"
"Help me find my brother, and I'll help you win the game… I just want my brother…" Caleb mumbled. Ethan thought for a moment. This could be another advantage. He could use Caleb as a scout or a shield. Then when they were the last two left, all he would have to do was blow off his head. Yes, he would help Caleb… For now.
"I'll help you find your brother… Later. Right now, you obey my commands. You do what I tell you." Ethan demanded.
"Thank you." Caleb replied. His act had payed off. He had secured a place with one of the older boys, who would protect him. Though, Caleb knew if it came down to him and Ethan, that Ethan would simply kill him. Ethan doesn't know I have a gun though, Caleb thought. He quickly checked to see if the pistol was hidden in his pants. I'll find Peter and we'll wait for Ethan to kill everyone. Then I'll shoot him and we'll have won the game, thought Caleb. Yes, his plan would work… For now.

Jake looked upon his prize. It was a motorbike, what it was doing out here in the middle of nowhere, he did not know. What he did know was that it was his ticket out of here. He brushed back his long brown hair, and grabbed the keys which he had found nearby. He was seventeen, and the oldest of the 12 boys that had been taken. He knew how to drive, and he could drive well. He put the keys into the ignition, and hopped on. The motorbike immediately sprung to life. He was ready. He roared out of the garage and onto the dirty path, totally unaware he was being watched.

Jadon had found the Uzi already loaded and ready to fire. All he had to do was pull the trigger. It was so simple. His short black hair was pointed up, and his blue eyes had an icy stare. How dare these arseholes mistake him for being a dirty Jew? His father had fled from Japan when he was a teenager, and fell in love with a Norwegian woman. They had moved to Poland and had a baby boy, Jadon.
He watched as a vehicle began approaching at high speeds. It was a motorbike, driven by the oldest of the boys. Jadon raised the Uzi. He fired. Bullets sprayed out in the direction of the vehicle. They hit their target. The bike was smashed, and Jake was sent flying. He hit the ground hard and the dust blew up around him. Jadon marched forward evilly. He would win this game. Then, when the soldiers came to pick him up, he would kill them as well.

Jake couldn't move. One of the younger boys had fired at him. People were actually trying to kill each other. How could they? He watched as the boy approached slowly, his weapon in his hands. Great, he thought. I am going to be killed by a fourteen year old. The boy raised the Uzi and pointed at Jake's head. He didn't have time to say anything. Jadon pulled the trigger again, sending bullets flying into Jake's head. He was killed instantly. Jadon summoned up a decent amount of saliva and spat on Jake's lifeless body. One down, he thought. Ten more to go.

Someone was coming. Amos could hear the boy's steps. He huddled back against the wall of the shed. He clutched a katana – a samurai sword. He eyed the shed door. There was only one entrance and one exit. Whomever was coming had to come through there. He stopped breathing. He had to be quiet. He hoped the boy would go past. But he didn't.

Jadon kicked the door to the shed down. Someone was inside, someone he could kill. He entered the tiny shed, and noticed the twelve year old boy called Amos. He clutched a katana, but it was still in a sheath.
"Please don't hurt me!" Amos pleaded as he sprung to his feet. Jadon simply started back.
"Here… Have my sword. You're Japanese so you'll be able to use it good!" Amos announced, handing over the katana to Jadon. Jadon grabbed the sword, and placed it in his left hand. Amos then realised what he had done.
"Oh, please, I'm not trying to be racist or anything… Please, don't hurt me…" Tears began to pour down his face. He moaned.
"Shut up." Jadon grunted. He then pulled the trigger to the Uzi and splattered Amos' blood all over the tin shed. He tied the sheath to his side, so he could use it when ready to. He loaded the Uzi with another cartridge, and then pushed Amos' body off of what it was lying on. There was a small box, filled with four small metallic discs. Jadon slung the Uzi over his shoulder and picked the box up. He then left the shed to commence with the game.

Ben strolled along carefully. He had heard rapid gunshots. Someone was killing the others. He had to find Daniel quickly. They had to survive. He noticed a garage with a jeep in it a few metres away. He had been walking for the last hour; he could do with a rest. He sneaked around to the back of the garage and found a broken window. He climbed in and came face-to-face with a gun barrel.
"Daniel!" Ben shouted as he threw his gun to the ground and pushed Daniel's rifle out of the way. He hugged Daniel, until Daniel pushed him off. Daniel was quite short, round and fat. He had found a rifle.
"It's not the time for that…" Daniel whispered. "Someone's killing the others. I want to survive."
"Then let's go!" Ben declared.
"Be quiet. They'll hear you…" Daniel looked from side-to-side, being paranoid. He suddenly spun around and pointed the rifle at Ben.
"Hey…" Ben mumbled, slowly growing nervous. Would his best friend really shoot him?
"I'm sorry." Daniel spun the rifle around and smacked Ben in the face with the butt. Ben fell to the ground unconscious. Daniel grabbed a nearby crate, and placed it over Ben.
"I'll come back when it's safe…" Daniel whispered as he ran towards the jeep.

Caleb cupped his eyes. He was sure he could see someone in the distance, walking towards them.
"What is it?" Ethan grunted, pushing Caleb out of the way.
"I think there's someone coming…"
The two waiting a while, until they were sure someone was heading towards them. There was a tall boy with a bald head carrying a shotgun. He was around fifteen to sixteen years old, and was rapidly approaching.
"Do you think he's going to kill us?" Caleb asked, unsure.
"Of course he is! It's the aim of the game!"
"Then shoot him! Shoot him before he shoots us!" Caleb yelled, nudging Ethan.
"Get off!" Ethan pushed Caleb off of him, who flew into the wall. Sweat poured down Ethan's face. He had never killed someone before. Did he have the courage to do it now? The boy with the shotgun was getting closer and closer. He raised the shotgun and took aim. He fired. Ethan ducked, but the bullet was no where near him. This boy was obviously a bad shot. He kept firing. The gunshots echoed throughout the camp. Everyone would hear this. Ethan hoped it wouldn't attract more people. No, wait. He hoped it would. Then he could kill them and win the game.
Ethan shouted and grabbed the machine gun. He found the trigger and fired. Bullets flew out towards the boy with the shotgun, who despite being attacked kept moving forward, firing back when he could. Ethan moved the machine gun to the left and the bullets chopped through the boy's legs. He fell to the ground.
"Go and get his weapon! Quick!" Ethan shouted to Caleb, who obeyed his orders. He ran out towards the boy who was now lying on the ground, covered in blood, unaware that Ethan could shoot him at any time. However, Ethan simply grasped the machine gun, too happy to pry his hands off of it. He could do this. He could win this game.

Jadon pushed the Uzi barrel into the eight year old boy's back. The little boy was crying. Jadon watched as the tears rolled down his cheeks and landed in big sploshes on the ground. He prodded the boy in the back again. The little boy whimpered.
"Move forward." Jadon demanded. Jadon pushed and prodded the boy until they reached a small square. There was a small concrete circle, surrounded by a field of dirt. The little boy suddenly realised his tormentor had stopped following him.
"Keep moving or I'll shoot you in the back." Jadon warned. The little boy kept moving, slowly. He didn't want to die. Why was this happening? He stalled as he stepped on something metallic. He didn't know what it was, but he supposed it was something dangerous.
"Move!" Jadon shouted. The little boy didn't want to, but he didn't want to die. He stepped forward, shifting his weight from the metallic object to the dirt. There was an explosion. The boy's body was ripped apart, sending limbs into the air. Jadon was sprayed with blood, which he ignored. Good, he thought. The landmines were working well.

Daniel pulled out of the garage. He had never driven before, as he was only fourteen. Yet, it seemed pretty easy. He had found the keys to the big army jeep in the glove box, and had gone from there. I may be able to escape in this, he thought. It was pretty tough, and could probably stand the soldier's bullets. He just hoped they didn't have grenades.
An explosion shook the jeep.
"What the Hell!?" Daniel shouted, alarmed. He turned in the direction of the blast. He was right. Someone was playing the game. He saw a boy in the distance. Jadon. He was standing in the middle of a concrete circle, brandishing an Uzi. He fired random shots at the jeep, and the bullets sprang off the sides. Ha, Daniel thought. I'm invincible. Jadon fired again. This time, a bullet hit the tire. It began to deflate. Crap, I have to get rid of him before this jeep becomes unmoveable. Daniel sped up in the direction of Jadon.

"Keep coming, you fool…" Jadon whispered to himself. He grinned at Daniel and stayed where he was. If his plan worked, he would have gotten rid of another one of his opponents. The jeep was getting closer and closer. Now, Jadon thought.
Another explosion sounded. The jeep was blasted into the air. It had ran over one of the landmines. It twirled in the air, and hit the ground on its side. Another explosion. Jadon watched as one of the doors was blown off. The jeep scraped along the ground. Another explosion. The last landmine managed to blow the jeep in half, sending bits of metal everywhere. Jadon progressed forward, heading towards the remains of the jeep.

Daniel managed to crawl out of the smoking wreckage. He was covered in blood, and couldn't see out of one of his eyes. He had fallen into a trap. Damn, he thought. Why did I have to be so stupid? He looked at his left leg. There was no limb after the kneecap. He was dying. The worst thing was that he knew.
"You arsehole!" He managed to yell, as Jadon approached.
"Heh, I'm just trying to win. You were going to run me over." Jadon responded, still grinning. He raised the Uzi.
"I'm not all bad. I'm going to kill you quickly so you don't have to die slowly and painfully…" He fired. More blood squirted into the air. Another was dead. This game was too easy, thought Jadon.

Look who's alone now,
It's not me. It's not me.
Those three Wise Men,
They've got a semi by the sea.
Got to ask yourself the question,
Where are you now?

Caleb handed the shotgun over to Ethan. He felt its weight in his hands. It must have had a few shells left. Caleb looked uneasy as Ethan handled the shotgun. Suddenly, Ethan shoved the shotgun in Caleb's direction.
"Please… Don't kill me…" Caleb stammered.
"This is a question of trust," Ethan stated. "Do you have any other weapons I should know about?"
"No, as soon as I woke up I came across you. I didn't have time to get any weapons," Caleb lied. He knew very well he had a loaded pistol in the back of his pants.
"Good. I don't want you shooting me in the head when we're not looking. Considering we're partners and all…" Ethan smiled, and lowered the shotgun.
"Thanks." Caleb breathed a sigh of relief. How could he kill Ethan now? He would have to rethink his plan.

Bart played with the grenade in his hand. It was light. Lighter than he thought. Would he have to use it? He didn't want to kill anybody. But he wanted to see his family again. He wiped the sweat off his face. It was cold, but he was hot. Perhaps he still had the flu?
"Hand over the grenade." A voice demanded. Bart felt a gun barrel against the back of his head. He placed the grenade on the floor behind him.
"Good boy." The voice smirked. Bart didn't dare move. He could still feel the gun against his skull. A split second later, Bart's head exploded.

It had been a few hours since the game had begun. At least two hours since Ethan had killed the boy with the shotgun.
"What do you think those explosions were?" Caleb suddenly asked, waking Ethan from his short rest.
"I don't know. Bombs?"
"Maybe we should have explored more. We might have been able to find some grenades or something."
Grenades would be useful if the enemy needed to kill us while we stayed in this trench thing, Ethan thought. Little did he know that another boy thought the same thing.

Jadon watched the two boys. He had been on top of the barn for around an hour now, waiting for the boys to step out. The only way he could get them is if he used the valuable grenade, which he didn't want to yet. By his count, there were still around six to seven boys left, and the grenade might come in handy later on. But then there was the chance he could kill two birds with one stone…
"We might have been able to find some grenades or something." Jadon's head spun towards the bunker where the two boys were hiding. Grenades. This would be a perfect coincidence.
He pulled the pin out of the grenade and threw it.

A small green object bounced between Caleb's feet. Ethan immediately recognized it. He swore loudly, grabbed Caleb and leaped out of the bunker. It exploded. Crap, Ethan thought. Now we only have the shotgun. He quickly grabbed it and prepared for another attack. Bullets flew towards him, and a few hit him in the leg. He swore again, before firing a random shot in the direction the bullets had come from.

Jadon jumped off the roof, narrowly missing getting a hit from the shotgun. He landed on the hard, dry earth, and charged forward, firing his Uzi. He saw Ethan spin around, and fire. The two fired at each other, neither of them hitting anything. Jadon was only one metre away when the Uzi ran out of ammo. He swore in his mind. He dropped the Uzi. He had to stall Ethan. If he got close enough, he could use the katana.
Ethan raised the shotgun, and fired. Fortunately for Jadon, he too had ran out of ammo. Jadon grinned evilly.
Ethan turned towards Caleb, who was standing still from the shock. "Run!" He shouted and pushed Caleb to give him a head start.
"I have a gun! I can help you!" Caleb suddenly blurt out, but Ethan ignored him.
Caleb turned around and jogged as fast as he could.

Jadon pulled the katana from its sheath, and prepared to strike. Ethan had no visible weapons on him, so it should be an easy kill. Then Jadon would follow Caleb, eliminating the last of the boys along the way.
"I have to admit… You're good… Just not good enough…" Jadon laughed and then sprung forward. He thrust the katana towards Ethan's torso, who managed to dodge the sharp blade. He pulled a small knife out of nowhere and stabbed Jadon in the shoulder.
Jadon screamed. He hadn't been expecting that. He grabbed the knife's grip and ripped it out of his shoulder, throwing it into the bunker. Now, Ethan had no weapons.
Jadon spun, and managed to slice Ethan's chest with the katana. Ethan fell to his knees, the blood pouring down his body.
"You should no better than to deal with a samurai." Jadon laughed. He rested the tip of the blade on Ethan's neck before raising it above him. He then brought it down quick, and sliced off Ethan's head.
Caleb stood and watched in horror. How could someone kill someone like that? He fell to the ground, too tired to run.
Jadon cleaned the katana and then marched forward.

Caleb sat and watched as Jadon stood in front of him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stared into the murderer's eyes. They were a cold blue, and at this moment, Caleb knew he was doomed.
"You are a baby." Jadon stated. "I will kill you like a baby."
Caleb closed his eyes as Jadon raised the katana once again. In a split second, Caleb spun his hand around and pulled out the pistol. He fired three times. The first bullet hit Jadon in the arm. The second bullet hit him in the chest. The third bullet hit him in the shoulder, the same shoulder he had been stabbed in. He erupted in pain. He too, fell to his knees. Caleb stood up, triumphant.
"Kill me properly… You weak baby…" Jadon rasped.
Caleb brought the gun to Jadon's forehead. But he couldn't pull the trigger.
"You weak baby… You couldn't hurt a..." The rest of Jadon's sentence was covered up by the gunshot. Jadon was instantly silenced by the bullet protruding from his forehead. He fell to the side.
Caleb immediately dropped the gun and fainted.

Caleb awoke with a nightmare. He had been part of some weird game, where the Nazi's had forced 12 boys to kill each other. He then realized it wasn't a nightmare. It was real.
"You've been asleep for hours…" Someone said. Caleb looked up to see his twin brother, Peter, staring back at him.
"Peter!" Caleb shouted and the two hugged, and then Caleb flinched.
"I've been hiding in this house all day. You must have been hit by a bullet. I tried to bandage you up as best as I could, but I'm no doctor," Peter smiled. "So, what happened to you?"
Caleb recalled what had happened since he had woken up after he had been gassed. "Well, I awoke in a house where I found a pistol. I took the pistol and tried looking for you, but I came across an older boy called Ethan instead. The older boy promised he would help me find you if I helped him kill the others. A boy with a shotgun attacked us, but Ethan killed him with a machine gun. Later on, a crazy guy blew up our base with a grenade, and then fired at us with an Uzi. The boy killed Ethan with a big sword and then he came after me," Caleb paused. He didn't want to tell his brother he had killed somebody. "Luckily, Ethan must have shot him, because he died just before he was about to kill me."
"Wow. I presume that was the guy next to you. Did he have a pistol and a sword?" Peter asked.
"Um, yeah…" Caleb lied.
"Well, the important thing is, we're both safe… I think we're the last two left. Which means we're saved." Peter explained.
"Hopefully." Caleb replied.
For the next few hours, the two talked about happier times, ate some stale bread they had found and drank muddy water.
As the sky began to grow darker, they began to hear sounds of vehicles approaching. Had 24 hours passed already?
The two rushed out of the house, despite Caleb's pains and stopped as the soldiers emerged from the trucks. They surrounded the two boys, and through the crowd step the cause of this whole game, the man who did not have a name. The Gamemaster, Caleb thought.
"There are two of you," The Gamemaster muttered. "Are you the only ones left?"
"Yes sir, we think so." Peter answered. The Gamemaster paused for a moment, thinking.
"There can only be one winner."
"But… We're brothers! We are family!" Caleb shouted back. The soldiers all raised their guns and pointed them at the two brothers. The Gamemaster signaled and the soldiers lowered their guns.
"You are lucky we don't kill you now." The Gamemaster smiled, and reached into his coat. His hand emerged with a small knife, the kind Ethan had used to stab Jadon. He threw the knife at the ground, and it pierced the dirt, balanced between Caleb and Peter.
"The last one left standing wins the game."
The two brothers stared at each other. Did he really think they would kill each other?
"What are you waiting for?" The Gamemaster snarled.
Anger overcame the two brothers and they both charged forward. Peter grasped the knife blade but Caleb pushed him over. Caleb grabbed the knife and tackled Peter, accidentally stabbing Peter's throat with the knife. Blood sprayed out and into Caleb's face. Caleb's tears mixed with the blood, and it leaked down onto the ground, painting it a pinkish colour.
"Congratulations." The Gamemaster smiled.
Caleb spun around, a look of terrible evil on his face. "You bastard!" He shouted as he charged forward, imbedding the knife into the Gamemaster's stomach. The Gamemaster pushed Caleb off of him and smacked him in the face with the butt of his handgun. He pulled the knife out and dropped it. Soldiers grabbed Caleb's arms and forced him to his knees. The Gamemaster shoved the gun against Caleb's forehead, just like Caleb had done to Jadon. What goes around comes around, Caleb thought.
"Wrong move." The Gamemaster grinned and fired, sending a bullet straight through Caleb's brain. The soldiers let go of the lifeless body and his face hit the ground.
"Search the area. I want reports on my desk in less than an hour." The Gamemaster panted, as he put away his gun.

11 DEAD.
Ben rubbed the lump on his head. Damn, he thought. Why did Daniel knock him out? He presumed he was helping him in a weird kind of way. He had been hidden under a blanket, in a corner of the building. When he had woken up he had checked for his gun, but couldn't find it. Daniel must have taken it with him, along with the jeep.
He heard a gunshot. Crap, they were still killing each other. He grabbed a nearby shovel and waited behind the door. A few minutes later he heard footsteps. Someone was coming. There were around three people.
The door suddenly burst open and Ben swung the shovel around, making contact with a soldier. The soldier flew into the other two soldiers behind him, who pushed him out of the way.
"Drop your weapon!" One of the soldiers demanded, and Ben obeyed, dropping the shovel. They pointed at him with their guns at led him out of the building.

Ben was taken to a small house, which he recognized. He has passed it while he was looking for Daniel. The soldiers standing outside the door quickly checked him for weapons, and then sent him in on his own.
He saw a boy hanging from a chandelier. Obviously, he had hung himself so he wasn't killed by one of the other boys.
Ben entered the next room which seemed to be a dining room. To his surprise the man smiling at him was the person responsible for all of this.
Before Ben could say anything, the Gamemaster stated, "Sit down."
Ben obeyed, and sat down across from the Gamemaster on a wooden chair.
"Congratulations, you are the winner of the game," The Gamemaster smiled, as if he was always this happy. "Reports show you didn't kill anyone in this game. So how did you survive so long? Hide?"
"I… I went looking for a friend. He knocked my unconscious and hid me. I… I, um, I just woke up." Ben mumbled. The Gamemaster didn't look very happy.
"You were unconscious for the entirety of the game? Amusing."
"Please… Please release my family… Give my life back…" Ben pleaded.
The Gamemaster's face suddenly turned serious. "I'm sorry. A few of my trigger-happy comrades seem to have disposed of your parents, and you had no siblings."
Ben was speechless. He had survived all of this… For nothing.
"Well, there is some good news. I'm sure you know that you were adopted at birth? Because your parents died shortly after you were born… Well, I'm sure you didn't know this, but, your real parents were German. Hitler actually wanted you to win once he found out this information. That's why we arrived so quickly. We couldn't have tortured one of us. We're sorry for the inconvenience." The Gamemaster explained.
"No… I'm not one of you!" Ben protested, leaping out of his chair.
"You say that now, but, there's nothing left for you anymore… What are you going to do now?" Ben sat back down while the Gamemaster stood up.
"I don't know…" Ben mumbled. The Gamemaster walked over to where Ben was sitting. He grabbed his hand and pulled him to his feet.
"Welcome to Hell."

And got so far
But in the end
It doesn't even matter
I had to fall
To lose it all
But in the end
It doesn't even matter​
roguefan said:
Omg! That was amazing, some of the best original fan fic I have read in ages!!! I won't ask you to change anything, because it's great as it is. Excellent job.

Yay, one comment.

After rereading it, I found a lot more mistakes that I missed the first couple of times.

That was almost painful to read in one sitting, because the writing was effective at conveying the casual brutality of the "war game" and the overwhelming sense of hopelessness of it all.

Maybe it's just my personal reading of it, but I felt more desensitized afterwards, because the tone of the narrative was just so convincingly horrific that the only way to finish reading it was to just removie myself altogether, emotionally, from the story.

If anything, your fic underscores the differences in 'immersion' between a mixed medium (audio-visual like film, or textual-visual like comics) and one that makes use primarily of writing. With the film versions of Battle Royale and Lord of the Flies ( haven't read the book versions of either), it's easy enough to distance myself form the trauma of the battle for survival, because the medium has natural distancing techniques (whether it's panel composition in comics, or slick editing in film). But when it's left to my imagniation to fill in the gory details, I just find myself having to withdraw from the story to be able to complete it, especially when the writing deliberately plays up the inhumanity of it all.

And the twist at the end, with the revelation of Ben's parentage, was like salt in the wound. It was effective and clever, if a little over-stated (there was no reason to point out "He had survived all of this… For nothing", because it's already obvious without it being mentioned explicitly). But in my case, that felt like kicking the reader while he's down. I was honestly expecting an ironically upbeat, Life Is Beautiful style ending.

Oh, and I felt the quotes -- while definitely appropriate to the themes of the story -- kind of felt out of place, because I'm well aware of where they came from. So even if there were no attritubutions, the anachronistic rock lyrics feel a little off.

There's no doubt that your prose is powerful, and you've got a very firm grasp of mood-setting. But the overall grimness of your execution (no pun intended) was a little too much for me to bear.

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