Grasping for lifes hold (Solo)

A familiar sound made his eyes opened as a guards baton scraped against the prison bars that kept him trapped in the solitary open air room. His bed uncomfortable and taped down to keep the springs from poking up. He let a yawn out as he stuggled to open his eyes. He looked to the other bed that shared the room, but then he remembered the man died on the course long ago. It was a sad memory, but he sealed it inside him, as he pushed himself.

He suited up as he pulled his suit from the ground puting it on as he stripped naked and slid it over his skin. He had done the course 9 times now, this could be his last. He looked to the wall that his bed lay against. 9 Marks stood. He scraped it again finally using his small razor. Now lay 10. A feeling of happyness soared over him. He was actually more motivated now.

Another guard did his rounds as he opened the doors. "Get out, it's time!", the guard quickly passed it after he wacked the bars with his batton. He followed the mans rude instruction, as he walked his weak legs out of the cell gate.

He armed himself mentally as he walked slowly. The other men followed in identical suits pushed onto their skin. Some rushed eagerly he was experienced enough to know this was their first time, but he didn't say anything or much less warn them. He had been quiet since the day he arrived hear. He had pledged somewhat of an oath. An oath of silence. That was unknown how long it would last.

The men crowded around him, as they pushed and shoved. He retaliated back as he easily pushed men back being one of the first to flood into the room that was huge and was laid out like a square. Men looked around curiosly as they talked loudly and annoyingly amongst themselves. He shook his head a little, but immediately the door opened to the room, as the men charged forward recklessly.

"ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ"

A buzzsaw popped up, as it sawed the frontline of men up. Some of their now dead bodys continued to roll forward as some of the other man stopped fast. Ringan jumped forward over the saw, as the platform he was previously standing on began to give way. He landed recklessly, as he landed by one of the dead sawed up bodies. The ground shook under him, as it began to be unstable, he rolled forward now soaked in life fluid.

Some more men progressed, as some men died and fell to the darkness below. Cries beckoned for help as they fell foward even more. Ringan could feel nothing for them except pity, as he pushed himself forward avoiding the saws as the platform gave way behind him. I have to keep going, he told himself as he kept sprinting even with his legs aching and burning as he used up the synovial fluid to lubricate his joints long ago.

He followed the men, determined, not ready to quit after all he had been through. He jumped and avoided as the saws pushed up, but then he saw he was definately fucked. Fire, bladed pendulums and saws lined the road before him. He felt the ground shake below him. He jumped immediately rolling under the fire that blew horizontally, like a limbo stick. He pushed off his feet, feeling the ache. The pendulum now came as he rolled past it, now having an obvious rip in his suit, yet somehow luckly uncut. He wasn't sure if god existed, or if it was just lady luck.

The saws sprung up and popped down, he examined it, then followed the trail perfectly. Suddenly he had forgotten about the platform though. It shook as he took a desperate leap off of it. His body fell as he yelled. But he caught the edge of the next connected platform, latching onto dear life. He lifted his body up, with his hand pulling himself over, as he sprinted again. More blood soaked up ahead as he saw a huge saw. He took a running start as he ended up above the saw outjumping the height. Suprisingly the course was ironically over and only the most elite had survived, most were probably veterans, some scared noobies. He let a deep sigh out, it was over.