Author's Note: Someone on Discord suggested that I write about France this week. We haven't heard from France and 2P!France in a long time. Then I ended up adding on a dark game to the match. And so here we are. Once again, the tech fail curse hit me. What was it this time? My charge cord died on me. So, I am using my grandma's cord. I ordered her/me a new one. It will be here in a couple of days. It's all good. Anyway, I have an interesting idea for next week. Stick around for that. For now, enjoy this week's match.


Match Seven: Diable:

The fog has reached France as well. Francis trembled as he looked out the window. Things were getting worse out there.

"Is something wrong?" a woman's voice asked. Francis looked up. A middle-aged woman sat at his table. She held a coffee mug in her hand. The Frenchman shook his head.

"Nothing," he said. He sat down in front of her at the table.

"How is your son doing?" he asked.

"Fine," the woman said. She sounded so nervous when she said that. Francis raised his eyebrow.

"Something wrong, dear?" he asked. The woman hesitated at first. She pressed her lips together as she looked down into her empty cup.

"Actually… there is something," the woman finally admitted. She set down the cup and reached into her purse. Francis watched as she pulled out her phone.

"I borrowed my son's laptop for work the other day," the woman said. "My charger chord died and I'm waiting for the new one to come in. Anyway, I got onto Google and came across this as the top result." The Frenchman looked at her screen.

"Dark Games?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. The woman tapped the screen and brought down a drop-down menu. She scrolled through until she came to a link titled "The Blood Needle Game".

"This was what he was looking at," she said. Francis looked up at her.

"What is it?" he asked. "What is this Blood Needle Game?" The woman braced herself.

"I shouldn't be surprised by this," she said. "My son has always been into the paranormal and creepy things. But this…" She shivered as she spoke.

"There's something not right here," the woman said.

"Does your son know that you looked at this site?" Francis asked. She shook her head.

"Not yet. He's still at school. I haven't had the chance to process all of it," the woman said.

"Do you want to look with me on my computer?" Francis asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Okay," he said. The French man got up from the table and walked into his living room. The woman, his neighbor, followed behind.


Francis sat down at his computer. He opened up his web browser and typed in the address. An all-black page appeared on the screen. The features all popped up one by one. This page looked like it was created by an amateur. Francis frowned at such an ugly sight. There was only one link on the front.

"Enter if You Dare," it said. Francis and his neighbor looked at each other. Clearly, he didn't see what she was upset about just yet. The woman pointed at the screen.

"Click on it," she said.

"Okay, okay," the French man said. He clicked on the link. A page with animate flames popped up on the screen. Gifs of skeletons danced under the title. Francis and the woman made faces at the woman.

"Kind of tacky, no?" the French man asked. His neighbor said nothing. Francis moved up to the drop-down menu and clicked on it. He scrolled until he found the game in question. He clicked on the option. Another page popped up on the screen. Nothing but a wall of text. The woman leaned in for a closer look.

"Rules on playing the Blood Needle Game," Francis read aloud. "You are going to need a few things: two needles, a lighter, a red thread, six candles, thirteen coins, and a photo of your target. Number one, think of your worst enemy. Number two, get a picture of them. Number three, draw a circle on the floor. Number four, place the coins in the circle."

Francis scrolled down the screen.

"Number five, arrange the candles between the coins. Number six, light all of the candles. Number seven, thread the needle. Number eight, poke a hole through the forehead of the target on the picture."

Francis scrolled down the screen.

"Number nine, pull the needle through the picture. Number ten, thread the second needle. Number eleven, poke the hole through the bottom of the picture. Number twelve, tie the two threads together."

The French man stopped when a hand tugged on his shoulder. He turned his head to see his neighbor looking so pale.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"Please… stop," the woman pleaded. Her hand started to tremble. Francis gave her a confused look.

"What's the matter?" he asked. She looked him in the eye.

"I know what this is about," she said. The woman closed her fist on top of her chest.

"His father," she said. "My ex. Marcel and I just finished a nasty divorce. Before then, we didn't have a happy marriage. Marcel constantly cheated on me. I found myself stressed all of the time. I lost my job and nearly ended up going to the hospital because of it. My son blames him for everything."

"So you think…?" Francis began to ask. The woman nodded. She buried her head in her hands.

"He acted like everything was fine," she said. Francis took her by the wrists. His neighbor looked up.

"You need to talk to him," the French man said. "Do you know if he's started the game yet?"

"No," she said. Francis let go of her wrists and stood back.

"In any case, you have to talk to him before it's too late," he said. The woman stared at him with wide desperate eyes.

"What if I am too late?" she asked.

"You still have to try," Francis said. "Just get through to him." His neighbor pressed her lips together.

"I will," she said. "Thank you." He gave her a little smile.

"You're welcome," the Frenchman said.


Meanwhile, François took a walk through the fog. He knew that he was getting close. The smell of perfume clung to his coat. The sex workers were more than happy to pleasure him. But enough with the games. He's got to get to work.

He made his way to the bus stop. Only an old woman sat on the bench. François didn't pay any attention to her as he sat down.

"It's coming," the old lady said. François looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She still faced forward.

"How long will it be before you become an actor in this show?" the old lady asked.

"Soon," he said. "I am going to meet him right now." The old lady chuckled.

"I wish you luck then," she said. François bowed his head. Suddenly, the bus pulled up at the station. The dirty Frenchman stood up and boarded the bus. He looked over his shoulder. The old lady didn't move.

"I wish you a good day," he said. The oldy gave him a crooked smile. Her teeth were so black with some of them missing. François shivered before getting on the bus. The old lady smiled as she watched said bus pull away.