The one flashed on the billboards and a weight-crushing bong echoed across the city. The billboards in the city turned red, releasing the admonishing blaring sound and screening the words FFA. Once the noise stopped, the hex dome disappeared, and as if by some ritualistic chant every player yelled as they rushed out of the enclosed arena and poured into the city.

Weapons that Nick hadn't seen earlier began to materialize. Players picked up either a gun, a sword, mace, or used their watches to slaughter the other players.

Nick ran to pick up a neon blue rifle but he was nearly swung on the head by a square faced player. Nick tapped his watch and quickly looked through all the options. There was a holographioc inventory of weapons for Nick to select from, but he had to collect them. The only thing that was available was...

Nick's watch blew a thick laser at the player, searing a hole into his body. The scramble of death continued as blood splattered everywhere on the street. Nick absorbed the rifle into his watch and ran for the nearest highrise. There were silver poles extended to them that allowed you to climb all the way to the top. It would be much safer there. That was if he could make it without getting a hole in chest

"N-no, please!" Nick turned around. It was Hershey, kneeled on the ground, praying on the feet of the player holding a silver automatic rifle to his head. "I swear I won't hurt you. I'll be your best friend. I'll be your most loyal ally. I swear I w–" Herhey's face exploded like popping cherry as the bullets cut through his head. The player shouted something in German and then looked in Nick's direction. He had a square jaw almost like the last player Nick encountered, and blue eyes. But there seemed to be a deep unrelenting anger in the player's face that startled Nick and caused him to fall back in suprise. He was going to be next.

The German player grabbed the attention of the players behind him and pointed in Nick's direction. A wave of exigency poured into Nick's flesh as he briskly scrambled to the silver pole. He climbed each one, dodging bullets that aimed at his torso in near misses. Nick screamed. He felt several stabs of pain on his back leg and spine.

"Mach ihn fertig!" The german player's rousing words reached Nick's ears from below. Nick's strength was palling and his legs were beginning to feel like jelly. Lines of blood dripped down Nick's ankle. His heart pounded and throbbed in his throat. This was it. He wasn't gonna make it.

The dead players from below seemed to be swelling in number.

"Help! I'm burning! I'm burning!" a player choked, as he slept on the ground bleeding to death. Soon his breath gave out and his body lay motionless. Many more shouts of fire and burning entered Nick's ears. What was happening? How could they be burning if there were no flamethrowers or molotovs shot at them?

"Nick! Over here!"

Nick threw his chin upward and saw a hand dangling to grab his. Diana?

Mila's face popped out from the top edge. "Hurry up, I can lift you!"

Nick frowned. Somehow she had managed to get to the top before he did. The cold wind soared and whistled the higher he climbed, but his legs were beginning to buckle and his arms were weakening from loss of blood. The firm grip he thought he had was beginning to slip. This is no time for your sexism. Grab her hands or take the damn fall.

Nick caught on to Mila's hand and slowly started to eat through the elevation. He desperately reached his last pole and slumped onto the roof. Nick panted, coughing out a pool of slimy blood. His vision was beginning to birth spots of blackness and the next moment, he finally saw what the dead players were talking about. The blue sky that Nick was established to began to glitch and a new texture attacked his vision. A fiery orange texture blazed into the city, inspiring a new incendiary pain. A type of pain that smoldered the spirit. The flames were eating up Nick's legs and in a matter of seconds he would be completely engulfed.

Mila's blackened profile stood over him.

"Mila?" Nick panted, doing his fighting best not to scream. It was all making sense. Eternal torture...the symbols on the walls, the imploring screams from the dead players...

"Mila, I don't think Chaos is just a game. I think it's Hell."