Julian "Jules" Vance

The alarm clock buzzed like an angry wasp, but Julian "Jules" Vance didn’t stir. His bedroom, a battlefield of clothes, snack wrappers, and half-filled notebooks, reflected the chaos of his life.

“Julian!” Cathy Vance’s sharp voice cut through the morning stillness. “Get up, or you’re going to be late for school!”

Jules groaned, swinging a sluggish arm to silence the clock. Another day, another detention. The only thing that got him out of bed was the thrill of causing trouble. Teachers dreaded him, students admired him—at least, the ones who thought his antics were funny. He had turned rebellion into an art form, mastering the timing of snide remarks and pulling off elaborate pranks. Setting off fire alarms during chemistry, filling lockers with glitter, or sneaking fake announcements into the intercom were just typical Jules things.

Beneath his mischievous grin, though, Jules carried a heavy burden he rarely acknowledged. His father’s departure had left more than an empty chair at the dinner table; it had shattered his sense of stability. He hated seeing his mom’s tired eyes as she juggled bills and exhaustion, but he didn’t know how to help—or if she’d even let him.

He buried his feelings under layers of bravado, wearing his "troublemaker" title like armor. He hated asking for help, hated showing weakness. Instead, he doubled down on being the guy who could laugh off anything.

Grabbing his backpack and shrugging on a hoodie, he called, “Love you, Mom!” before rushing out the door without waiting for her reply.

That night, after another detention and a walk home beneath dim streetlights, Jules took a shortcut through an alley. He didn’t see the shadow behind him until it was too late. A sharp pain struck the back of his head, and the world went dark.

Lila "Lily" Matthews

Lily Matthews gripped the sink, her knuckles pale against the porcelain. “You’ve got this,” she whispered, though her reflection seemed unconvinced.

The other voice in her head—the darker, sharper one—was less kind. “They don’t deserve your help, Lily. They’ll just take and leave you empty.”

“Shut up,” she hissed under her breath. Dr. Eva Wilkins had told her that acknowledging the voice was the first step to controlling it. Years of therapy had helped her manage her duality, but some days, her grip felt paper-thin.

From the outside, Lily was the perfect student and model citizen. She organized fundraisers, tutored struggling peers, and volunteered at the community center every weekend. Her classmates called her an angel, but Lily often wondered if they truly saw her.

Her darker side—what she called her second persona—was always lurking. It whispered doubts into her ear, sowed seeds of resentment, and thrived on her exhaustion. Over the years, she’d grown skilled at pretending everything was fine. Even as she crumbled inside, she smiled and said “yes” to every favor.

It wasn’t until she collapsed in her room, sobbing over a math assignment she didn’t even need to finish, that she admitted something was wrong. Dr. Wilkins suggested online classes to ease the pressure, and Lily reluctantly agreed. But even now, the voice wouldn’t leave her alone.

Walking home from therapy that evening, Lily didn’t notice the figure waiting in the shadows. A hand clamped over her mouth, and a sharp prick to her neck stole the world from her.

Bianca "Bree" Navarro

Bianca "Bree" Navarro sprawled across her bed, scrolling through a flood of notifications. Her latest selfie had racked up hundreds of likes, the comments fawning: “Absolute queen!” “Obsessed with you!”

She smirked, tossing the phone aside. Bree had mastered the art of perfection—at least on the surface. Beneath the filters and fake smiles, her world felt hollow.

Her father, Carlos, worked long hours as a mechanic to provide for her. It wasn’t lost on Bree how hard he worked, sacrificing weekends and holidays to keep their modest home afloat. She appreciated it, but it also left her feeling disconnected. The love was there, but the distance between them grew wider with each passing year.

To fill the void, Bree turned to social media. She carefully curated her online persona, crafting the perfect image of a girl who had it all: beauty, popularity, and an endless string of admirers. But it was exhausting, the constant pressure to maintain her image. She couldn’t let anyone see the cracks beneath the surface—the loneliness, the doubt, the longing for something real.

When Ethan entered her life, he shattered her bubble. He didn’t fawn over her or feed into her carefully cultivated ego. Instead, he looked past her exterior, something no one else seemed to bother doing. His indifference rattled her, but it also intrigued her.

That night, as she reapplied her makeup for another party, a knock at the door interrupted her routine. Expecting a friend, she opened it without hesitation. The figure on the other side wore a mask. Bree had no time to scream before darkness enveloped her.

Ethan "E" Calloway

Ethan Calloway doodled in his notebook, ignoring his teacher’s monotone lecture. The superhero in his sketches was everything Ethan wasn’t: brave, bold, and larger than life.

“Ethan,” Max whispered, nudging him. “Lunch. You coming, or are you too busy saving the world?”

Ethan smirked, snapping the notebook shut. Despite his aloof demeanor, Max was one of the few people he let in. Ethan hated the spotlight that came with his natural charisma. People expected him to be confident, but all he wanted was to disappear into his music or art.

Ethan’s life was a quiet rebellion. He avoided parties, ignored trends, and chose solitude over socializing. While others fought for attention, Ethan found comfort in the background, sketching heroes who could conquer worlds and writing lyrics he’d never share.

Music and art were his escapes, but they also served as barriers. Ethan’s parents—successful but emotionally distant—always pushed him toward achievements he didn’t care about. They didn’t understand why he wasn’t excelling like his older siblings or why he spent hours lost in his guitar or sketchpad. Their disapproval weighed on him, even if he rarely showed it.

That night, Ethan strummed his guitar, letting the chords wash over him. A shadow flickered outside his window, followed by the shatter of glass. A masked figure lunged at him, and a sharp pain radiated from his side as the guitar fell silent.

The Game Begins

When Jules woke, the cold, hard floor pressed against his cheek. His head throbbed as he blinked against dim, flickering light.

“Where…?” he muttered, struggling to sit up.

Across the room, a girl with wide eyes hugged herself tightly. She gasped, her voice trembling. “What is this place?”

“Who are you?” Jules demanded.

Before she could answer, a groan echoed from the corner. Ethan stirred, followed by Bree, who shot up in alarm.

“Ethan?” Bree’s voice quivered. “What’s going on?”

Ethan barely had time to reply before a screen on the wall flickered to life. A figure in a mask appeared, twirling a cane.

“Welcome, Players, to Survival’s Edge!” His voice was unnervingly cheerful. “I’m the Masked Manager, your host. Instructions will follow shortly. Good luck!” He ended with a flourish, and the screen went dark.

The four exchanged uneasy glances.

“Anyone else feel like this just got way too real?” Jules muttered.

“What does he mean, ‘players’?” Lila asked, her voice soft. “What kind of game is this?”

Bree’s voice rose, panic creeping in. “Wait, players? Are there others here too?”

The screen lit up again, this time displaying a blood-red message:

Level 1: Trust is Key. Choose a Leader.

You have 10 minutes. Failure to comply will result in elimination.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

“Well,” Jules said with a grim smile, “this should be interesting.”

The room was silent except for the faint mechanical hum of the monitor overhead. Lila "Lily" Matthews stood in the corner, hugging her arms close to her chest. Her wide eyes darted nervously between the glowing countdown timer on the screen and the rest of her team. The seconds ticked away with an almost menacing precision.

On the opposite side of the room, Bianca "Bree" Navarro leaned against the cold, metallic wall, her meticulously manicured fingers absentmindedly twirling a strand of her auburn hair. Despite the casual pose, her sharp eyes betrayed the unease bubbling beneath her polished exterior.

Nearest to the monitor stood Ethan "E" Calloway. His tall frame was stiff, arms folded tightly across his chest as he stared at the screen with a grim expression. He wasn’t one for unnecessary words, but his silence now felt heavier than usual, as though he were calculating every possible scenario.

“Ten minutes?” Jules Vance’s voice broke through the tense quiet. His tone was light, almost playful, but there was a subtle edge to it. “That’s generous.”

“We need to pick someone,” Ethan said flatly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

“No kidding,” Bree shot back, rolling her eyes. “But what does a ‘leader’ even mean in this twisted game? Does it mean we follow them? Or do they take the fall if we screw up?”

“Maybe both,” Lila said hesitantly. Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “What if… what if they’re held responsible for everything we do? Like… punished?”

Jules pushed off the wall he was leaning against and took a deliberate step toward the center of the room. He clasped his hands behind his back, a confident smirk playing on his lips. “Or maybe they get all the glory when we win. Either way, it’s a sweet gig.” He spread his arms dramatically. “I’ll do it.”

Bree let out a sharp laugh. “Of course you’d volunteer. You’re probably already planning some elaborate chaos just to keep yourself entertained.”

“Hey,” Jules replied with mock indignation, “chaos is my specialty. Why fight it?”

“Guys,” Ethan interrupted, his tone stern, “we don’t have time for this. Let’s just vote and get it over with.”

“Fine,” Bree said with an exaggerated sigh. “But my vote’s not for him.” She jabbed a manicured thumb in Jules’s direction.

“And yet,” Jules quipped, unfazed, “I’ll still sleep fine tonight.” He turned to Lila, his expression softening slightly. “What about you, Lily? Got a preference?”

Lila hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. Her gaze flicked to Ethan. “Maybe… maybe Ethan? He seems steady. Like someone who’d make logical decisions.”

Ethan shook his head immediately. “I’m not interested,” he said. “Someone else can take it.”

Jules raised his hands in mock surrender. “Well, that settles it. It’s me. Leadership practically calls my name.”

Bree groaned audibly. “If it shuts you up, fine. But if you screw this up, I swear—”

“Relax,” Jules cut in, flashing a toothy grin. “You’ll thank me later.”

Lila nodded reluctantly. “Okay. Jules… you’re the leader.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, the monitor flickered. A new message scrolled across the screen:

“Leader Selected: Julian Vance.”

Jules let out a low whistle, stepping back with exaggerated pride. “See? Easy peasy. Stick with me, and we’ll make it through this.”

No one had time to respond. From somewhere beyond the room, faint shouts rang out, followed by an unmistakable sound—gunfire.

Room 4: Team 4

Chaos had erupted.

“I’m not following anyone!” Kai Tran shouted, his fists clenched as he paced like a caged animal. His movements were sharp, like someone cornered with no way out.

Sadie Foster stepped forward, her sharp features accentuated by the harsh fluorescent light. Her voice cut through the rising tension like a blade. “And what’s your brilliant plan, genius? Sit here until we all get wiped out?”

Kai turned on her, his glare like daggers. “Better than bowing down to some wannabe boss!”

Mason Blake, standing between the two of them, clenched his jaw. His bulky frame was tense, his fists tightening at his sides. “You want to shut up for once, Kai? Or do you want to die arguing?”

Tara Wells hovered near the edge of the group, her petite frame trembling. Her wide, doe-like eyes darted nervously between the countdown timer and her teammates. “Guys, we need to decide—now. The timer’s almost—”

“Why should I listen to her?” Kai snapped, pointing at Sadie.

“Because I’m the only one here with half a brain,” Sadie shot back. Her voice was dripping with venom, but her hands trembled at her sides.

The timer ticked down to its final 30 seconds. The walls seemed to vibrate with a low hum, as though the room itself were alive and watching.

“Stop fighting!” Tara cried, her voice cracking. “We’re running out of—”

The timer hit zero.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then the walls erupted.

Concealed turrets slid seamlessly from hidden panels, opening fire without hesitation. The deafening roar of gunfire was accompanied by bloodcurdling screams as the team was brutally mowed down.

The room fell silent once more, its gruesome scene a chilling reminder of what failure meant.

Back in Room 5

The muffled sounds of gunfire faded, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake.

“What the hell was that?” Bree whispered, her voice uncharacteristically shaky.

Ethan’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening. “Someone didn’t make it.”

Lila’s knees buckled beneath her, and she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands. “They… they killed them, didn’t they? They really—”

“Probably,” Jules interrupted, his voice softer than usual. “And that’s exactly why we’re not going to mess up. Got it?”

The monitor flickered again, displaying another message:

“Congratulations, Team 5. Leader Julian Vance approved. Proceed to the next stage.”

Jules forced a smirk, though the usual mischief in his eyes was replaced with a glimmer of unease. “See? Told you I’d keep us alive.”

No one responded.

The door at the far end of the room slid open with a mechanical hiss, revealing a narrow corridor bathed in dim, flickering light. The faint hum of electricity buzzed through the air, accompanied by the distant sound of water dripping somewhere unseen.

“Next stage,” Ethan said, his voice steady. He stepped toward the door, his broad shoulders set with purpose.

Bree lingered for a moment, casting one last glance at the room before following.

“Lily?” Jules crouched beside her, his tone softer than before. “You okay?”

Lila lifted her tear-streaked face, her fingers gripping the fabric of her shirt tightly. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be this real.”

“None of us did,” Jules admitted. For once, the bravado in his voice was absent. “But we’ve got each other, okay? Let’s keep it that way.”

She hesitated, then nodded, her trembling hand reaching for his. He helped her to her feet, and together, they followed the others into the corridor.

As the door slid shut behind them, sealing the room with a finality that made Lila’s stomach churn, the monitor flashed one last message:

“Congratulations to Team 5, Team 1, Team 3, and Team 2 for advancing to the second game. Good luck Players.”

The group moved cautiously through the corridor, the oppressive silence pressing in on them from all sides. The flickering lights cast distorted shadows, adding to the surreal atmosphere.

“Whatever’s waiting for us next,” Ethan said, breaking the silence, “we need to be ready. No more second-guessing. No more doubts.”

“Agreed,” Bree said, though her usual sharpness was dulled.

Jules clapped his hands together, the sound echoing through the narrow space. “Alright, team. Let’s show them what we’ve got.”

But as they continued forward, the distant sound of metal scraping against metal sent a chill down Lila’s spine. The game had only just begun.

The center hall was dimly lit, with a single large screen dominating the wall. The four remaining teams, now assembled together, exchanged nervous glances as the countdown for the next phase ticked ominously on the screen. Tension rippled through the room, broken only when the screen crackled to life, and the masked figure of the Manager appeared once again.

"Congratulations to the remaining teams for surviving the first game," the Manager began, his voice cold and emotionless. "But survival is not guaranteed. It is merely earned—one game at a time."

The room remained silent, but the fear and uncertainty were palpable.

"The second game," the Manager continued, "is a test of strategy, endurance, and cunning. It is called Tag."

Murmurs broke out among the teams, some trying to decipher the nature of the game.

The Manager raised a gloved hand, silencing the whispers. "The rules are simple. Two teams will be designated as Hunters and two as Preys. Each team will take turns in both roles. Your goal as Hunters is to tag the opposing team members. Each successful tag scores a point. As Preys, your objective is to survive, evade, and hide until the time runs out. The longer you last without being tagged, the more points you earn."

The teams exchanged wary looks.

"The matchups are as follows," the Manager declared. "Team 3 will be the Hunters against Team 1 as Preys for the first match. Team 2 will be the Hunters against Team 5 as Preys in the second match."

At this, a member of Team 1, unable to contain their frustration, shouted, "This is insane! What kind of—"

The masked Manager’s gaze seemed to pierce through the screen. "Speak out of turn again, and your team will be eliminated immediately," he warned, his voice chillingly calm.

The room fell into a heavy silence. The defiant member from Team 1 shrank back, realizing the severity of their outburst.

The Manager continued as if nothing had happened. "The setting for this game is an abandoned island. Each participant will wear a jacket that tracks their position and registers a tag. You cannot remove it. Once tagged, you are eliminated from the current match. Preys, your time begins when the Hunters are released, and you must survive until the timer runs out. Hunters, your goal is to tag all Preys before the time is up. The game begins now."

Suddenly, the room filled with a faint hiss. A sweet-smelling gas enveloped the contestants, and one by one, they began to collapse.

The Island

Lila woke to the sound of rustling leaves and the salty scent of the sea. Blinking against the glaring sunlight, she realized she was lying on a sandy beach. Her jacket felt heavier than before, a sleek device on her wrist blinking a faint red light. Around her, the rest of Team 5 began to stir.

The island was a mix of raw beauty and eerie desolation. Towering palm trees swayed gently in the ocean breeze, their leaves rustling like whispers in the silence. The sand beneath their feet was coarse and uneven, littered with fragments of seashells and jagged rocks that made every step cautious. The waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, a stark contrast to the tension that hung heavily in the air.

Farther inland, the dense forest loomed, its canopy casting long, shifting shadows on the ground. The foliage was thick and overgrown, with vines hanging low and thorny bushes creating natural barriers. Shafts of sunlight pierced through the trees, illuminating patches of moss-covered ground and the occasional glint of a forgotten metal structure, a relic of the island's mysterious past.

There were sounds, too—unsettling ones. The distant call of unseen birds, the rustle of leaves as small creatures darted through the underbrush, and the faint hum of some mechanical device hidden within the landscape. The air smelled of salt and decay, a mix of the ocean's freshness and something far less natural.

A robotic voice echoed from unseen speakers scattered across the island:

"Match 1: Team 3 (Hunters) versus Team 1 (Preys). The game begins now."

Farther down the beach, Team 1 scrambled into action, darting toward the dense forest. The members of Team 3, identifiable by their blue-trimmed jackets, emerged from another part of the island. They moved with precision, already strategizing.

The robotic voice announced, "Time: 20 minutes. Hunters released in 2 minutes."

Match 1: Team 3 (Hunters) vs. Team 1 (Preys)

Team 1 frantically sought cover in the dense foliage, but their panic betrayed their positions.

"Split up," one of Team 3’s members commanded. "We’ll corner them faster."

Team 3 moved like predators, cutting off escape routes and systematically flushing out their prey.

Team 1’s leader, Mia, tried to rally her group, but fear made coordination impossible. They hid poorly, leaving trails in the sand or moving too loudly in the underbrush.

Within 15 minutes, Team 3 had tagged out every member of Team 1. The robotic voice declared, "Team 3 victorious. Match complete."

Match 2: Team 2 (Hunters) vs. Team 5 (Preys)

Lila’s heart raced as she and her teammates huddled together, hidden in a small cove near the island's edge. The announcement rang out: "Hunters released in 2 minutes."

"Stick together," Ethan said, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to the rising tension. "We have a better chance if we move as a unit."

Jules nodded, though his usual smirk was replaced with a grim determination. "We’ll outlast them. They’ll get impatient."

As the timer hit zero, Team 2 emerged, spreading out in search of their targets.

Team 5 moved cautiously, using the terrain to their advantage. Lila, however, found her breathing erratic. Memories of the earlier elimination resurfaced, and her vision blurred.

Then, something shifted. Her demeanor changed—her eyes sharpened, her posture straightened.

"This way," she whispered, her voice steady and commanding.

Bree noticed the change but followed without question.

Lila led them through a maze of rocky outcroppings and dense vegetation, keeping them out of sight. When Team 2 got close, she orchestrated distractions—breaking branches or tossing rocks to mislead their pursuers.

Despite their efforts, one member of Team 5 was tagged.

"Keep going!" Lila urged, her voice unwavering.

The clock ticked down, and with only two minutes remaining, Lila saw an opportunity. "Split up. They won’t catch us all."

Ethan hesitated but nodded, trusting her judgment.

Team 5 scattered, and Lila, using her heightened instincts, led one of Team 2’s members into a dead end before doubling back.

The timer hit zero.

"Team 5 victorious. Match complete."

The Elimination

The teams were transported back to the center hall. Team 1 stood silently, their heads bowed in defeat.

The Manager appeared on the screen. "Team 3 and Team 5, congratulations. You have passed the second game. Team 2, your performance as Hunters was subpar. However, Team 1, your survival time as Preys was the shortest. You are hereby eliminated."

Before anyone could react, the jackets on Team 1 began to glow. They collapsed, convulsing as electric currents surged through their bodies. The remaining teams could only watch in horror.

When it was over, the Manager’s voice rang out again. "Rest for one hour. Your next challenge awaits."