Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

ILLARI

Over 400 people in the games, and all of us claim to be in the same boat. All of us claim to need the money more than the other. What makes one person's reason equitable to another?

…Nothing. But everyone will contend that their justification is superior; more worthy.

That couldn't be further from the truth.

Illari couldn’t refrain from prying into other players' situations as she isolated herself on the bunk she had awoken in. She was good at staying quiet; keeping to herself. Sheconcluded that a majority of players seemed to be deep in an inescapable debt. Others craved riches, and some remained closed off, unwilling to reveal their reason for playing. A few groups were forming - some people seemed to have joined the games together, which was certainly an advantage.

But Illari was here alone, and she preferred to keep it that way. All she had to do was play a few games, and the money was hers. Easy enough. It had been a few hours since she had awoken in her bunk, confused yet determined. They had been provided with a sound meal of boiled chicken, potatoes, and vegetables. They had signed a waiver, containing no more than three rules:

A player may not voluntarily forfeit the games
Refusal to play will result in elimination
The games may be terminated through a majority vote

She didn't think too much of it - events like these always required a form of signed consent; Not that she had ever participated in one. Illari closely observed as cliques formed, and old friends reunited once more. A surprising amount of players seemed to know one another already.

A loud altercation to her right drew her attention. She inched forward, peering around the rows of bunks to get a better look at the situation.

A large man donning a hideous scarlet pompadour had player 167’s collar tightly in his grip. Two of his lackeys stood behind him, snickering rather childishly. A large circle was beginning to form around them. The man shouted, spittle flying from his mouth, “The fuck are you doin’ here, huh? Expect to pay me back with easy earned money? You think these games will save you from your debt?”

167 trembled in his grip, struggling to situate his glasses higher up his nose while confined to the man’s grip. “I-I had no other choice! I was fired from my job, and you gave me a deadline, Groose. What was I supposed to do?”

Groose snorted, throwing the boy to the ground roughly. “Any money you earn here goes to me. You understand, Fairfield?”

His lackeys chuckled out annoying ‘yeah’s’ and other quips as they paraded around 167.

167 quivered, cowering away from Groose. “But,” He stuttered, “I only have to give you enough to pay you back for-”

Groose silenced him with a blow to the jaw. His fist cracked loudly against bone, causing the crowd to wince. “Any money you win goes to me,” He repeated, “Then you’d better work your ass off to pay me again with your own funds.”

Nothing about that deal was fair. Illari narrowed her eyes, resisting the urge to step in. This wasn’t her fight - it was best if she stayed out of it. Before things could escalate, a pair of two masked employees dressed in bright pink jumpsuits separated them, placing them on opposite sides of the room to prevent any more fights. 167 slunk down to the floor, holding his bruised jaw in the palm of his hand.

…Was money truly this important to people? …Illari was here herself, so she cut the engine on that train of thought. She knew how dangerous thoughts could be.

-----

CHAZ MCFREELY

“222, 223, 224, and 225,” Summer read, pointing to the number on each of her friend’s jackets, including her own. Chaz watched, enamored by her interest in the games.

Travis smiled, slinging an arm around her shoulders. Chaz finally looked away. Travis said, “They knew better than to split us up. I just wish they’d give us our phones.” His hands were tense, and a purple vein was beginning to surface on his neck.

Summer giggled, leaning into him. “I gotta admit, I’m not a fan of these tracksuits. They couldn’t have let me wear a skirt or something?”

Liberty intervened, wringing her hands nervously. “...Are you guys not worried?” She asked.

Travis chuckled lightly. “Why would we be worried?”

“Well, because we have no memory of getting here. At all. Our clothes are gone - all of our belongings. Gone.”

Chaz interjected, “They don’t want us to cheat. Gotta keep the games fair, right?”

“I guess so,” Liberty mumbled. “Something just feels… off. If we’re just playing a few games for some money, then how come the staff are so secretive? They won’t tell us where we are, what we’re going to be playing… You’re not afraid?”

“Nope,” Travis replied, “Not at all. C’mon guys, we got this. Professor Rosalyn is counting on us.”

Summer added, “And with the four of us working together, I’m sure we-” her gaze trailed behind Chaz, and she released a cheery gasp. “Luke? Flipper?” She skipped forward, pulling both of them into a hug. “What are you two doing here?”

The sound of his name caused Chaz’s body to have a visceral reaction. Even the sound of his voice caused him to cringe.
Luke laughed, calm and collected. “Was just gonna ask you the same thing. Not that I’m not stoked to see you, cause I am.”

Chaz reluctantly turned around, facing Luke. There he was, arms around Summer. His shaggy blonde hair hung in his eyes, and he continuously flicked his head back to clear his vision. He looked incredibly stupid. Flipper was there as well, but his presence didn’t sway Chaz one way or another. He watched, refraining from insulting Luke to keep Summer content.

Flipper ran a hand through his hair, parting it with his fingers as he spoke. “Funds at the boardwalk are getting pretty low. If I can’t come up with enough money to pay the bills, I’ll have to close down the poolhouse.” He frowned, a dejected look in his eyes.

Luke sighed loudly. “Yeah. Same with my Surf Shop. I’ve taken out way too many loans. I’m drowning in debt.”

“Oh no,” Summer replied, giving them both another small hug. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Nah, it’s cool.” Luke waved his hand. “I’m sure these games won’t be too hard, right?”

Chaz scoffed, causing the others to look in his direction.

“Long time no see,” Luke flashed a crooked smile.

Chaz rolled his eyes. It was irritating, not being able to hide his facial expressions with his aviators. “Yeah, not long enough.”

Luke laughed, jamming his thumb in Chaz’s direction. “This guy, I tell ya.”

Summer asked, “Chaz, would it kill you to be nice for once?”

Before he had the chance to retaliate, an alarm blared, causing a majority of players to clasp their hands over their ears. A group of staff dressed in pink had entered, standing at the head of the room. Eager for more information, the players gathered in a group before them.

“Welcome,” The masked staff said, “The first game will begin momentarily. Before we begin, there are a few things we’d like to note.” He gestured skyward. Chaz redirected his attention toward the ceiling, where a large glass piggy bank began to descend.

“The funds,” the staff explained, “Will appear in here after the first game. The more players that are eliminated, the larger the sum of the cash prize.”

Chaz’s eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the bank. It was a pretty large container - a crazy amount of money could fit in that thing; way more than enough to keep the school running.

He felt the edge of an elbow, and looked to see Flipper nudging him. “Do you see how big that is? Is that whole thing gonna be filled with money?”

Chaz looked upwards once more. “Seems like we’re banking on people failing these games in order to get the money up.”

Flipper nodded. “Yeah?” He reached for Luke and Summer, who were standing just beside him. “Maybe we should stick together then, huh?”

Summer nodded in approval.

“I mean,” Chaz folded his arms in defiance, “We kinda already have a group.” He gestured to himself, Travis, Summer, and Liberty. “Not that Travis and Lib are good teammates, but we came here together.”

“Chaz,” Summer retaliated, “It’ll probably be easier to get farther if we have a bigger group. If one of us gets eliminated, then the others still have a chance to bring the money back for all of us.”

Chaz avoided her gaze; she was impossible to decline.

“Hey,” Luke said, gaining Chaz’s attention, “We wanna help.”

Chaz shot a glare in Luke’s direction. Things were a lot simpler before he knew Luke was here, too. Now, the fire fueling his motivations was burning even brighter. He would be sure to come out on top.

An announcement commenced over the loudspeakers, instructing the players to follow the staff to the first location.

---

LUKE

Luke trailed at the end of the group, just behind Flipper. Awaiting them outside of the bunks was a room filled with seemingly unending staircases. Each staircase was a different bright, pastel color. If Luke hadn’t been so fond of beach tones, his eyes would have been burning.

The staff led them to an area lined with multiple photo booths. They instructed the players to step in front of the lens, get their picture taken for identification purposes, then continue up the staircases. Luke watched as his friends each took their turn in front of the lens; Liberty and Chaz refused to smile. Travis smiled along with Summer, whose picture undoubtedly came out flawless. Flipper grinned from ear to ear, waiting for Luke on the other side. Luke stepped evenly with the lens, making sure his feet were square before looking into the camera. He smiled laxly, holding up the shaka sign just before the flash went off. He rejoined his group of friends, following behind them once more as they continued toward the first location.

After the confusion of waking up with no memory of arriving had worn off, Luke was actually beginning to enjoy himself. He was here with his friends, and they got to hang out and compete in some fun games to win some cash! What’s not to love? Even if he was eliminated in an early challenge, it would still be a fun experience to look back on.

The hallway led to a set of green double doors. The room was dark, so the light that filtered in once the doors opened caused Luke to squint, shielding his eyes with his arm. The mass of players headed out into the open area, where the staff instructed them to stand behind the white line.

Luke brushed his shoulder against Flippers, squeezing between him and Summer behind the white line.

“What… is this?” Flipper breathed, staring out at the open space before them.

The area was large, walled off with tall slabs painted to look like the sky. The roof was open, and the sun beat down on them, which was nothing Luke wasn’t used to. At the far end of the sandy clearing sat a huge doll of some sort, turned to face a large statue of a tree. Above the tree sat a timer, frozen at five minutes. Staff dressed in pink lined either side.

“No clue, dude,” Luke replied, squinting to get a better look at the strange doll-like figure towering over them.

An announcement came over the loudspeakers, announcing that the first game was ‘Red Light Green Light.’

Luke chuckled, along with a large majority of players. “Seriously?” He asked, looking over at Flipper. “I thought the games would be at least a little harder than red light green light.”

Flipper smiled. “Hey, this is the best case scenario. Easy money! That prize is as good as ours.”

The voice over the loudspeakers repeated the rules for the game multiple times, explaining that when the doll’s back was turned, you were free to move to the other side. When she turns around, you must stop, or you will be eliminated from the game.

Flipper, who was a stickler for rules, began quietly muttering them under his breath as they were being explained.

“Hey,” Luke assured him, “It’s easy. No way we lose this.”

Flipper nodded, eagerly leaning forward on his toes as he prepared to run.

A mechanical whirring sound soared across the clearing. The timer began ticking down. The game had begun.

“Green light!”

At once, the entire group of players began running forward, charging toward the finish line.

“Red light!”

Everyone stopped in sync. Luke could see Flipper just a few feet ahead of him, holding still. He held in a laugh. It had been so long since he’d played a game like this.

“Green light!”

Once again, the players began moving. Chaz was nearly leading the pack, hustling to be the first one over the finish line.

“Red light!”

Everyone came to a halt. Player 312, who was directly beside Chaz, stumbled and had to widen her step in order to stay on her feet.

The loudspeaker announced, “Player 312, eliminated.”

312 sighed, and began making her way to stand off to the side. Before she could take more than a few steps, an earsplitting crack rang across the clearing, resulting in surprised shouts and gasps from the other players. Before Luke even had time to process what was happening, a bullet buried itself into 312’s head, killing her instantly. She slumped to the ground, no more than five inches away from Chaz. Blood began to seep from her wound, soaking Chaz’s shoes. He couldn’t tear his eyes away, transfixed on the horrifying situation unfolding in front of him.

Chapter Text

LUKE

Panic ensued. Screaming, running, chaos. After seeing what being ‘eliminated’ truly meant, players began racing for the doors, attempting to pry them open to no avail. Luke refused to look back. Gunshots began firing in rapid succession, one after the other. His pulse quickened, beating rapidly. He couldn’t look around to see if his friends were safe. He could hear the blood roaring in his ears.

Don’t move. Don’t move. Don’t move.

“Luke!” Flipper’s petrified voice rose over the gunshots. He turned around, coming face to face with Luke. “We gotta get out of here!” His face was ghostly pale.

He moved. Flipper was moving. Tingles of panic scurried across the base of Luke’s neck. A pit of impending doom dropped into his stomach. Flipper was going to die. “Stop,” Luke sternly stated, speaking as much as he could while keeping his mouth still. “Stop moving.”

Flipper began hyperventilating, whipping his head from side to side as he watched other players being killed around them. “You’re seriously still playing the game? Come on!” Flipper gripped onto Luke’s shoulders. “We have to get out of here. Oh, god… There’s blood. There’s so much blood…”

Luke stared at Flipper, his gaze steady. He heard his friends' words, and he heard them well. It was a disturbing sight, but he knew that any movement meant certain death. Maybe there was still time. Maybe through all of the commotion, they wouldn’t notice that Flipper had moved if he froze now. “Stop. Moving.” Luke repeated, becoming desperate.

Flipper shook his head. “ Luke, seriously. I-I can’t do this! We’re all gonna-” Flipper’s words fell off into a strangled gurgle as a bullet placed itself directly in the side of his neck. A spray of blood flecked across Luke’s face, but he refused to flinch.

Flipper’s fingers tightened around Luke’s shoulders, desperately grasping with any remaining strength. Blood trickled from his open mouth, falling steadily down the front of his jacket. Tears welled up in his eyes. He slumped forward, falling flush against Luke’s chest.

Luke pressed his lips together tightly, bracing himself to keep his limbs as still as possible as his closest friend’s blood slathered his front. He wanted nothing more than to hold him; to comfort him in his final moments. But he couldn't, not without facing certain death. He needed to live, but watching his closest friend die while pleading for his life was worse than any fate waiting for him in the games.

“Help me,” Flipper’s haggard voice squealed. He pleaded, hugging himself closer to Luke. “Luke, please… Help me-” Another gunshot. His grip loosened completely, and he slumped to the floor face-up. His eyes were wide, propped open with fear and agony. A pool of blood widened around his head. His arm was strewn over Luke’s feet.

Luke forbade himself to look at him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as fearful tears trickled down his cheeks. His hands began to tremble; he couldn’t stabilize them. Could the guards see his trembling hands? Was he their next victim? …Maybe it was worth it. To move now, and join Flipper in his grisly fate. He braced himself for a bullet, but none came. What was he to do then? Scream for the loss of his friend? Allow them to put a bullet in his head and end the treachery for good? No. He couldn’t. It’s not what Flipper would want him to do.

…How many players remained? An absurd amount of gunshots had gone off, meaning a large number of players must have been eliminated. He focused on steadying himself and his breathing, but the image of Flipper’s pleading face kept his sorrowful heart racing. He could hear Summer’s timid whimpers behind him, and a wave of relief tied him over for a brief moment, until silence filled the air. The gunshots had stopped. Though nobody was making a sound, the chaos of the moment had yet to subside. His thoughts were far too loud to allow him a moment of calm.

Luke slowly opened his eyes, watching as the doll turned its head back around. This no longer felt like an amusing game; it was a death sentence.

“Green light!”

…Nobody moved. Luke stayed frozen, aside from his limbs which were shaking uncontrollably. He saw Chaz slowly turn around to face the horrors behind him. He was trembling as well, so he folded his arms into one another to stop any visible movement. Luke did the same. He saw a moment of repose cross Chaz’s expression at the sight of his friends, who were still alive.

The timer was still ticking - only two minutes remained. They were still far from the finish line. They would have to move quickly if it meant making it to the finish line with their lives. Chaz stepped over the dead body at his feet, and slowly began walking backwards. “Keep moving,” He urged his friends, beckoning them forward. “Go slow. Don’t look at anyone else. Keep your eyes on me.”

“Red light!”

He halted abruptly, then made eye contact with Luke. Luke couldn’t settle his breathing, but knowing that he could trust Chaz helped him to ease up a bit, despite the circumstances.

“Green light!”

Chaz turned back around, booking it toward the finish.

Move. Move. He had to move now, or it would be too late. Reluctantly, Luke freed his feet from beneath the weight of Flipper’s limp limbs. “I’m sorry,” He quietly keened, gently stepping over his body and pushing himself forward. He took one last glimpse at Flipper before leaving him behind. Everyone else began to move as well, running for their lives.

“Red light!”

More gunshots. More screaming. More blood. One minute left; he wasn’t going to make it.

“Green light!”

He took off, pumping his arms and running as fast as his feet would take him. Chaz crossed the finish line, and a few players followed suit. Was the clock moving faster?

“Red light!”

A player was shot just a few feet to his left - so close he could hear the whiz of the bullet. Forty seconds. Sweat slicked Luke’s hair to his forehead, dripping steadily down his face. You’re almost there. The end is in sight.

“Green Light!”

He ran, moving faster than he had ever moved in his lifetime. He jumped over the finish line, doubling over on his hands and knees, heaving for breath. He was safe. Relief allowed him a moment to let his guard down. Somehow, he had made it out alive.
Suddenly, he heard Summer cry out from within the field. He snapped his head up. Player 009 had shoved her to the floor, using the momentum to take himself over the finish line.

“Red Light!”

He heard Chaz shout a slew of obscenities, confronting the player about the backhanded play.

“Summer!” Travis cried, watching from behind the finish line. She was curled up on the floor, trembling as the clock ticked down. Twenty seconds remaining.

…She wasn’t gonna make it.

“Green Light!”

All Luke could do was watch as Summer struggled to regain her footing as players nearly trampled her. He swallowed, staring in horror as Summer was once again pushed to the ground. She cried for people to stop, but panic disallowed them to think of anyone other than themselves.

…No. Not again. I just lost Flipper. I can’t lose you, too.

Suddenly, Chaz shoved past Luke and broke out into a run, heading back onto the field with no regard for his safety. He impelled through frantic players until he reached Summer, and helped pull her to her feet. “I got you. I got you, we gotta move.” He kept a hold on her arm, helping pull her toward the finish.

“Red Light!”

Ten seconds.

Luke pushed himself to his feet, ready to help them cross the finish. He wasn’t leaving here without them. Not after everything they had endured.

“Green Light!”

“Come on!” Travis howled, beckoning them forward.

Chaz and Summer broke off into a run once more.

Three seconds.

Luke reached his arm out past the finish line. Chaz clasped tightly to his hand and with one powerful tug, Luke pulled them both over the finish line, just as the buzzer signaled the end of the game. The three of them fell in a heap on the sandy ground, chests heaving with heavy breaths. Summer’s sorrowful sobs made it even more difficult for her to catch her breath.

A spray of bullets hissed through the air, eliminating the rest of the players who were unable to cross the finish line in time. Summer yelped in fear, hiding her face with her hands.

“Summer!” Travis slid to his knees, landing at her side. “Oh my god, Summer…”

She sat up, collapsing into Travis’s arms. He held her securely, looking over her shoulder at Chaz and Luke. “...Thank you. Both of you.”

Chaz shook his head, unable to look Travis in the eye.

Luke sat up on his knees, facing the sea of bodies before him. Nearly the entire ground was stained red. He could make out Flipper, still lying face-up near the starting line.

“Oh, god,” Luke mumbled, the shock of the game finally hitting him. He rubbed his chin, feeling his emotions begin to take the reins. A small sob escaped his throat, as his eyes fixated on Flipper’s limp body. “Oh god…” He repeated once more. Tears began to roll down his cheeks, cutting through the blood that stained his face.

…Maybe he should have tried to escape with Flipper. Then he wouldn’t be stuck here, tormented by what was yet to come.

Chapter Text

CILAN

Everyone had been driven into hysterics; that included Cilan and his brothers, who remained huddled together near their bunks. The aftermath of red light green light harbored nothing but pure terror. Contestants pleading for their freedom, drowning in tears and regret. Cilan gazed out at the remaining players as they begged the armed guards to have mercy on them.

…How we survived is beyond me. So many players were eliminated in the first round - how were we supposed to know that elimination meant certain death? By the looks of it, nobody else knew, either.

Chili dug his nails into Cilan’s shoulders, shaking him from his thoughts.
“What the fuck is happening?” He shouted, “We gotta get out of here. We… we gotta go!”

Cress sighed deeply, caressing his temples and keeping his eyes lightly shut.

“Don’t just stand there!” Chili shook them both, hoping to somehow embolden them. To do what? Cilan wasn't so sure. “Do something! Get us out of here!”

“Chili,” Cilan calmly stated, holding his hand out to silence him. “Just calm down. We need to be rational-”

“Rational? Are you serious? What about this situation is rational? They’re gonna kill us all!”

Cilan tapped his chin. “Well, do you remember the waiver we signed before?”

Cress echoed, “Yes, the waiver.”

“What the hell does the stupid waiver have to do with any of this?”

Cilan replied, “Knowing you Chili, you probably didn't read it. The third rule states that the games can be terminated with a majority vote.”

Cress added, “And seeing how many players are as distraught as we are, I’m sure we’ll be able to leave. …Right?” He looked at Cilan, as if he had all of the answers.

Cilan nodded, though insecure. “Yes. That’s what the waiver says.” He took another glance around the room. “...Have you guys noticed that some of the other players don’t seem afraid at all?”

Cress nodded. “Yes, I have. I’d even go as far as to say that they’re excited.”

“Mhm. I recognize a few people as well.” Cilan pointed to the far side of the room, where player 009 was leaned up against the wall. “That’s Silver. He’s a strong trainer from Johto. I wonder how he ended up here. Player 206, he’s from the Sinnoh region. And look, there.” he redirected his attention behind them. “Players 098 and 099, I recognize them from the PWT. They’re both champions of the Kanto region.”

Chili scoffed. “Why would a champion come to a competition like this? I’m sure they’re both drowning in money.”

Cilan frowned. “I don’t know. I’m sure they have their reasons, but… it’s strange. How can none of us remember how we got here? How far are we all from our homes?”

“Let’s find out by getting the hell out of here,” Chili growled.

Cilan broke away from his siblings, heading toward the wailing crowd. He carefully pushed his way to the front, where he stood face to face with an armed guard. “Excuse me,” Cilan stuttered, grabbing their attention. “Can we vote?”

He was met with silence.

“Hello? Did you hear me? I asked if we could vote. Rule three of the signed agreement stated that the games may be terminated with a majority vote.”

The guard stared straight ahead, silent for a moment before stating, “Yes. You may vote.”

Cilan smiled, clasping his hands together. “Thank you very much. Thank you.”

The guard fired his gun into the air to quiet the crowd. Cilan winced, shielding his face fearfully. Once the gaggle of pleading players had quieted, the guard spoke. “The remaining players will now vote whether to continue the games, or return home empty handed. Before we begin, please direct your attention to the pot.”

A loud, twinkly drumroll began playing, as bundles of cash began to fill the bank. Small gasps erupted from the crowd. …It sounded like they were being swayed.

“Here is the status of your winnings, taking in account the recently eliminated players. Now, we will begin the vote.”

A second set of guards walked forward, pushing a wheeled cart continuing two buttons, blue and red. They were to press the red button to return home, and the blue to continue playing. The votes would ascend in chronological order, meaning that Chili was up first.

“Player 001,” the announcement commenced, “Please cast your vote.”

Chili looked down at the breast of his jacket, confirming his number. “...We’re getting the fuck out of here,” He mumbled beneath his breath as he shuffled through the crowd of people. He didn't hesitate to slam his hand down on the ‘X’ button.
Cress and Cilan were next. They followed Chili, eager for the games to be put to an end. The next few players agreed, voting no, until it was player 065’s turn to vote. Cilan had never seen someone like her. She had the features of a fish; deep blue scales, fins, slitted eyes. She was muscular, and roared with laughter as she made her way up to the button, smashing the ‘O’ so harshly that it nearly cracked.

“W-wait!” A timid voice called from the crowd. “Please don’t do this. Please! It isn’t worth it!” All heads turned to face player 224, who was standing in a small group with her friends. “There are other better ways to earn money.”

The group that Cilan had referred to his brothers earlier chuckled. A group that appeared to be relishing in the games. Player 453 stepped forward. He had a deep red faux hawk and rugged scars along the front of his face. “What? You scared? You know someone as weak as you doesn’t stand a chance in here?”

224 cowered back slightly. “...Nobody stands a chance in here,” She said, “One mistake and it’s all over.”

453 howled with laughter. “You guys hear that?” he nudged his buddies. “I think I’ve found our next target.”

“What?” She stuttered, fearfully hugging herself.

Player 222 draped an arm around her shoulder. “Stop it, Lib. We aren’t gonna be able to sway anyones votes. We just have to hope most people have common sense.”

The voting continued.

---

CHAZ MCFREELY

There were only 265 out of 356 players remaining, and the vote was alarmingly close. He was the last of their group to vote, bringing the score up to 107 ‘X’ and 111 ‘O’. Only forty seven players left to cast their vote. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Liberty as they stared up at the vote counter. One by one, their faith abandoned them as more people began to vote ‘O’. Chaz felt Liberty’s hand snake around his. Normally, he would have shoved her away and thrown out a trashy insult. But this time, he didn't. He gave her hand a squeeze, because for all he knew, this was the last time they’d see each other.

“Player 316, please cast your vote.”

Chaz drew his gaze away from the counter, and watched as a small statured boy worked his way to the front.

…Is that…? No…

Chaz leaned forward, attempting to get a better look at the boy. He was trembling, and had his jacket tied around his waist; Chaz would recognize that bright blue hair anywhere. His vision blurred as consternation overtook him. He stumbled on his feet, grasping onto Liberty’s shoulder for balance.

…It was Tim.

“No… no no no…” Chaz repeated, watching as Tim voted ‘X’ and made his way over to the other side.

Summer leaned forward, just beside Chaz. “Is that Tim…?” She whispered, as if she could hardly accept the words coming from her own mouth.

Chaz nodded, overwhelmed by the direness of the situation.

“...Did you know?”

“No,” Chaz told her. “No I… I had no idea.”

Now, the obligation to terminate the games was essential. If the games continued, there was no way Tim would survive another round.

The remaining players made their way up to vote. ‘X’ ‘O’ ‘X’ ‘O’. The back and forth was dizzying. ‘O’ was still too far in the lead, there was no way the remaining players would all vote to return home.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Chaz mumbled, watching as the counter steadily rose. 129 ‘X’ and 134 ‘O’ was the final result. They would not be permitted to leave, and the games would continue.

Everyone who voted to remain in the game erupted in noisy cheers, slapping their palms together and booing the other side. Half of the contestants who voted no were bawling, falling to their knees and preparing for their final goodbyes.

The guards demanded that everyone prepare for lights out before removing the buttons and exiting the room. The timer over the door began counting down. As soon as the doors closed, Chaz shoved through the crowd, his eyes set on Tim. “Tim!” He shouted, drawing his attention.

Tim turned around. Tears dripped steadily down his cheeks, creating small stains on his uniform. “Chaz… I’m so scared,” He wailed, nearly collapsing forward.

Chaz caught Tim by the shoulders and stabilized him. He gave his shoulders a small shake. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Tim sniffled, his words a blubbering mess. “My grandmother is sick. She’s sick, and I’m the only one able to take care of her. I don’t have the money to get her treatment and… and I didn’t know what to do so I came here, and-”

Chaz pulled Tim forward, hugging him tightly. He hushed him, but allowed him to cry into his shoulder. “It’s alright, kid. You’re alright.” He said, suddenly realizing how small Tim really was. Though he was sixteen, he appeared a lot younger. Round face, high pitched voice, big eyes. Chaz had first met Tim at a meet and greet when the boy was just thirteen years old. He’d followed Chaz around tirelessly since that day, and though Chaz claimed to be irritated by it, he’d grown rather attached. He’d looked after Tim on multiple occasions when his grandmother was too busy. He’d taught him to skate, taken him for drives on his motorcycle, treated him like a father would a son.

Tim’s sixteenth birthday had been just a week prior. He threw a party at the pier, and claimed to have invited all of his classmates. Only one person had shown up - a young girl named Sachiko. Tim didn’t even seem upset - if anything, he seemed happy to have even one friend there with him. Chaz had noticed the number of empty chairs, so he called up a bunch of his college friends and made them hang out at the boardwalk. Tim was thrilled - he said that thanks to Chaz, his sophomore year was gonna be great, since he had been to a ‘cool college party’. The kid really worshiped him and now here he was, inches away from death.
…Chaz didn’t allow himself to cry. Tim needed someone strong.

“I’m scared,” Tim whimpered, his knuckles curling around the fabric of Chaz’s jacket. “I’m so scared.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Chaz pulled away, keeping his hands securely on Tim’s shoulders. “We’re gonna get out of here, okay?”

“How? So many people voted to stay.”

“I know. But we’re strong, aren’t we? Hey, look at me. You’re not weak.”

Tim sniffled, wiping his face off on the sleeves of his jacket. “But I-”

“You’re not weak, Tim. I don’t care what anybody says. You stick by me - we’ll make it out together.”

Tim nodded. “I…I just wanted my grandma to get better.”

“She will,” Chaz assured him. “Okay? Don’t even think for a second that she won’t.”

“Okay,” Tim murmured, following Chaz over to his small group of friends.

“Tim,” Summer said, moving forward and hugging him tightly. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

Tim rested his chin on her shoulder. He clung to her, his body trembling. “...I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Summer placed her hands on the sides of Tim’s face and used her thumbs to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “You have nothing to be sorry for. We’re here to help you.”

Suddenly, the lights shut off in the room.

Summer urged, “Come on, let’s get you into bed.” She took Tim by the hand, leading him up a few bunks. The others followed. Chaz remained where he was, watching as their figures disappeared further into the darkness. A heavy feeling of despair had settled in his chest and refused to leave. This situation just continued to worsen, and he was powerless to stop it. He had come to terms with the fact that tomorrow's game was unavoidable - that much he could handle. But actually surviving it? That was another story. He forced himself to move. Knowing that Tim was safe with Summer, he laid himself down on his bunk. He desperately needed sleep, but fear kept him awake. He resorted to sitting on the steps, eyes locked onto the bank dangling from the ceiling.

If he couldn’t sleep, he could at least come up with a plan for future games. Or rather, a way to keep Tim alive. His top priority had been Summer, but now that Tim was thrown into the mix, things were different. Why had so many people voted no? Money was great, sure, but not enough to risk your life for. Chaz had been living a life of fame for a while now, but couldn’t care less about the money that came with it. It was different for other people; money was all they thought about. They didn’t care about killing innocent people, as long as it meant they’d get their fair share of cash in the end. …Disgusting.

“Can’t sleep?” Luke’s whispers tore him from his thoughts.

He twisted around, unable to refrain from glaring in his direction. “Go back to bed. Leave me alone.”

“...It’s okay, you know,” Luke said, standing over him, “To show some emotion every now and then.”

Chaz narrowed his eyes. He didn’t want to admit it, but his hatred toward Luke was derived through utter jealousy. His flawless athletic ability and talent for surfing irked Chaz like no other. Everyone at the beach fawned over Luke, and barely anyone watched his stunt shows when Luke was out shredding. …Including Summer. “I’m not like you,” Chaz snapped, facing forward once more.

“Yeah?” Luke sat down beside him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

Chaz scoffed, inching away from him. “You were sobbing so hard you could barely breathe after the first game. That makes you weak. A target.”

Luke’s body tensed up. “Dude, my best friend was shot. Right in front of me. He died while begging me to save his life. Do you understand how badly that affected me? Don’t say things like that. You don’t get to say things like that without having been through it.”

He could hear Luke begin to get choked up near the end of his words. Chaz winced, hoping the darkness hid his expression. He was normally tough on Luke, but not like this. This anger was rooted in pure fear. He didn’t mean the words he was saying, but he couldn’t seem to cut his bad habits, even in a situation like this. Luke and Chaz had a rocky past with one another. They went from best pals to strangers in the span of a few days, and it was all due to Chaz’s ego. Luke was right - Chaz had no place spewing such utter bullshit.

“Look, I get it,” Luke continued. “I do. We’re all in the same boat here. I’m usually a pretty positive dude, but nothin’ about this sitch is looking up. If we’re all gonna make it out, we gotta work together. And that includes you.”

Chaz dropped his head, staring at the outline of his shoes in the darkness. “I’m not gonna abandon you guys, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I know you wouldn’t. You’re not that kinda guy. You’re a good person, Chaz. I know that better than anyone.”

Chaz glanced at Luke for a brief moment. “...Things just got a whole lot worse. Now that I know Tim’s here, I don’t…” He trailed off, running his hands over his face. “I don’t know if we can all make it out alive.”

“Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”

“And you don’t know what the next game could be. What happens when the game is rock paper scissors or something? A one on one game based on nothing but luck. How do you expect me to protect him then, huh?”

Luke’s shoulders sank. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Use your brain, idiot. Nobodys safe here.”

A moment of silence passed between them, until Luke spoke up. “If anyone makes it outta here, it’s gonna be you.”

Chaz looked over at him, waiting for an explanation.

“The way you saved Summer? God, I couldn’t have done that. I didn’t even think that was an option, going back out there and putting yourself in danger like that. I don’t care how indifferent you try to be, you care a lot. If I lost Summer too, I…”

Chaz frowned, shaking his head slightly. “I couldn’t leave her.”

They passed a look of mutual understanding. Losing Summer would tip both of them over the edge, and they both knew it. Maybe their affection for her had driven a wedge between them before, but now? Now, it was creating a much needed alliance. Chaz said, “I can’t leave Tim, either.”

“I know,” Luke replied, “I get it. We’ll all stick together, okay? We won’t let anything hurt the little dude.”

Chaz spun around quickly, grabbing the front of Luke’s shirt in his fist. “You listen to me,” He stated, his face inches away from Luke’s own. “If anything happens out there, you save Tim over me. If I die, you’d better swear to me that you’ll risk your life to keep Tim and Summer alive. If I’m not there to get them through this, it’s gonna be you.”

Luke cowered back, fearfully gripping Chaz’s wrist. His eyes darted around his face as he listened, letting his words sink in before quickly nodding. “Yeah, yeah I swear it. I’ll keep them safe.”

Chaz released him harshly, letting him fall to the floor. “...Good. Remember that.” He stood, and began to ascend the stairs, leaving Luke alone once more. He climbed past Tim’s bunk. The kid was fast asleep, still quivering. Summer resided in the bed directly beside his, curled up beneath her blankets.

Chaz stared down at them, swallowing the emotion that was attempting to claw its way up his throat.

Please, let them live… Let them live. Take me instead.

Chapter Text

GOTH BOY

He didn’t bother to try and fall asleep. He was tormented enough as it was in this lifetime - he didn't need to relive the bloodshed in his dreams. He stared down at the bright yellow omelette on his tray, his mind much too busy to think about food.

He had come here with a group of his friends; Ray, Blaine, and Crystal. It was his boyfriend, Jimmy, who had told them about the games in the first place. Thinking they’d be able to pocket some money to make their lives easier, they came here together. Jimmy was the only one who had an actual motive; his father. His father, Hisao Watanabe, had gotten into some trouble with money. He didn’t have enough to keep his sushi shop up and running, so he resorted to gambling and lost more than he earned. Jimmy, being the perfect son that he was, took on multiple jobs as an attempt to help his father. It wasn’t enough, so he resorted to the games.

Jimmy nudged Goth Boy’s leg, using his fork to point at his eggs. “Please, eat. You’ve barely taken care of yourself since we got here.”

Goth Boy looked at Jimmy, harboring the same soulless look in his eyes as he always did. “I’m not hungry.”

“Please try,” Jimmy urged, “We need to keep our strength up as much as possible for the next game. Then… then maybe we can all vote no again and get out of here. …I miss my dad and Sachiko. I bet they’re wondering where I am…”

Ray laughed, a sound that signified annoyance. This wasn't unusual, coming from Ray, but he had been oddly unaffected by the violence of the first game.

Crystal furrowed her brow. “What?”

Ray spoke through a mouthful of food. “We’re not leaving.”

Jimmy slowly set his fork down. His hands began to shake, and quiet tears rolled down his cheeks.

“Cry all you want,” Ray sneered, “They’re not gonna let you out of here. Not unless you’re leaving in a casket.”

“Ray,” Goth Boy snapped, gripping the handle of his fork.

“What?” Ray was smiling, a malicious gleam in his ruby eyes. “You really believe that we’re gonna leave? Get home safe and sound and pretend this all never happened? Bullshit.”

Jimmy began to cry harder.

“Ray stop it,” Goth Boy repeated, louder this time.

“I’m just being honest. You’ll have to come to terms with it eventually. Might as well forfeit and let them kill you now so you don’t have to go through the pain later.”

Jimmy dropped his tray and hunched forward with his hands over his ears.

“Ray!” Crystal was the one to shout at him this time. “Shut the fuck up - you’re seriously fucked up in the head.”

Ray chuckled lightly, shoveling some more egg into his mouth. “Aren’t we all?”

Goth Boy put an arm around Jimmy’s shoulders, comforting him to the best of his ability. Much to his pleasure, Ray finally shut his mouth. Jimmy had dropped the remainder of his food, and it lay scattered at his feet.

Crystal sighed. “Jimmy, hey, it’s fine. Don’t listen to him - he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

Jimmy picked his head up, leaning into Goth Boy for consolation. Goth Boy slid his untouched omelet over to Jimmy. “Here.”

“No,” Jimmy refused, “I need you to eat.” He sniffled.

Blaine, who had been silent before, extended his tray out toward Jimmy. “You can have mine. Us vampires can’t digest normal food anyways.”

Jimmy blinked at him a few times. Crystal rolled her eyes. “Blaine,” She said, “You’re not a real vampire. Eat your food - you’re gonna need it.”

“Nope!” Blaine set the tray down on Jimmy’s lap. “That’s what I want you to think. Sure, Crystal. I’m not a real vampire. Until I sink my fangs into your neck when you least expect it!” He curled his hands into the shape of claws and hovered them over Crystal. She smiled, snorting out a short laugh. “You’re so dumb.”

An announcement rang out over the loudspeakers, “The second game will commence in ten minutes. Please line up for transport.”

Jimmy’s head snapped in Goth Boy’s direction, his gaze laced with pure terror.

“It’s ok,” Goth Boy said, though he was hesitant to trust himself. With the fear of the second game breathing down their necks, Goth Boy decided to finally force some food into his stomach. He and Jimmy both took some hasty bites before making their way to the room's center, where everyone was lined up. Goth Boy took up the rear, standing as close to Jimmy as he could.

The walk felt eternal. Knowing that they were potentially walking to their doom was the hardest part. Goth Boy didn’t care about losing his own life - it was Jimmy he was worried about. The guards let them into a large sand pit of sorts, decorated with different playground equipment. Four doors stood before them marked with different symbols; a circle, triangle, star, and umbrella.

Jimmy tugged on Goth Boy’s arm. “Hey… I think I know this game - I know what this is!”

“You do?” Goth Boy didn’t have the slightest clue of what it could have been, so he was intrigued.

“Yes! It looks like it might be katanuki! My dad used to make some for Sachiko and I all the time back when we were growing up. But these shapes look a little different from the ones used in katanuki.” He squinted, trying to make sense of the shapes in his head. “...It’s dalgona. It’s dalgona. I know it is.”

“Dalgona?” Crystal echoed, leaning over to hear him better. “I’ve never heard of that.”

“It’s a Korean game - basically the exact same thing as katanuki. You’ll receive a honeycomb candy and a pick. The way you play is by using the pick to carve out the candy without it cracking. …Not as easy as it sounds. Let’s all pick the triangle. Nobody take the umbrella, okay? That’s way too difficult.”

Crystal nodded. “Any tips?”

Jimmy pressed his lips together in thought. “...I don’t know. I’ve only ever played the game with dalgona once or twice. I'm better at katanuki. Keep your hand steady, and take your time.”

The voice over the loudspeaker instructed everyone to select a shape. Jimmy took Goth Boy and Crystal by the hands and led them to the triangle door. Blaine and Ray trailed close behind, hoping to take the easiest option.

---------

HENRY HART

They decided to split up, upon Charlotte’s request. If they couldn’t get out of here, they could at least do their best to help one another survive. Charlotte took the circle, Henry took the star, and Jasper took the umbrella.

Henry was given a small circular lidded tray from one of the guards. He grouped up with Jasper and Charlotte, where they sat underneath one of the slides.

“...What is this?” Jasper asked, examining his tray.

Henry popped the lid off, revealing an amber colored cookie inside. There was an indent of a star on the top of it. “I’ve never seen something like this before. Char?” He looked to her, hopeful to get some information about the game.

Charlotte was staring into her own tin, bewilderment guiding her eyes. “I… don’t know.”

As if on cue, the loudspeaker began to announce the rules of the game. They must remove the shape using the needle given. If the shape cracked, they would be eliminated.

Henry’s hands began to shake. “What? Is this some sort of joke? How is Jasper supposed to get that shape out without it breaking?”

“I’ve got this, Hen,” Jasper said, as the three of them sat cross legged on the sandy ground. “Just gotta go slow, right?” There was a dismal tone to his normally cheery voice.

Charlotte picked up her needle, examining the tip. “I wonder what this candy is made of. It looks pretty thin - it shouldn’t be too hard to carve around it. Go slow. Please. Promise me you guys won’t rush.”

Henry nodded slowly. “Yeah, yeah I swear. I won’t.”

Jasper was breathing rapidly, looking down at the umbrella shaped into the surface of his cookie. “...Yeah. I won’t rush.” His voice sounded devoid of hope.

“...Switch with me,” Henry stated, extending his tray toward Jasper.

Jasper locked eyes with Henry. “Henry, I can’t-”

“Just shut up and switch with me,” Henry demanded. “A star is way easier to cut out than that. Jasper please. Swap.”

“But I don’t want you to-”

“I don’t care. Please.”

Was he making a dumb decision? Probably. Neither of them had ever played this before, and he had no clue where to even start. But if he had one chance to spare his best friend, he was going to take it.

Jasper stared down into his dish, then slowly began to extend it toward Henry. Just before Henry could grab the tray, a guard shoved his hand in between. “Switching shapes is not permitted.”

Henry swallowed, retracting his arm. He nodded, just to show the guard that he had heard.

Jasper forced a smile, giving Henry a look of gratitude. “...It’ll be easy.” They both knew he was lying.

The countdown started, and the game had begun.

Charlotte dipped the pick on the end of her tongue before scratching at the outline of her shape. If Charlotte was doing it, then it must have been the smartest choice. Henry did the same, poking at the top corner of his star. Jasper must not have seen, because he was moving the needle up and down, as flakes of candy flicked from the tin and onto the sand.

“Go slow,” Henry said quietly, reminding Jasper to take his time.

Charlotte snapped the edges off of her candy, making her scratching area smaller and easy to work with. Sweat beaded across their foreheads, and the slickness made the needle difficult to hold. Henry carved deep into the grooves, until he had the entire right side of the star free. Charlotte snapped another edge off of her candy. Jasper did the same.

Three minutes remaining. A gunshot fired, causing Henry to flinch. The relief of knowing that it wasn't Charlotte or Jasper allowed him to steady himself enough to keep working.

Charlotte set her pick down, and held up her finished circle - complete without a single crack.
“Player 281, pass.”

Henry looked up, smiling brightly. “Nice job, Char.”

“You can congratulate me after you both get out of here,” She responded.

Henry refocused on his own candy.

Two minutes left. He peeked over at Jasper, who had his tongue sticking out from the corner of his mouth, intensely focused. He wasn’t making nearly as much progress as Henry or Charlotte. Henry didn’t have time to worry - he needed to finish his own. He probed at the last remaining edge of his star, until he was able to cleanly pop it out. A small chuckle escaped him.

“Player 282, eliminated.”

A wave of panic washed over him. “N- no!” He stuttered. “I did it, look? See? A perfect star - No cracks!”

“Player 280, pass.”

Wait. He looked down at his jacket number. 280. He had passed.

…Jasper. Jasper was 282.

His eyes slowly trailed over to Jasper, who’s needle had been discarded a few inches away from his tin. He held the umbrella in his shaking hand. The handle was snapped off. He met Henry’s eyes, his lip quivering as he attempted to hold himself together.

“No,” Henry breathed, unable to take his eyes off of the broken handle. “No, no no no wait please give him another try! Give him a different shape!”

The guard lifted his gun, holding it evenly with Jasper’s forehead. Jasper’s eyes remained locked onto Henry’s own. He opened his mouth to speak but before he got the chance to, the guard pulled the trigger.

A scream of agony escaped Henry as he collapsed to his knees, clawing his way toward Jasper’s body. The cracked umbrella laid in a pool of blood, just beside his head. Before Henry could reach him, two guards grabbed him by the arms and lifted him, escorting him out of the room. He went limp in their arms, allowing them to drag him as he sobbed, staring at Jasper’s body until the last possible second. They escorted him back to the bunks, where the players that successfully passed were sitting in wait; including Charlotte. They tossed Henry onto the floor where he immediately curled into himself, inconsolable.

“Henry?” Charlotte swiftly made her way over, kneeling at his side. “Henry, what happened?”

Henry shook his head, sputtering and gasping for breath between sobs.

“Henry.” Charlotte repeated, “Where’s Jasper?”

The mention of his name only made Henry cry harder. Charlotte must have understood, since she buried her face in her hands, most likely to conceal her own tears.

His old life as he knew it was gone. Nothing would ever be the same.

Goodbye, innocence. Goodbye, to the life he once lived. Goodbye, Jasper. Goodbye, Kid Danger.

I t was nice knowing you.

Chapter Text

ALPHYS

The timer began ticking down.

“I… I know this game!” Alphys squealed, looking down at the triangle shape in her tray. “I know this!”

Undyne chuckled, “What? So they’re really telling me I can’t smash this into tiny little pieces?”

“No! No, no, don't do that. Y-you’ll be eliminated,” Alphys assured her. “Watch. Like this.” She took her pick and began to scrape at the edge of her triangle. “See?”

“Yeah, seems easy enough. I'll race ya!” Undyne began digging harshly into her circle, scraping viciously.

“U-Undyne! S-stop it! Slow down!” Alphys honked, her panic skyrocketing at the fear of a bullet burying itself in Undyne’s brain.

“Naw, I got this!”

Alphys sighed, continuing to poke at her own triangle. I’m usually not confident, but if anyones got this, it's me. I've seen this game played before. There’s no way I'll lose! And if I'm able to get my shape out quicker than Undyne, maybe I can impress her?

She smirked, glancing at Undyne for a brief moment before looking back down at her shape.

…Yep. I’ve got this. This is just like that episode of Mew Mew: Kissy Cutie where Mew Mew must focus all of her energy on the scepter of love, while simultaneously controlling the minds of those around her! Hehe… I love that episode. Being here really makes me feel like I’m in an anime of some sort. Maybe I’d be the beautiful sought after heroine who everyone falls for, so they protect me up until the end so I get to return home with all of the money because they love me so much! If I'm lucky, Undyne will be the jealous type, and fend everyone off so the two of us could win together. Ooh, or maybe, Undyne will finally confess her feelings to me after a dramatic-

Crack.

Alphys’s mouth fell open. She had been so lost in thought, that she hadn’t paid attention to what she was doing.

Undyne stared at Alphys, her normally eager expression dulling to one of pure horror. “...Alphys?” She choked, “You… you said you knew how to play this.”

Alphys slowly set her cracked triangle on the ground, perspiration slicking her hands and fogging her glasses. “I… I do! I swear! I… I don’t know what happened!”

A guard stepped into her vision, and held a gun up to her forehead.

“Player 006, eliminated.”

“No,” Alphys stammered, falling backward into the sand as she made a wimpy attempt to escape. “No, no no no please, please don’t kill me! Please, please don’t I have to-”

------------

DEDUE

He feared something like this would happen. A game that required skill and precision. A slowly guided hand. He and Dimitri had both chosen the star. An entire minute had passed, and Dimitri had yet to even pick up his needle.

“Dimitri,” Dedue stated, “You must try, before you run out of time.”

Dimitri’s brow furrowed with worry as he looked up at Dedue, uncertainty gleaming in his eyes. “You know I do not have a gentle hand. I won’t be able to do this without it cracking. I… I can’t.”

A heavy sadness tugged relentlessly at Dedue. They both knew he was right; Dimitri was hopeless at tasks requiring gentle handiwork. Dedue was always the one to take care of those sorts of duties. “I know. But you have to try.”

“Player 006, eliminated.”

A gunshot went off. Dimitri flinched, closing his eyes tightly. “Dedue, I-”

Dedue reached over, grasping onto Dimitri’s hand. “Please. You can do this.”

“I can’t! I-I can’t, I… Dedue, I’m not ready to die. Not like this.”

Dedue frowned, fighting the urge to let his emotions overwhelm him. “I’m here with you. See?” He showed Dimitri his candy. Almost half of his star had already been cut out. “You’re a fool to think I’d let you go through this alone. Take a breath. You can do this.”

Dimiti looked into Dedue’s eyes. His words must have struck a chord with him, because he shakily picked up his needle. His hands were trembling violently. Things weren’t looking good.

“That’s it. Slowly.” The clock was ticking down rather quickly - another minute and a half had already gone by. Dedue continued to work on his shape, despite the eliminations occurring behind him.

Much to his delight, Sylvain, Felix, and Ingrid had all passed, and were escorted out of the room.

“...You’re stalling.” Dimitri stated, looking over at Dedue’s work. “You would have been done before all three of them if it weren't for me.”

He was right. Dedue had one tiny corner of his star left to free. All he had to do was pull the shape out, and he would pass.

“Finish it,” Dimitri urged. “I need to know that you’ll be safe to make it to the next round.”

“Player 282, eliminated.” Sobbing. Screaming. Another gunshot. Their situation darkened.

Dedue continued, “You’ve hardly made any progress. You’re running out of time.”

“I-I understand. I’m sorry. I’m afraid.”

Dedue felt a lump of emotion rising in his throat. He swallowed. “Do not be afraid. You know that you have nothing to fear at my side.”

Dimitri nodded. He scratched some more of his shape, then stopped. Once more, and pulled the needle away.

One minute remaining.

Dimitri glanced at the clock, and his hands began to tremble excessively. He stuck the needle into the corner of the star once more, dragging it harder down the crease of the candy. Dedue held his breath as he watched, waiting for him to eventually pull the shape out.

Dimitri spun the candy around, searching for a good angle to work at. He took his needle and poked at it. The top of his star cracked off almost instantly. Dimitri gasped quietly, his entire body shuddering with the fear of ruination.

Dedue flinched, watching the piece fall to the ground. His blood ran cold, shivering with impending doom. There was nothing he could do to save him. Dimitri slowly looked up at Dedue. “...You can still make it out of here. You can still-”

Dedue picked up his own star, and cracked it in half with his hands. Dimitri's mouth hung agape, as he looked at the broken pieces in Dedue’s hands.

“Player 185, eliminated. Player 186, eliminated.”

“Dedue, no, no, why? Why would you do this?” Dimitri wailed, gripping Dedue’s hand in his.

Dedue squeezed Dimitri’s hand, watching as tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes. Having Dimitri’s face being the last thing he saw before death consumed him was relieving. Suddenly, he wasn’t afraid anymore. “I told you. You are a fool to think I’d let you do this alone. I am here with you. Always. Whether it be now, or in another life.”

“Dedue… I-” with a spray of blood, Dimitri fell onto his side, eyes wide open.

Dedue didn't take his eyes off of him. He watched as he landed, settling almost peacefully in the sand. Dedue lowered himself to the ground and laid down, just beside Dimitri. He curled his hand around his, holding it tightly. He didn’t get the chance to thank him, for being his entire reason to be.

…Perhaps this would suffice, until they met again.

Chapter Text

---MAX GOOF---

“Ha ha ha!” Pete guffawed, pointing up at the prize money as more bundles of cash fell into the bank to compensate for the eliminated players. “Would you look at that! It’s so beautiful, it could make a grown man cry, I tell ya!” He laughed again, slinging an arm around PJ. “Son, we’re gonna be rich! And of course by we, I mean ME!” He slapped his leg, howling with laughter.

PJ was unable to produce a smile. “Uh, yeah… Sure, dad.” He looked at Max, his eyes reflecting their shared expression of sorrow.

Goofy stepped forward, eager to change Pete’s mind. “Hey, Petey? You really sure you wanna carry on with these games? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think this money is worth risking our lives for.”

Max nodded, actually agreeing with his father for once. “No offense Mr. P, but do you really think you’ll be able to make it to the end? And even if you do, survive it?”

Pete narrowed his eyes, looking in their direction. “Watch it, boy.”

Bobby stepped in, attempting to alleviate the situation. “Okay, okay that’s enough. Everyone thinks they’re tough enough to win - blah blah blah whatever. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what we think. Either way, too many people have already died. Let’s just get on with the vote and see if anyone else changed their minds, yeah?”

Max’s eyes trailed to the floor. “...I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this for.” He felt his father’s hand on his shoulder, and his chest swelled with comfort. …His dad, PJ, Bobby, Bradley, Tank, Roxanne… they had all come here together. Every single one of them. The thought of being able to support themselves better financially while struggling with college debt was promising. But now, knowing the risks? It wasn’t worth it.

The guards rolled out the voting box.

Max turned, looking at Bradley. He was sitting on the bunk steps, his head in his hands. Something had changed in Bradley after the first game. He voted no, but only because Max begged him to. Bradley’s competitive nature was resurfacing in a bad way. The old Bradley was showing, and it wasn’t pretty.

Tank guided his sister over to stand in line for the voting box. “You guys comin’ or what?” Tank jerked his head toward the buttons, signaling for them to come over.

“Yeah, yeah we’re coming.” Max said, but instead of joining them in line, he went to retrieve Bradley. “...Bradley,” He stated, holding a hand down to him.

Bradley picking his head up, his exes fixating on Max. “...You’re going to ask me to vote to leave. Aren’t you?”

Max let his arm drop to his side. “This shouldn’t even be a conversation between us. You should want to go home.”

“I do, but not without the money.”

Exhausted, Max blew out a steady stream of air. “But you’d return home without me. Huh? Isn’t that right?”

Bradley’s eyes narrowed, and he pushed himself to his feet. “Don’t you dare put words into my mouth. That’s not what I meant.”

“It doesn’t matter. You should be worried about our safety, but instead all you’ve been talking about is the damn money. Are you even afraid?”

“...No. I’m not, Max. You have to understand… We’re going home with that money.”

Max squeezed his eyes shut and ran his hand through his hair, doing anything he could to relieve some anger before he took it out on Bradley. “How? Please explain, because I’m dying to know.”

Bradley lifted his chin, looking down his nose at Max. “Simply because I’m the best. I don’t lose.”

“You lost to me.”

Bradley took a small step back. “...Well yes, but in here, we get to work together. As a team.”

“Last game we didn't. We were on our own for that one. PJ’s candy nearly cracked in half and you didn’t even seem sorry for him.”

“Well he lived, didn't he? He made it through. We all did.”

Max gestured behind him, where their friends were all standing in a line. “What makes you think that next time it won't be different? Bradley, you’re not thinking straight. If you loved me, you wouldn’t be acting this way.”

Bradley’s mouth fell open slightly. “This has nothing to do with the way I feel about you. You know that.”

“To me, it means a lot, actually! You’re voting to potentially get me killed! Yourself, too! My own father, Bradley! …My dad. Y-you can’t seriously still want to play.”

Bradley pressed his lips together. “...We all have our reasons.” With that, he made his way to go stand in line beside Tank.

Max balled his hands into fists, pressing them against his temples, distraught. Why wouldn't he listen? Was he truly not understanding? How could he want to stay here, where death was imminent? He reluctantly followed Bradley, standing in line between PJ and Bobby. Once again, the voting commenced. Still, most people were voting in favor of the games, swayed by the hold that the money had on them. Roxanne was the first of their group to vote. As expected, she voted ‘X’, making uneasy eye contact with Max as she passed by. PJ was next. X. Then Bobby and Max - both X as well. Tank voted X as well, which was a rather shocking revelation.

“Player 267, come cast your vote.”

Bradley. Max’s eyes followed him as he strode up to the voting box.

If you really love me, you’ll vote to get us out of here…

Bradley’s hand hovered over the buttons.

Look at me. Look at me, dammit! If he could see the look of utter despondency on Max’s face, he would have voted to leave. If only he would have looked…

He pushed in the ‘O’ button, and retreated to the opposite side of the room. A wave of betrayal threatened to knock Max to his knees. Wanting money was one thing, but putting his and their friends' lives at risk was unacceptable.
Max was silent for the remainder of the vote, his hands shaking at his sides, as he refused to even glance in Bradley’s direction.

---SUSIE---

If she was in any other situation, Susie would have voted to continue. She would have continued, and wiped out every other contestant and returned home with the money. But she couldn’t - not now. Not when her friends' lives were on the line. Kris and Noelle; she couldn't bear to see them suffer any longer. Berdly was there too, but she couldn't help but feel more inclined to protect the others. Their group was one of the last to go through the voting process. Even though all of them voted to leave, it still wasn't enough. The vote ended with ‘O’ having significantly more people, and the games would continue tomorrow. Susie smashed her foot into one of the bunk beds, her sheer strength shifting it across the floor slightly.

“Susie,” Noelle said softly, placing a hand on her arm. “It’s alright. I know it’s scary but… but we’re all here together, right?”

Susie’s gaze was fixated on the ground, her violet hair obscuring her eyes. “It doesn’t matter. That’s the worst part of it all.”

Noelle frowned, turning to look at Kris. They were standing shoulder to shoulder with Berdly, seemingly at a loss for words. “Maybe… Maybe in the next game, we can-”

“The HELL you voting no for?” a gruff voice drew their attention, to where a small fight seemed to have broken out. Once again, it was Groose, picking on Dwight Fairfield just as he had done the first day.

Kris made a move to walk toward the conflict but Susie grabbed their arm, holding them back. “It’s not worth the trouble. Just stay out of it.” She guided them back to their lunch; a tasteless turkey sandwich with a bottle of soda. Instead of intervening, they observed.

---ILLARI---

Dwight cowered back, shrinking into himself. “Because I want to go home.” His voice was desperate; on the verge of tears. “I’m scared and I can’t do this anymore! Just let me go home!”

Groose shoved his finger into Dwight’s forehead, causing his head to snap back. “You’re not leaving until I let you leave.”

Dwight shuddered, unable to find the courage to stand up to Groose. “N- no, I… I need to leave. If this is about the money, I… I swear that I’ll-”

Groose landed a punch to Dwight’s nose, resulting in a loud crack.Dwight fell hard on his back, curling his legs up into his body and clutching his nose. Groose wound up to hit him again but before he could, someone stepped in, getting between him and Groose.

It was Illari. Her voice was quiet, but held a certain strength to it. “Enough. There’s already been enough death in this place. Don’t go digging another grave.”

Dwight sniffled, peeking through the gaps in his fingers at her. Groose’s face contorted into a look of pure resentment. “You think our lives actually matter in this place?” He snorted, looking at Cawlin and Strich for backup. “You hear that? She thinks we’re actually worth something here!”

Illari didn't let her gaze falter. “...And you think you don’t? You’d throw your lives away so carelessly?”

Groose’s eyes narrowed. “You voted to stay.” He reached forward and grabbed onto the ‘O’ patch on the right side of her jacket. “And you’re really gonna lecture me about the value of our lives?” He harshly released the patch, giving her a small shove as he did so. “Unbelievable.”

Illari tilted her head to the side slightly. “You must have a reason for coming here. We all do. So clearly, you valued your life enough to come win some money to turn it around. You’re here so you can build a better life for yourself. Isn’t that right?”

Groose sneered, “Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t know my reasons for comin’.”

“I don’t. But you seem to be the reason that other people came here. What does that say about your value?”

Groose replied. “Nothing. Like I said, we don’t matter, in or out of these games.”

“Okay. So let him go.” she gestured toward Dwight. “Vote no. If it really doesn’t matter, then why not vote to end it?”

“Cause that money is as good as mine. By the looks of things I’m easily the strongest one here. I could just kill everyone here if I wanted to.”

“Then do it,” Illari said plainly, shrugging her shoulders. “Do it. Prove your worth.”

Groose lunged forward, gripping the front of Illari’s shirt. “You saying I’m worthless?”

“Your words, not mine.”

Groose huffed, then raised his fist to strike. Illari stared at him, unblinking. She didn’t even flinch when he moved to hit her. Before his fist could make contact with her face, a glass soda bottle broke over his head, causing him to release her to grab his head instead.

Illari stumbled to the floor, landing just beside Dwight.

“God, do you ever shut up?” A girl who appeared to be around Illari’s age was the one who broke the bottle over Groose’s head, coming to a timely rescue; number 016.

Groose grunted angrily, twisting in the girls direction, “You little-”

“What?” Her hands rested in her pockets. “If our lives really don’t matter as much as you say they do, then why not stay out of ours?”

Groose sneered, his hands shaking with violent intent.

016 continued, “So if I kill you right here and now, nothing would change. Right?”

Groose stared at her, huffing as blood trailed down the back of his head. He didn't respond.

The girl chuckled, shaking her head. “You’re afraid. This tough act… it’s all a front, isn't it? You’re not actually tough at all, are you?”

Cawlin and Strich backed away, slowly. Clearly, they were nothing without Groose and since he wasn't speaking, they had no point in sticking around. Groose wiped his bloody hand off on the front of his shirt.

016 continued, “You wanna know how much our lives are worth?” She flicked her head in the direction of the piggy bank. “That’s how much. Because for every life that's lost in this place, the prize goes up. If you really despise yourself that much, then do us all a favor and take yourself out. Raise the stakes for the rest of us.”

Groose squeezed his eyes shut briefly, as if he were warding off tears. “I… I want that prize.”

“Oh really? Cause a second ago it sounded like you actually didn’t care about what happens to you, or to any of us.”

Another group had closed in on them. Four players; 453, 454, 455, and 456. Illari had listened in on their conversations; she knew them as Dragomir, Svetlana, Rose, and Raphael.

Svetlana spoke up, interrupting 016. “In here, we have more value than we've ever had out there. In here, our lives actually mean something. We have a chance to start anew.”

016 raised her eyebrows in response. “You think so? You think you’ll ever be the same, even if you make it out alive? After witnessing so much death?”

“You don’t know the things I’ve seen,” Svetlana snapped. “Every dollar dropped into that bank is music to my ears.”

016 made a face; she was clearly disgusted by the opposing group.

Dragomir laughed boisterously, slinging an arm around his twin sister’s shoulders. “Y’know sixteen, I like your train of thought. Why don’t you kill him,” He pointed to Groose, “And raise our prize. That’s what you want, isn't it? More death? More money?”

“I didn’t say that,” 016 responded, “I never wanted this. I never wanted any of it. I don’t think you do, either.”

A flash of understanding glinted in Svetlana’s eyes, disappearing just as quickly as it appeared. Dragomir on the other hand looked hungry for violence. He laughed again, leaning his body forward. “This is a hell of a lot more fun than I thought it was gonna be! I’m having a GREAT time!” he marched over to where Illari and Dwight were still on the ground. Dwight curled up further, while Illari had herself propped up. Dragomir hovered his foot over Dwight’s head. “What do you think? Should I raise the prize?”

A jumble of separated cheers came from the ‘O’ side of the bunks, while the rest of the room was silent.

Illari reached out, gripping Dragomir’s ankle. “Don’t.”

Dragomir’s expression lifted, amused. “What, you know this guy?”

“...No. But it doesn't matter.”

“Right, right,” Dragomir said through a chuckle. “So you won’t mind if I take your life instead?” Without warning he jumped on top of Illari and wrapped his meaty hands around her throat, squeezing.

Dwight cried out in fear, scrambling back on the heels of his hands.

Illari sputtered, clawing at his hands. Purple veins protruded from his forehead, and spitty foam formed at the corners of his mouth. His entire face gleamed a vicious shade of red. “Die,” He growled, “Die, die, die die…”

The world was blurring in and out of focus as Illari struggled to remain conscious. …No way she would die like this. Not after everything-

Dragomir toppled off of her. She gasped for breath, rolling onto her side and fighting to get as much air into her lungs as she could. 016 knelt down beside her, eager to help. “You okay?”

Illari choked, glancing up at 016 for a moment before nodding. If 016 hadn’t pushed Dragomir off of her, then who did? She collapsed onto her back as she heaved for air, to see that Groose was the one who had come to her aid.

Dragomir spat at Groose, “I almost had her! The light in her eyes was fading - she was dying!”

Groose balled his hands into fists, squaring his feet for a fight.

Dragomir couldn't help but laugh at the sight of him. “Really? Really? You wanna fight? The hell is wrong with you? You were just trying to kill these two a second ago! I’m trying to help you!”

Groose frowned. “...She’s right. I care. Because if that’s actually what we’re worth,” he gestured to the bank, “Then… then maybe it is worth gettin’ outta here in one piece.”

016 chuckled quietly. “Told ya,” She whispered to Illari.

Dragomir bent down and picked up the broken bottle that 016 had smashed over Groose’s head. “Yeah, I’m not gonna let that happen.” He shoved the bottle in Groose’s direction. The glass scraped across his arm, shredding the fabric of his jacket and slicing his skin. Groose grunted in pain and swung at Dragomir, clocking him in the side of the head. This only seemed to fuel Dragomir’s rage. He howled, swinging the bottle furiously in Groose’s direction.

016 grabbed onto Illari, pulling her to her feet. “Get up, get up we have to move.” Illari staggered, holding onto 016 for support as they stumbled to the opposite end of the room. Dwight followed them.

With a shout of pure fury, Dragomir powerfully stabbed the glass into Groose’s chest. A small gasp escaped Illari’s lips as she watched Groose slowly sink to the floor.

“Oh, shit…” 016 whispered. “He actually killed him…”

The room went silent. Many people backed into the walls, attempting to get as far away from Dragomir as they could. The only sound came from Illari’s own throat, as she continued to regain her breath.

The bank hanging from the ceiling lit up.

“Player 110, eliminated.”

A few bundles of money fell into the back, resulting in sporadic cheers. The room remained silent until a pair of guards holding a coffin entered. They lowered it beside Groose, and dropped his body in. The stillness was eerie. Illari watched them exit the room, an inescapable feeling of anger rising in her blood.

Sure, Groose wasn’t a good person. But he was still a person - a person that meant something to someone, somewhere. Cawlin and Strich had climbed up a bunk, huddling as far away from Dragomir as they could possibly get. Their so-called leader had died, and they already seemed as if they had been lost for ages.

“You okay?” 016 asked, sitting on the edge of one of the beds with Illari. Illari drew her eyes away from Groose’s blood, which stained the floor.

“I’m fine,” Illari snapped rather harshly.

016 sighed, leaning her arms back on the bed. “They’re gonna come for us next, you know. Probably gonna wait till we’re asleep, then strike. Anything to raise the prize, right?”

Illari glanced over at Dragomir and his group, who seemed to be pointing out anyone who looked weaker than them.

“Hey, I never got your name,” The girl said, holding her hand out toward Illari. “My name is Kiriko.”

Illari looked at the girl. She had her hair tied back in a ponytail, leaving out a few strands that framed her face perfectly. She was pretty.

“...Illari.”

“Illari?” Kiriko smiled. “Thats pretty. Did you come here alone?”

Illari leaned her head back. “Yes.”

“Hm. Same here. Matter of fact, I didn't even tell anyone I was coming.”

Illari wished that Kiriko would leave her alone. She appreciated what she did for her, but the last thing she needed right now was someone to get attached to, because that meant having someone to lose. She didn't respond, but Kiriko kept talking,
“I agree with you. A lot of the people here just seem so… sad. Like they think they're worthless. But I mean… they clearly value themselves enough to come here and try to win the money. You know?”

Illari stared at the floor as she spoke, listening.

“Have you noticed how many different kinds of people are here? Some of them aren't even human! There's monsters, people came with family, lovers, idiots… and then there's people like us.”

Illari glared. “Us? You know nothing of my past.”

“Nah, maybe not. But I can see that you’re good. That you care. You’re here for a reason, and I kinda think it has nothing to do with yourself.”

“It has everything to do with myself.”

Kiriko smiled a little. “I like you, Illari.”

Illari pushed herself to her feet. “Well you’d better stop, because I don’t like you.” She started to walk away, refusing to look back at Kiriko.

…Under different circumstances, maybe she could have become good friends with Kiriko. But in here? Nothing was safe. She had already seen enough of her loved ones die; she wasn't looking to create anymore loss.