The days sort of blurred together now. Wake up, die over and over again, go to sleep (if you were ever lucky). It was the same routine over and over. It became a pattern that was learned and hated. He didn't hate it all too much. What he hated was his luck. Each flip of that coin was its own gamble. It was unpredictable. Unpredictable like Guest 1337.

Guest 1337 was one of those types of guys you didn't get the chance to study, to learn the patterns and habits of. On the field, in rounds, he was cold and ready to lay down his life for the rest of the survivors. But outside of that? Well the fact they were sitting on the porch of the main cabin, sharing a Bloxxy Cola should say enough.

The cola fizzed in the aluminum can, condensation dripping onto the weathered wood of the porch. The distant sounds of the battlefield echoed faintly in the distance, but here, for this moment, there was only the sound of their quiet conversation and the rustle of wind through the trees.