S IM U LA TION ...
READY PLAYER ONE? _
LOADING .. .
E NT E RIN G_E-L EV E L_MIS SI ON_HELIOS.. .
saint never thought that someone like him could survive in an environment like this. tasked to do crazy, dangerous things as form of entertainment for other people’s pleasure. in the outside world, his family had often called him fragile. weak. if saint could hardly keep up with the wolves out there, what made him think that he could run from them in here? it was a question that often kept him up at night; however, he thinks it’s safe to say he’s beaten the presumed odds.
saint has been a toy of the collective for over a year now.
he’s still the same in some senses. the chinese man is still shy. still soft-spoken and quick to help others. saint is a person of peace. it shows in the faction that he’s actually become quite proud to be a part of. though, he’s also changed too. there aren’t enough fingers and toes on his body to count how many people he’s hurt. how many the collective has forced him to kill (in here, it’s either eat or be eaten). it never gets easier, but the hesitation saint used to display is fading. and, god, does it scare him. as someone from cerulean, he’s smart enough to know that the collective doesn’t send him on as many missions as other’s; however, this doesn’t mean he hasn’t been through his fair share of them. he doesn’t expect this simulation to be any different.
like always, though, saint is wowed by the technology that the showrunners seem to possess. it preoccupies his mind for a moment before instructions start to be relayed to him. the mention of the nightbound tournament sends a jolt of ice down his spine. he doesn’t worry for himself. he worries for the other’s that he holds close. even in this crazy chapter of life he’s found himself in, saint still hasn’t learned not to trust other’s so freely.
the simulation itself seems to be something simple for now. get from point a to point b. don’t get caught or run until your legs give out. saint likes to keep himself hidden, if possible, but it’s hard to blend into crowds and what not when you’re one head taller than everyone else. he’s learned to be crafty. that’s another thing that’s different from old saint and new saint. new saint doesn’t panic as badly as new saint. his hands still shake. his heart still hammers away in his chest, but he still manages to be leveled enough to make himself useful.
but it also helps that his legs are long.
after a staggering punch to the jaw from a sneaky tagger, those sticks of his help him sprint the rest of the way out to point b. even while out of breath, he still has enough energy to think, to know, this is only the beginning.
