December 24th, 2178. Naara City. Boreal District. Evening Social Bar.
A figure covered in a thick large cloak slept on the counter of the bar. Its hood went over their head and covered them entirely.
"Oi, pal! Can you pick some place else to sit! This isn't a hotel!"
A bar goer went to the figure and said. The person squirmed a little bit but didn't move.
The bartender strode over. "I wouldn't bother Mick if I were you."
"What are you even on about? Hey, can you move elsewhere! I need to sit with my friends!"
The man grabbed the shoulder of the figure. Their skin was extremely soft.
"A woman?"
'Mick' lifted her head up to reveal a beautiful face underneath the hood. She had short hair that reached her air. One side was shaved close to the skin while the rest of the hair fell to the other side.
"Meet Michaela." The bartender continued to polish his glass. "You should go, pal."
"Hey, girl. Can you move? I told you that I need…"
Mick kicked the into the groin of the man causing him to bend forward. His face went red.
"You?!"
Mick spread her hand and used the palm to strike the nose of the man. The drunken man fell backward and laid flat on his back.
"Get him out of here, Jack." Mick waved to the bartender.
Jack nodded and called the security to carry the man out.
"Give me two shots of whiskey." Mick raised two fingers up.
"You need to stop drinking, Mick…"
Michaela raised an eyebrow which made Jack shrink back.
"Okay. Okay. Two shots of whiskey. Don't hit me."
"Good boy."
Jack quickly slid two glasses of whiskey to Mick.
"Oh, right. Someone sent a letter to you."
Jack pulled an envelope out and placed it on the bar counter. It had a wax with an eye symbol.
"Who sent this?" Mick grabbed it and examined the carefully made wax seal. This wasn't cheap. Whoever sent this to her was rich or influential.
"Beats me!" Jack shrugged. "The envelope just appeared on the table earlier with your name on it."
"Hmmm."
Charles, Hal, and Mick opened their envelopes at the same time. Each was in their own world when that happened.
Charles in his psychic office. Hal in his small apartment. And Mick in her favorite bar.
All of the letters had the same content within them.
"YOU ARE INVITED TO THE GAME OF DESTINY - C.A."
"CA? What are these initials? What is the game of destiny?"
Mick blinked her eyes in confusion then showed Jack the letter.
"Is it a new gameshow or reality TV series or something?" Jack said.
"I've never heard about it. I didn't register to appear in any gameshow as well." Mick said.
Jack showed the letter to another bartender. "Have you ever heard about this?"
He also shrugged in confusion. No one knew why the letter appeared and why it had come to the possession of Mick.
December 24th, 2178. Naara City. Desmal District. Anthro Building.
"Game of destiny? What is this nonsense? Is someone trying to mess with me?" Charles pondered.
December 24th, 2178. Naara City. Samael District. Apartment Complex.
"An invitation? Is this an exclusive club?!" Hal jumped in his bed in joy. "But where are their contact details? Why don't you even give me a location?!"
Many more envelopes were mysteriously sent to eight different people in Naara City. All of them haven't the faintest clue what was awaiting them in the night.
A dream of life and death. A dream that was so real that it was no different than reality. A waking dream.
Doctor Curio Avaline stood behind the curtains and watched the event play out with a smile. With Fate, he could pinpoint the exact players that would benefit him and his game. With Truth, he created the envelopes and the connections required to drag them into his nightmare. With Chaos, all rules and laws of the physical world were bypassed, allowing these supernatural events to happen.
"Let the game begin!"
That night. The players went to their sleep.
Charles Iris tucked inside his large king-size bed.
Hal Blanc in his small bed in the apartment.
Mick in a random motel that she found near the bar.
They closed their eyes and in that moment, their minds were pulled into the playground.
Dr. Avaline named this playground, and also the name of the game, Traitor Town.
Charles felt a pull like he was falling down a bottomless hole. His eyes shot wide open to see himself sleeping in a shabby wooden house, laying on a straw bed that was too uncomfortable. The hay bit into his skin.
Charles sat up immediately and looked around.
"What in the world?!" He blurted out.
Charles noticed the sleeves of his shirt were different. He looked down at himself and saw that he was wearing a worn-out tunic of the Middle Age. Beneath was a pair of brown pants.
Charles sat up and breathed into his hand, smelling his own breath.
"No chemicals. So they didn't drug me via mouth. It must be some sort of injection."
Charles checked his entire body. Nothing. No injuries. No signs of injection.
"A type of gas, maybe?" Charles rolled his eyes and thought deeply. He didn't panic. His mind already thought about who might kidnap him and why they led him to this place.
Charles walked to the shabby wooden door. The door was in such a bad condition that Charles could see to the outside via the holes on it. There were no locks on the door, only a wooden bar in the middle.
"The doorbar is locked from the inside?!"
Charles turned his back immediately and observed the room he was in.
A small room with a fire in the middle and a metal pot on top. A straw bed in the side of the room and nothing else.
There were no places for anyone to hide.
"So they locked the door from the outside. With a wire I can also do that by slipping it through the cracks of the door and pulling the door bar over. But why are these theatrics?"
Charles removed the wooden bar and opened the door. The light of daytime blinded his eyes.