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[url=https://youtu.be/g5Z-AEgP-9k?si=JpsTOmQl-kiYxs7d]{ ♪ ♫ ♪ }[/url]

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[quote][i]"Hey Gamewatchers! Welcome to the show, my name is Jeem, also known as GM, and today we'll be continuing our dive into the lore and theorizing of the ever-popular, ever-brutal, and most of all, ever-[i]outstanding[/i] web series still sweeping the nation: Game of Masters! As we all know, it's been just about a month since the end of the last run--our hearts still go our to dear old Jerry--and that can mean only one thing. This coming Friday, under the light of the dreaded full moon, the Game Master will be on the hunt for his next victim--[i]Scary[/i]! Make sure to stay safe out there if you're in the Fortehaven area, folks! Would hate to find out one of my loyal watchers was at the hands of that horrible fiend, and, man, am I sure glad to be safe and sound up here in Ontario, hahaha! Let's get started on our next delve into this twisted world of the GM by taking a look at the beginning of dear old Jerry's tragic run, shall we?"[/i][/quote]

[indent]"Putz."

The word was spat under their breath as Rueben reached over to switch the video over to something else. They settled on a playlist for a video game soundtrack, scrolling through to find their favorite out of the list, and let it play a moment before shifting to return to their sketchbook. They were on the balcony of their crappy apartment, curled up in a cushioned patio chair with several blankets and pillows tucked around them to make something of a nest. A breeze blew against the building, sweeping past them and tugging at the pages of their journal ever so slightly; the strung lights above them swaying in a steady yet erratic motion. Despite the chill of the gentle wind, and the smell of the rundown part of the city around them--a mix of exhaust, garbage, and...[i]presents[/i] from the homeless--ever since they had moved out of their childhood home just a month prior, this had become Rube's favorite spot in the world. Even on the many rainy days over the past few weeks, they had found themself enjoying the majority of their time on the balcony. It was small, cramped with all the furniture they had 'accidentally' bought while browsing online under the influence of...certain happy substances... Not to mention, the whole structure looked and sounded as though it would collapse away from the building any day now. 

[i]"If it crumbles and I'm on it, so be it!"[/i]

This was the only response Rueben had made to the very concerns of their sister when she had come to help Rube with moving in, and they still stood by that view even after tripping on a loose brick on morning and nearly being tossed over the rusty railing. If Rueben was honest there, the adrenaline from the event just made them love the broken-down balcony all the more.

As they continued their work on an intricate live sketch of the building across from them--a grand church with a million different shapes just in the steeple alone--their mind kept wandering back to the video they had started watching. The title had intrigued them, just like everything else that had to do with the infamous killer plaguing their city, but even they had enough respect not to see the sadistic game as merely a means to gain clout on the internet. People like that really got on their nerves. There was not caring about others, and then there was being a jerk. Rube could admit themself that they had little care about the people around them, if people suffered, so be it, that was just the way of the world, as they'd come to learn, but to actually try to gain off the suffering of others? Despicable.

Looking across to the church for another reference, their gaze soon traveled to look at the moon floating just above the tall steeple. There had been a time when they enjoyed the full moon. An aspiring witch in their teenage years, they had practically worshipped the moon, as well as whatever moon goddess they were hyper-fixating on at the time. Now, with the association the phase had to the dreaded web-show, the full moon felt like a betrayal. It was supposed to be a time of peace and comfort. A time of protection and power. The only power Rueben could see now though was the power of fear the celestial body inflicted on people.

They were lost in thought for a while, and so when the wind blew a little harder than before, they weren't prepared for the blast, and flinched in a way that caused them to drop their notebook. It smacked against the brick-laid surface of the balcony, and Rueben just looked down at it for a moment, before giving a heavy sigh and shifting to get up. It took a minute, since they had to move most of the blankets and pillows to the side to be able to get to their feet, but eventually, they got there. Unfortunately, they didn't quite get their whole body free from the wrappings of the blanket, and, with their foot caught in a fabric-y tendril, they ended up tripping, their outreached hand shoving the sketchbook further out of reach. Meanwhile, their body kept moving with the momentum, and they continued stumbling forward. Again the book was shoved, this time by their foot, and this time, it was hit hard enough that it was sent skidding to the railing, flying right under the iron bars and promptly taking a sad dive to the floors below.

"Fuck."

Rueben grumbled as they shook their leg free, at last, and got their footing straightened out. Smoothing out their loungewear as they straightened up, they gave a sigh as they continued to mutter and made their way back inside the apartment. They continued through the small space to the door, grabbed their keys from a bowl by the door, slipped on their shoes, and finally headed out.

Five flights of stairs later, they were on the ground floor, briskly walking out of the building and turning to go around to the place below their balcony. They knew the book couldn't have fallen on a lower balcony, the structures lined up too perfectly, and besides, they had [i]heard it[/i] smack twice against two different pieces of iron, one further than the other. That book was on the ground. They just hoped it wasn't destroyed.

To their relief, they could immediately see the journal, all in one piece, laying on the ground near the street by their side of the building. Jogging over to retrieve it, they let out another sigh and moved in a swooping motion to scoop it up like some Disneyland employee picking up a piece of trash in the park. With a sharp turn on their heel, they started right back for the building entrace, absently checking the bindings and pages to make sure the sketchbook was truly undamaged.[/indent]

[color=7ea7d8][i]Tick-tick-tick-[/i][/color]
[center][color=7ea7d8][i]tick-tack-tick-tack-tack-tack-[/i][/color][/center]
[right][color=7ea7d8][i]tack-ck-ck-ck-ck-ck[/i][/color][/right]

[indent]The sudden, sharp sound drew Rueben's attention immediately away from their journal and their gaze flicked wildly around them as they came to a dead stop in the middle of the sidewalk. The sight of some small blue thing bouncing along the pavement in front of them caught their full attention and their blood went ice cold.

[i]No.[/i]

They looked at the number displayed on the die, their body starting to shake.

[ [color=fff200]4[/color] ]

[i]No no no no-no-no-no.[/i]

Looking around they shifted their hold on the journal in their hand, trying to grip it like a makeshift weapon before they called out, "Hell fucking [i]no[/i], you damned creep! I ain't [i]doing[/i] this shit, so just fuck off!"

With nothing in sight, Rueben took off running toward the building entrance. Old as the St. Julius was, it still had that magnet lock that so many buildings in the city had. If they could just get through and close the door before their pursuer--[i]no[/i], their [i]hunter[/i] caught them, surely, [i]surely[/i], they would give up, rather than risk Rueben calling the police.

The large, heavy doors were in sight. Just a few more strides. Safety was in the reach-- and then a sharp pain struck Rube's toe as their shoe collided with a piece of the sidewalk that had shifted upward. [i]They forgot[/i]. They [i]forgot[/i] about the stupid crack.

The world went sideways, their knees struck the ground, journal flying ahead of them as they threw their hands out to catch themself, only for their palms to skid ruthlessly against the rough cement. A cry escaped them, and they couldn't hold back the tears as their skin tore, open wounds stinging and burning as though they were on fire.

They dropped to their side, bringing their hands against their chest and letting out a trembling sob. Rueben cried for a moment but bit their tongue and fell silent at the approach of footsteps.

"Drawn from safety by wild events, you find yourself in the most unfortunate of predicaments. Privy to the danger you quickly found, you chose to flee, ignoring the curse of the number already put upon thee. So close to haven, yet so far away, your hope was never truly worth, when your failure was already destined."

Rueben looked up at the cacophony of voices, looking straight into the darkness where the Game Master's eyes should have been. They trembled. Against pain, against fear. They fought to hide it though, they tried to be strong in the face of the villain.

"I was never much one for following rules," they told the being, "I won't be much fun in your game, really. M-Maybe I can open the door to the building for you and you can find someone else to grab?"

The Game Master looked down at them, tilting their head as they fiddled with the die in their hand, "Interesting..." they spoke slowly, "A false hero offers the lives of their neighbors for the life of their own. Lawful Evil? Mayhaps. An amusing existence in a world full of woe, but, ah- false hero, would you really give another to your foe?"

Rueben hesitated, swallowing hard as they thought about the being's--nay, the [i]demon's[/i] words. Soon enough though they signed and looked away, tears pushing out as they shook their head, "No," they told them, "No...I...I-I couldn't do that..."

"Mayhaps..." the Game Master responded, slowly stepping over Rueben and crouching over them as they slipped away their die and pulled out a syringe instead, "Your conflicting morals are quite the conundrum, false hero," they continued, holding Rube in place to inject the sedative, "I feel you and I will be having much...[i]much[/i] fun."[/indent]