Fragmented Echoes. Chapter 1: Undeground Hell

Act 3: Promised Land.Part 1: No promises

Your life is merely a prison.

Are you fit for ripping down its bars?

I foresee chaos collapsing the Machine like a house of cards.

So fight with the past agent, you're bound to end the Promised Land

You do your strongest, so long as you don't lose your mind.

The cart is moving in complete darkness. Hunger, thirst, exhaustion and my wounds are taking a toll of me. It's getting harder to keep myself standing, so I sit instead, leaning against the wall of the cart. My nose is bleeding and head is killing me... but it brings back memories. Good memories of my time on the surface. I didn't have many friends before I got here; I spent my time playing games, dreaming of becoming a pro player in Gunslinger. I sigh with nostalgia.

Now I think about it... We have degraded to gladiatorial fights in a tech cover with our champions trapped in a circle of endless existence. They can be killed. But they cannot die. They'll be back, to entertain the crowd, shedding blood over and over, doing the same things in the same places forever. But they are just animatronics. Machines with no soul or mind, controlled by people outside. But Traitors Hall... they are different. They too are avatars, trapped in this place. But they have souls, and minds.

I look at my hand. Am I an avatar too? A champion created to entertain others, trapped here only to suffer, with a mind and a soul? Asshole replied:

"As a character to another - yes."

"And if you stop breaking the supposed fourth wall?"

"Then you are somewhat closer to the truth with all that avatar stuff and comparison with your human games. But that does not explain all these errors in your memory... and it doesn't explain me."

I wipe my nose and look at him.

"You? What are you talking about? If you turn out to be my ex..."

"No..it's worse than that. And for fuck's sake, stop telling those dumb-ass jokes..."

"You're telling ME to stop joking?! The world has changed."

He shook his head, sighing.

"Richard... Richard. I gave you hints, I told you the facts the first time we "met", and yet you still blindly deny the truth."

He leans toward me, lowering his tone.

"What do you think you are, Richard Streletskiy?"

"I am a human squidfucker, you useless jackass."

He just grins in return.

"If I were a psychotherapist, I would say that your sanity lost it's virginity. And I'm not Chuck Norris, so I won't go and grab it for you. "

I remain silent for the remnants of our short trip. The cart reaches its final destination, a couple of maintenance tunnels leading out - a terrible option, but there's nowhere else to go. We get out of the cart and go back to the nearest door I saw on our way. Just like I expected - it's not even locked and opens without a problem. But there's dark like a nig... to hell with racist jokes. I have the flashlight, but I don't have three... hands. Hold on a sec. I have four fucking extra limbs just growing on my head and doing nothing other than making me look bad. Ok, Тунеядцы. It's your chance to redeem yourself and do something good. I took out flashlight and raise it to my head.

"Hold it."

They don't react. Do they have a high ping or something? I poked them with the flashlight, but one of them pokes it back and hits me in the face.