Before I get to this new story, I want to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Aviskye. She's an amazing friend of mine; go read her story The Darkness Beyond, it is well written, original, with a creative plot... and I could go on.

Now. I've wanted to write a Survival Games for a long time, though I know it's extremely over-done and the idea is wearing thin for most readers. Even so, I'm going to try and be somewhat original. Oh, and I PROMISE, no youtubers.

Ian

It wasn't cold. That's what surprised me most. I vividly remembered the freezing night beforehand -a sharp contrast from the perfect temperature where I lay, neither hot nor cold.

And so I woke, my eyes staring, unfocussed, at the plain white ceiling above me. Soon enough I snapped into full consciousness, my mind still slightly muddled.

I sat up, meeting the dark eyes of a red-haired girl. A simple green T-shirt covered her torso. Dark blue jeans clothed her legs, which were crossed beneath her, her feet encased in black and white runners. Her hair hung down to her waist, chestnut brown streaked with dark red.

Finally looking away from this stranger, I studied my own clothing, which matched hers.

"Who are you?" The speaker was, of course, the girl, yet her suspicious and demanding tones were unexpected. It was hardly my fault I was here -wherever the hell 'here' was. I looked at her defiantly, only to be locked in her glare -so full of hatred and anger that I looked away almost instantly.

"M'name's Ian," I mumbled, studying the floor.. She nodded in my peripheral vision, not offering so much as her name in return.

We sat like that in silence for a while, her resting against the wall, me sitting uncomfortably in the middle of this empty white room; the only feature a light set in the ceiling.

"Welcome to this year's Survival Games!" The male voice boomed through the room and I stood, a feeling of horror and dread spreading through my body.

/\ /\ /\ /\

Holly

Teleportation. I had never through about what such a thing would feel like, but I doubt I could have ever imagined the shock of having every cell in my body being torn apart and fixed back together in a new place. No pain -the body had no measure of pain for that kind of damage. Just a wave of shock; the kind that leaves you helpless for a moment, caught up trying to work out what just happened.

This new area was as much a surprise. White bark dotted with black encased slender trees that were scattered around myself and perhaps fifty others; all wore the same clothes, all were grouped into pairs.

My pair, a small blonde girl, gripped my hand and pointed ahead.

We all stood in a circle around a large pile of items; weapons, food, camping gear, all was laid out around twenty meters before us.

A low hum began to build in my ears, smoothly growing in volume until it became an almost unbearable buzz. Then it faded away, and a female voice spoke clearly.

"Welcome to the one hundredth Survival Games, Holly. I am here to guide you through this new world."

The perfect, calming tones lead me to guess that the humming had been a measure of my hearing. I gazed at the people around me. Each time my eyes rested on a single person for too long, the voice would inform me of that person's name, gender, and who their pair was. It referred to the pairs as 'teams', and when I questioned the word use in my thoughts, it told me that for the first time ever, players of this sick game (not its words) were put into teams. If members of the same team became the final two, both would win.

Understanding this, I looked at the little girl beside me. White-blonde hair fell from her shoulders, her arms hugging her torso. She couldn't be older than eleven.

"Isobelle. Female. Teamed with Holly." Hearing my own name again unnerved me, it confirmed that I was here. And so I looked out to the other teams once again.

"Amy. Female. Teamed with Ian" The name sent shocks through my body. I searched for the girl whose name I knew so well. The red-brown hair caught my eye and fear, guilt, sadness and a just tinge of excitement swelled inside me. Amy caught my eye, and she glared at me, staring deeply into my eyes, as though she could see my soul, and hated it.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, but my apology was drowned by a yell.

"Game beginning in ten!"

A few seconds passed, in which my heart beat wildly.

"Five!"

I gripped Isobelle's hand, preparing to run away from the others.

"Four!"

Amy didn't leave her gaze from me, though she muttered something to her pair.

"Three!"

Others were preparing to run at the centre. I wondered what Amy would do.

"Two!"

I was so scared. Lord was I scared.

"One!"

Amy's gaze, did it soften slightly?

"Zero! You have a sixty-second Grace Period!"

The lightning that signaled the start shook the ground, and I almost lost my balance. I couldn't leave my eyes from Amy, even though Isobelle tugged at my arm. She and Ian separated and he ran to the items, sprinting as fast as he could. Amy ran straight at me, and I quivered in terror.

"Come on," She commanded, grabbing my arm and pulling me towards the centre. She was fast; I could barely keep up. Ian was frantically reaching for the provisions, filling a large brown back-pack. Amy let go of my hand, reaching for an elegant sheathed sword. The sheath was a simple white, the edges darkening to silver. The crossguard was narrow, curving over the edge of the blade and was barely wider than the sheath. The hilt was of medium length; a hand-and-a-half blade. Inside the pommel, which was shaped to be like a leaf extending from the hilt ending in a tight point, a black dragon was carved, its tail keeping the leaf attached to the rest of the sword.

Amy held the weapon with awe, and I remembered afternoons as she practiced fencing, sometimes showing me a few skills, though I was rarely interested.

Isobelle reached out and grabbed a dagger that was suitable for her size; a rather plain knife that had a blade about fifteen centimeters long.

Glancing around the limited pile of weapons, I hesitantly snatched a dark wood bow, already strung. Amy threw at me a quiver of un-dyed leather, full of arrows as dark as the bow.

"Let's go," Ian muttered. He had attached to his belt a sheathed two-handed sword, which was noticeably simpler than Amy's. Obeying, I followed the two, Isobelle keeping close to me, her dagger steady in her small hand.

End AN's are hard. I want to spoil stuff. Aanyway, look forward to the next chapter, hopefully out by next week. R&R, and Oc's are welcome.