I have confirmed that this is Hell: the vile bat-creature I killed came back to life after I finished my last report.
I gave it another round with the Mauser, until it shouted, quite unexpectedly, "You cannot kill me! The Game Master gave me life and only he can take it away!"
I paused then, because what he was saying had become self-evident: the bat-creature could not permanently die. Probably an effect of being the spawn of demons or something of that sort.
The bat-creature then tried, as its bullet wounds healed, to explain to me the rules of this "game" that I was now to play: the players are provided with places to trade and with places to heal, but there must only be one winner. And anyone who isn't the winner must be dead.
At that, I realized that I was not quite as dead as I had previously supposed. If I could die in Hell, I must not already be dead.
This did not, however, invoke in me a longing to win this "game" the creature spoke of. No, I am seventy-one years of age - it would not be right of me to be the winner of this vile game. That belongs to one who has a future.
I had already resigned myself to being dead, so dead I shall remain, in mind if not in body.
Then I suggest the same thing I suggested to a couple other people I ran across who were sucked into this foul game. Try to team up with anyone who can be persuaded to do so and take the fight to this Game Master instead of fighting each other. Lets face it, the worst case scenario of teaming up remains the same as the worst case scenario of everyone trying to kill each other - you all wind up dead. you can't trust the ones that aren't human though. Or for that matter some of them that allegedly are.
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