Marleen sat atop the gazebo’s dome, anxiously tightening the strap of her new shield while she debated the issue of trust. Beneath her, in the meeting room, all the major players in Bilgewater were deep in conversation about how to combat the Harrowing, unbeknownst to them that their world was about to be rocked by the Snake Egg; Sarpa Anda, and her revelations.

Marleen wasn’t to drop down until the agreed upon signal, whereupon she would show herself as something entirely out of this world. At least, that’s what Snake Egg said. But she couldn’t help seeing this as an obvious trap. A dramatic way to capture a serial killer. Because in this city that’s what Marleen was, regardless of her true intent. Regardless of the Battle Royale going on in her reality.

She couldn’t simply hand over her trust and drop down, could she?

That was what Marleen thought, but her heart and her gut told her to trust Sarpa. Trust the person that had every right and chance to kill her the night before, but didn’t.

Marleen kept thinking about the ride they took this morning.

They took a caravan through the town after a sleepless night. Through the same street -Fleet Street; she would not soon forget the name- where Marleen had done most of her hunting. Weeping mothers, silent corpses, buckets of water thinning the blood off the street -the rush she was in last night seemed so frivolous by morning.

Before the fog settled in properly, Marleen got to see that Bilgewater was immense for an arena. There was no way that she could’ve forced a victory within a single night.

Only until they passed all sight of the spree did Marleen sit down, and realize that Snake Egg had been staring at her all this time. It was a tense stare -she was well named, because she would pout to accentuate her sharp features, moving ever so slightly, analysing just as a patient snake would. She had not told Marleen where they were going, or why they were in a caravan, but was it her place to ask?

Last night Snake Egg was nothing but forward, ready to send Marleen out of this world. Why she didn’t, confounded her. How she managed to pull the whole ‘hunter’ story out of her ass was still one of Marleen’s most impressive moments of quick-wit. Okay, so her name was ‘de Jaeger’, but Sarpa didn’t have to know that. Still, it was clear by her behaviour -sitting with hands folded between her legs, still lipped and ever watching- that she still did not trust Marleen.

Well Marleen had hunted. Not sparing a thought for any of the civilians she had killed the previous night, until she showed up. But after that sobering encounter, Marleen realized that she did not want to be that monster. Snake Egg’s commitment, her care and dedication to her people was magnetic. That woman simply had something about her.

“Thank you,” Marleen had said.

Sarpa kept her gaze. “For what?”

“For stopping me.” Despite the caravan’s maroon curtains, Marleen could still visualize every consequence of her rampage. It was etched into her brain. “That was not the way I wanted to achieve my goal.”

Sarpa Anda lingered, bobbing her bald head in that signature, slick yet commanding way that she did, and seemed to bow as a way of accepting the apology. She slipped forward to ask her, “Banishing others of your kind back to your home world? Who gave you this task?”

Marleen opened her mouth to dodge the question, but felt indebted to this woman. A bit inspired as well – she was so strong, exactly how Marleen had always wanted to portray herself, but with the confidence to pull it off.

“I chose it, actually,” Marleen started, the blushing as she mixed in truth to her lies, “There is suffering in my world as there is in yours, and the reward for this task would help me greatly.” She prepared for follow up questions, hoping to steer clear of ‘why’, about the true nature of Bilgewater being a game.

However, Snake Egg simply nodded. “You help me and I’ll help you.” After a sigh of relief from Marleen, she then continued on to list her plans to confront the committee at Baron’s Rest with proof that all the mysterious killings -and now the fog- wasn’t because of some supernatural event, but because of the Others’ invasion.

As Snake Egg burst into the room below, this is what Marleen struggled with, awaiting her call to action atop the roof. She was supposed to offer -or perhaps be- the proof that another world had invaded Bilgewater. But how was Marleen supposed to prove that? Outside knowledge? Inside knowledge? Was there something she knew that she could use to wow them? Otherwise, couldn’t the committee just as easily claim she was some insane oddity? It reeked of a trap, it reeked of suspicious activity, yet at the same time Marleen felt deeply convinced that Snake Egg was only doing what was best for her people -and for her. But she had been wrong before.

“This is NOT the work of the Harrowing!” Snake Egg blared downstairs.

The scuffles started, and though Snake Egg had assured Marleen she wouldn’t be hurt, it didn’t stop her from fingering her shield and flute uneasily, in case she needed them after making the jump.

“And I have proof.”

Sweating heavily, Marleen stepped towards the rim of the Dome. What do I say? How do I prove I don’t belong? How does one tell when someone is a contestant and not a citizen?

Suddenly, there was one. A player across from her. Marleen didn’t need any proof; it was the most obvious thing in the world.

How does one tell who is a player? She thought with a smile.

He appeared as a servant with axes on his back, getting ready to jump from the roof of the corridor to the gazebo. Freezing as he saw her, the player tried to reach for his axes. Marleen didn’t give him the chance.

You just know!

She leapt between the sloped rooves, shield-arm swung back, levelling its spiked bottom like fangs. His reactions sluggish, Marleen began pelting the player with fierce blows. She knocked him back and down the length of the corridor’s roof, spraying the clay tiles red until he slammed against the raised wall of the connected building. With a little distance between them, the injured player finally got around to drawing his axes. They were huge! Definitely weren’t that size before.

Marleen brought up her shield in a low guard, ready to try something.

She had been a little disappointed when she found it earlier; what hunter needed a shield? But having used it, Marleen was pleasantly surprised. It was a perfect combat shield; not too heavy to move, or too small to be useless against blunt swings, but with a curled-spike design that added damage to a bash and a tight strap that made it feel like it wasn’t a shield at all, but a sadistic boxing glove.

As her prey leaned against the wall, panting, Marleen secretly loosened the strap of her shield. Behind, she could hear arguments from the meeting room. It was time to finish this, quick, before he made some wild last stand.

Luckily, he waited for her to strike first. Axes out, ready to retaliate. Stepping back as if she was about to charge him, Marleen chucked the shield forward with all her strength.

The shield’s two spikes dug in on either side of his neck, pinning the axeman to the wall. Paying attention now, Marleen actually saw the axes grow as she hit him. Acting quickly, she untucked her blowgun and pulled on it three times.

It should’ve been enough. The player drooped forward, clanging his forehead against the shield. But he kept a hold of his axes. His now obscenely monstrous edges, which he smashed backwards against the brick wall, crumbling it.

He’s still standing? A blowgun wouldn’t save her now, but she wasn’t going to run. Instead, Marleen pounced forward, inching her hand just close enough to grab her fallen shield -and hoping not to get her face sliced open. She got it. If only a moment before the axeman jerked his head up and started slashing, playing the entire fight again but in reverse.

Each hit reverberated through her shield, like tremors grappling at her core. Marleen had the choice to collapse her stance or spew bile from the sides of her mouth. She chose the latter, doing her best to mitigate the brunt of each swing, dodging and weaving as far back as she could. Her one saving grace was that the player was hurt, and couldn’t quickly swing such beastly weapons.

Ducking past another lethal attack, she hopped back up to the gazebo. It was much harder this time. After a landing roll, she didn’t have the strength to get up and so, laying on her back, Marleen waited to see if the axeman would follow. From the side of her heaving, wheezing chest she saw him gearing up for a jump. But he kept stumbling, like his sense of balance just wouldn’t cooperate. Is it the poison? Is it finally working?

She sat up, briefly hopeful, then groaned up at the sky as the axeman sprung up beside her. Out of spite, Marleen got out her blowgun and pulled, spiking the player in the neck.

He dropped one of his axes to pull the dart out, nearly tripping off the side of the roof.

“Are you…trynapoisonme?” he said suddenly, slurring his words.

Marleen blinked in surprise. “Are you drunk?”

He smiled and began to run, picking up the fallen axe and at the same time dragging it across the roof in an upward swipe.

“That’s bullshit! That’s why the poison wasn’t working?” Marleen tightened her shield-strap and held her ground. She kept it close, upright, making her body as narrow as possible, and as the death-blade swung Marleen moved inside to dodge, blasting the player with an uppercut.

But as he fell, the player lashed out with the other axe, and finally landed a clean hit.

Marleen touched her wound in shock. In her mind she had been split in half. There was blood between her fingers, but she was still whole. Furthermore, her blood was blowing away in wisps, trickling towards the player she was fighting. He stood straighter, firmer. But his axes had shrunk. Considerably.

“I feel a lot better now,” he said, wiping his brow.

Healing axes? Marleen trusted this game to be fair. Her anger at being betrayed pulsed stronger than any pain she felt. If she hurt him his weapons grew, and if he hit her, he got healed. What the fuck was she supposed to do?

Then, from below came a cry. “MARLEEN?”

The other player looked down. But to Marleen it was just a reminder. She was done for if she continued fighting, but she wasn’t about to break the trust of a friend.

In the second Snake Egg had bought her, Marleen barrelled into the player, knocking them both off the dome. But as she went down, Marleen grabbed the edge to vault inside, the player clinging on too. They crashed onto the meeting room table, holding each other’s arms back.

The committee balked, becoming arena and audience at once. Snake Egg burst forth from between them, screaming, “I told you. She’s already found one! She’s hunting them for us!”

“Help me,” Marleen tried to say. She was losing the struggle, axe-tips slowly digging into her back. But all the members looked at her in awe, expecting her to handle it.

“Is that what she told you?” someone else said, climbing onto the wide round table. “This slave has been my bane, but in his arrogance, he revealed the truth. All of them are hunting each other. They have no care, no reason to help us; it’s just a game to them!” With a fierce stamp, he pinned the axeman down by his forearm.

This allowed Marleen to break free from his hold, with a perfect view to see her helper get beheaded, a pair of golden bracers still in his hands. The sight reminded her of the previous night’s hunt, filling her with remorse.

The crowd backed further away now. There was no escaping this confrontation. Forcing herself up for what seemed like the last time, Marleen had one more strategy; If he only healed when he hit her, then she just had to not make any mistakes. She wasn’t about to let someone who killed so rashly take her place as victor. Bilgewater deserved better.

Pumping herself up, Marleen turned to Snake Egg to tell her that everything would be fine.

The Buhru official had tears in her eyes. “You lied…”