The air in the old, slightly rusty C-130 cargo plane was thick with tension.

All hundred of us knew that only one of us would be able to return, to win the coveted reward that we all vied for.

And I was determined to win it, at any cost.

Unlike my other trips to the arena, no one had tapped my shoulder, asking to team up, or even to say hello. Instead, we all sat in thoughtful silence, eyes averted from each other. All hundred of us were seasoned veterans of the games, and we knew that glimpsing a rival's humanity, even knowing his voice or name, would cause us to hesitate in pulling the trigger.

I had lost count of how many battles I had won. All I remembered was that one fateful day, two years ago, I had been selected by the government as a rookie fighter in the games. The Battlegrounds, they called it. And ever since then, I had made history. I was the undefeated champion, the previously unknown conqueror. After my tenth victory, in both solos and squads, they elected to name the games after me, in my honour.

PlayerUnknown's Battlegrounds.

I was jolted out of my thoughts by the deafening grinding of the opening bay doors.

"We are approaching the Battleground arena," a female voice boomed. "Please take your parachute, smartcuff, and approved possessions from the overhead bin above your head, excluding weapons, and jump when necessary. Pushing others off the plane or sabotaging their equipment before deployment is strictly forbidden, and severe consequences await those who do so. Only one of you will return from this Battleground. Best of luck, and remember: winner, winner, chicken dinner."

The speakers then shut off with a resonant 'click'.

I strapped my smartcuff, a waterproof, rugged watch which would show my current location on the arena map, kill count, and the number of survivors left in the arena, onto my wrist, as the rest of my rivals were doing with theirs. I then pushed the crown of the watch, activating a hologram of the map. Figuring out where the best landing spot was, I decided on my usual area: a small cluster of houses near Yasnaya-Polyana, which would hopefully have enough loot for me to get by with for the first few days. That way, I wouldn't be thrust into the thick of the action, and for a few days, I would be safe from the blue force field that would move further into the arena as the game slowly drew to a close.

"1 kilometre away.", I muttered to myself, keeping my voice low and gravelly. If the others knew my plan, I would be a dead man walking. Scratch that, I wouldn't even be given a chance to walk; they would just shoot me out of the sky above the island.

I watched as the rest buttoned their shirts, strapped on their parachutes, whispered their prayers, and jumped towards the clear blue sky to their landing zones. I had to admit, the sky was beautiful, perfectly complementing the rolling forests and farmland below. No one would have guessed that a literal war was occurring in the midst of such otherworldly beauty.

On second thoughts, that may have been why the government decided to host the Battlegrounds on islands like Erangel and Sanhok.

My smartcuff then gave two long beeps, signalling that it was finally my turn to jump.

Breathing deeply, I zipped my green hooded parka over a plain black tank top, which I had worn in every Battleground since my first. No trousers; I had never won one from the Battleground supply boxes, so I would have to snag a pair from one of the abandoned houses when I landed. Finally, I grabbed my dark green parachute from under the seat and strapped it effortlessly onto my back. I gazed hungrily at the patchwork of scenery below me; there was a chance that I would never see it again.

"God, if you're there, help me," I whispered.

And I leapt into the sky.