best character
It was just after the first game. The room was tense, filled with hushed whispers and silent tears. You sat on the bed furthest from everyone else, trying to make yourself invisible. Blood stains marred your face, a macabre reminder of what you'd just survived. Though your heart raced beneath your stoic façade, you forced your expression to remain blank. If you appeared unfazed, maybe no one would bother you.
But your silence didn't last long.
A shadow fell over you, and you glanced up to see him—the man everyone had been flocking to earlier. The one they called "Thanos." His striking purple hair was tousled like he'd run his hands through it too many times. A lazy, almost predatory grin played on his lips as he tilted his head, his piercing gaze locking onto yours.
“Well, well,” he drawled, his voice deep and smooth, tinged with amusement. “Hiding all the way back here, are you? Smart move. But…” He leaned in slightly, his presence overpowering as he lowered his voice, “...you don’t look like the type who scares easy. Am I wrong?”
You didn’t answer, instead shifting slightly to put a bit more distance between the two of you. His grin only widened, as if your reaction entertained him.
“Silent treatment, huh? I get it. Big day. A lot of… mess,” he said, gesturing vaguely to the room and the bloodied survivors scattered across it. “But I couldn’t help noticing you during the game.”
Your eyes snapped to his, despite your best efforts to remain indifferent. His gaze was intense, but not cruel. It was like he was studying you, trying to figure you out.
“You kept your cool out there,” he continued, dropping onto the bed beside you uninvited. “Not many people did. I like that.”
“I wasn’t trying to impress anyone,” you muttered, finally breaking your silence.
His grin turned into a smirk, and he chuckled. “Oh, sweetheart, I’m not saying you were. That’s what makes it impressive.” He leaned back on his hands, utterly at ease despite the chaos surrounding you both. “People like us? We’re the ones who survive. The ones who keep our heads while everyone else loses theirs—literally.”
You felt a chill at his words, though his tone was almost playful. “People like us?” you repeated skeptically.
He shrugged. “You’ve got that look in your eye. Like you’ve seen some things. Like you’re not here because you want to be but because you have to be. Am I close?”
You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response.
“Alright, keep your secrets,” he said with a wink. “But if you ever get tired of sitting over here all by your lonesome, you know where to find me.” He pushed himself up, brushing imaginary dust off his pants.
“Thanos,” someone called from across the room, but he didn’t move immediately. Instead, he bent down slightly, just enough so only you could hear him.
“Careful out there, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “The quiet ones? They’re always the most dangerous. I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”
With that, he straightened and sauntered away, leaving you to sit in the aftermath of his words, wondering if his attention was a blessing or a curse.
🥀
The vote had been tense. Faces twisted with desperation and fear as each player stepped forward, casting their decision to end the games or continue. The number on the screen fluctuated wildly, the room collectively holding its breath.
And then it was over.
A slim majority had chosen to stop, their hopes pinned on the idea that freedom would somehow make them whole again. But you and a small, determined group—including him—had pressed the button to continue.
You didn’t know why you’d done it. Maybe it was the debt that had driven you here in the first place, the crushing weight of a life that had no real chance outside these walls. Maybe it was something darker—an acknowledgment that, as horrible as the games were, they felt like the only place where you had control.
As the others filtered out, some weeping, others silent, you remained behind. You sat in the same spot as before, your body rigid, your expression unreadable.
“Guess I was right about you,” came a familiar voice, cutting through the quiet.
You looked up to see Thanos leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, his grin as lazy and predatory as ever. His purple hair was damp with sweat, a faint bruise darkening his cheekbone, but he looked as unbothered as ever.
“What do you want?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.
He chuckled, stepping closer until he was towering over you. “What, no ‘thank you’ for the vote of confidence? We’re on the same team now, sweetheart.”
“I didn’t vote for you.”
“No,” he agreed, crouching down to meet your gaze. “You voted for yourself. Just like me.” His grin softened into something almost genuine. “I like that about you. You don’t sugarcoat things. You know what you want, and you go for it.”
You frowned, unsure how to respond. His attention was unnerving, but there was something about the way he carried himself—so brazen, so sure of himself—that made it hard to look away.
“Why are you here?” you asked, your tone even.
“Same reason as you,” he said, sitting on the bed beside you without waiting for an invitation. “The outside world isn’t exactly rolling out the red carpet for people like us. In here? Sure, it’s a nightmare, but at least it’s a nightmare we can control.”
You glanced at him, his words striking uncomfortably close to home. “You think you can control this?”
“Not all of it,” he admitted, his grin returning. “But enough. And the parts I can’t? That’s what makes it fun.”
You shook your head, muttering, “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” he said, unfazed. “But if you’re gonna be stuck in a madhouse, wouldn’t you rather be with someone who knows how to play the game?”
His gaze locked onto yours, the intensity in his eyes catching you off guard. “Stick with me,” he said, his voice dropping. “You’ve got the brains, and I’ve got the charm. Together? We’d be unstoppable.”
For a moment, you considered telling him to leave, to let you be. But something about his confidence—the way he spoke like he’d already won—made you pause. Maybe having someone like him around wouldn’t be the worst thing.
“Fine,” you said finally, your voice low. “But if you get in my way, I won’t hesitate to take you out.”
His grin widened, and he let out a low, appreciative laugh. “That’s the spirit, sweetheart. I knew I liked you for a reason.”
He leaned back on his hands, completely at ease despite the tension hanging in the air. “Let’s make this interesting, shall we?”
And for the first time, you felt the faintest flicker of hope—though whether it was for survival or the thrill of proving him wrong, you couldn’t say.
