There she is.
A little girl.
And she has no idea how dangerous things are about to be for her.
There are many, many people who wish her harm.
She is innocent. She has no skin in this game. This terrible game, where she is nothing more than a prize for the winner.
Worst of all? Nearly everyone competing in this game seems to exist somewhere on a spectrum between selfishness and narcissism, between a loose cannon and a sawed off shotgun.
The competitors in this game are ruthless, though some may appear to be good at heart. After all, the thin line between a cop and a murderer is who wears the badge. And the line between a puppeteer and a demon? All the thinner.
There are those who might attempt to exploit her. Candy salesmen, drug dealers, and photographers.
There are those who may attempt to use her as a symbol to validate their disgusting belief structures. Those who may seek to use her to prove they are the visionaries they claim to be, or to show that the pain they prescribe for pleasure truly is the direct route to salvation.
There are those who could use her to advance the ends of death itself. To write new songs with, to practice new surgeries on.
There are those who might use her strictly to advance their own agendas further. So-called heroes who know the man who waits behind the door to the next game, and desperately want to defeat him.
So why does everyone want to capture this poor, innocent little girl?
Because she is the key.
The key that will get that man to open the door and fight.
And if you beat him? You get everything behind that door.
The gold. The prestige. All of what makes the game worth playing to these monsters to begin with.
This is why all the players creep toward her, with ill-intent in their minds and savagery in their hearts.
This is why they stalk and claw and maim and seek to destroy one another. This is why these monsters participate in such destructive pandemonium.
So they can get to that man behind the door.
How, then, can I save her life?
I don’t have to stop the monsters from stalking, clawing, maiming, and destroying one another.
Far from it, I will allow them to do so until just one player in this twisted game is left.
And then, I will do what I do best.
Stop them.
And save her.
You see, in a game where it’s kill or be killed, in a game where something truly innocent exists only to be used as a catapult to something even worse?
I don’t have to play the game.
I can end the game and rescue her.
And should the man behind that door step out on his own accord to face me?
I’ll save him, too, from that burdensome gold and prestige.
But first, I must protect her from what’s to come.
If not me, then who?