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Chapter Text

Tommy awoke from a dreamless sleep to drops of rain hitting his forehead.

He was briefly startled, before remembering he had been evicted from his apartment earlier that week. He raised his middle finger to the clouds, and cursed as another drop of rain hit his eye. He rubbed his eye, blinking rapidly, letting out another string of “fuck” and “shit” as the rain continued to fall harder. He couldn’t tell if it was the rain or his own tears staining his face.

Tommy jumped up from the bus stop bench he was sitting on, and raced down the sidewalk with his backpack over his head as an umbrella. He joined a crowd of others down a flight of stairs to the metro station, and sat on another bench on the platform. He sat there for a while, just people-watching. He had enough money for a trip on the metro, but had no idea where he would go. It was a stupid idea to leave with no plan and no family, Tommy was smart enough to know that. He had to plan his food wisely too- he didn’t know how long he could stretch what little he had, or if he could stomach eating cheap snacks from a gas station to substitute full meals to stretch his money farther. He didn’t even have a phone anymore, having sold it for extra cash for rent when he still had a chance to keep the apartment. Tommy flopped down on the bench with a groan, earning him a look or two from passerby. If he was kidnapped, it wouldn’t even matter. There would be no one to save him. 

“Hello, sir.”

Speak of the devil.

Tommy pushed himself to an upright position, and stared at the man who had approached the great Tommy Ingold in all his rain-soaked misery. He was dressed nicely- a freshly ironed, black suit with slicked-back hair and a pretentious briefcase. 

“Err… sorry, I’m not religious.”

“Neither am I. Would you like to play a game?”

Tommy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not interested in any pyramid schemes either man.”

The man in the suit let out a loud, unsettling laugh. Tommy nearly jumped back. Was this guy on drugs?

“It’s a simple game,” the man set his briefcase down on the bench. Tommy watched him suspiciously, but his eyes widened when he saw the amount of $100 bills in the case. There had to be at least a thousand bills. It was more money than Tommy had ever seen in his life. 

The man in the suit took out a pair of dice, and the briefcase was closed once again. Tommy felt a strange sting in his heart at the realization.

The man held the dice in the palm of his hand for Tommy to see. “We will each take turns rolling these dice. If you roll higher than me, I will give you 100 dollars. If you roll doubles, I will give you 200. However, if I roll higher than you, you owe me 100 dollars. The same goes with doubles.”

Tommy could feel his heart start to race. He did NOT have $100. But he remembered this game, he would play it in the back of the classroom back in middle school with pocket change and candy instead of hundreds.

“So, would you like to play a game?”

Tommy hesitated. Am I really that stupid?

Tommy took the dice. He wasn’t a chicken. He knew he could win. He needed to win.

Tommy’s first roll was a 5 and a 4. Nine.

The man rolled a 5 and a 6. Eleven.

Tommy felt his heart drop as the man held out his rich-ass hand, waiting for his payment from the homeless teenager. Tommy nervously laughed, scratching his neck, even though there was nothing funny about this.

“Well, uhm, you see man… I don’t really have that kind of money right now?”

“Then how about you pay with your body instead?”

Tommy jumped up and took a step back. “What the fu-”

The man jumped up just as fast, and smacked Tommy across his face. 

Tommy’s hand flew to his cheek. It stung badly. So badly that he could feel his eyes start to water.

He stared at the man incredulously. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The man in the suit only smiled, and opened his briefcase to put the dice back. Tommy reckoned he could jump him for the case. No, he reckoned all he needed was a second chance. 

“Wait.” The man turned back to the boy who was massaging the red slap mark. “I want to play again. Another round.”

They played 20 rounds, or until Tommy’s face couldn’t take the slapping anymore. Tommy won 11 of those rounds. He realized this as he sat counting the money. He was holding $1,300- two of the rounds he had been lucky enough to roll doubles. Tommy pocketed the money, reaching for the dice again. Maybe he could make enough to get back the apartment with time to get a job. He didn’t care how much it hurt.

The man in the suit swiped them away, and dropped Tommy’s money-making-scheme into his briefcase. 

“Come on man, just one more round, please-”

The man took out a card from his case and locked it. He offered the card to Tommy. 

“There’s a place where you can play games, just like this one, for one hundred-times the amount in your pocket.”

Tommy stared at the card being offered to him. Of course, this was why he was wary of the man in the first place. This had to be some sort of scheme, that was just too much money to be real. 

“And why should I believe you?” Tommy didn’t take the card yet, no matter how much his brain was screaming at him to just do it. The card probably had some sort of tracker in it anyway. 

“Tommy Ingold. 19 years old. Dropped out of college last month due to your legal guardian’s suicide. All of his debt was transferred to you, on top of the debt you had already acquired from school. You are $624,105 in debt, with no job and a recent eviction for not being able to complete rent payments. You have no other familial connections.”

Tommy didn’t know whether he should punch this guy or run away. 

“How the fuck do you know that.” 

The man simply stood up and held the card out to Tommy again.

Tommy stared at the man directly in his rich, pretentious eyes, and grimaced.

He took the card.

Chapter Text

Tommy watched the man in the suit leave, then redirected his attention back to the card. It was brown with three black shapes printed on one of the sides: a circle, a triangle, and a square. Weird. He turned it over. 

On the other side was a phone number, but Tommy didn’t have a phone anymore. 

“Fuck.” Tommy really wanted to know what these mysterious games were. It’s not like he had any other plans for the day. 

Tommy scooped up his backpack, and walked out of the metro station to a small dollar store nearby. He bought himself a cheap umbrella with some of his winnings, exchanging two dollars for quarters while he paid, then made his way down the sidewalk once more to try and find a public phone-box that was actually in service. After about half an hour, he came across a working one, and fished out the card and his quarters to call the number. 

It was a strange call. In all honesty, Tommy thought it sounded like a scam or a kidnapping set up. But the almost-robotic voice on the other side of the line told him to wait outside his old apartment building at midnight to be taken to the games, and Tommy still didn’t have any plans. He wrote down the password the voice gave him on the back of the small card.

Tommy decided, after the strange voice hung up on him, to treat himself to a meal at an old diner that he used to go to with his brother. He didn’t know if he would ever have the money to go there again.

~~~

It was 12:02 am. Tommy had been waiting in front of the apartment building since 11:50. He didn’t have a watch, but he was starting to think he should just call it a night and find a cheap motel, since he had some money now. It would be nice to sleep in a bed again for just one night. 

But then a van pulled up in front of where he was standing on the sidewalk, opening up to reveal people in pink jumpsuits, their faces covered by black masks with shapes on them, just like the card. 

Tommy held on tightly to one of the straps of his backpack. This didn’t feel right at all. 

One of the masked people asked him for a passcode.

“Shit- Uh- One minute-” Tommy dug through his pockets to find the card he wrote the password on. “Mellohi? That’s it, right?”

The person standing in the doorway moved aside. Tommy took it as a signal that he was allowed in.

When Tommy climbed inside the van, he saw five other people in the very back of the van, all unconscious. His heart nearly stopped. He wanted to get out now, but the person was already sliding the door closed. 

Tommy thought he was going to die as a gas was released. It made him tired until his eyes closed, and he collapsed on the floor. 

Chapter Text

Tommy shot up in the bed he was laying in to hear a loudspeaker playing music. His breaths were shaking and shallow. 

Where the fuck am I?

He looked around to find hundreds of other people, dressed in identical teal tracksuits, getting up from their tall bunk-beds held up by steel frames. Some were gathering in the center of the huge room. Some stayed close to the structures. Some were frozen in panic like Tommy.

Tommy looked down at himself to find he was also wearing a teal tracksuit. Freaks.

There was a patch ironed on to the left side of his suit with the number “074” decaled on it. He looked around again and saw everyone else had a number on their jackets as well. Their white shirts underneath also had their numbers on them. 

Tommy thought he was having a fever dream. Or that he was dying. 

Tommy flinched as the doors to the large room opened. A group of people in pink jumpsuits, just like those from the van, marched out. 

“Welcome players,” the person at the front of the group began. 

Tommy crawled to the end of the bed for a closer look as the guard continued speaking. His hands were clammy and shaking- he hated everything about this. 

He saw someone in the crowd raise their hand. “Question. Why the fuck did you kidnap us?”

The crowd was filled with agreement. 

“This center must be kept secret in order to keep the games fair for all players.”

The crowd was filled with discussion.

Tommy raised his hand from the bed he was on. “Second question. Why the hell did you change our clothes when we were asleep? I don’t remember ever consenting, freaks.”

The crowd was filled with more agreement. Some people laughed. 

“It is our priority to keep the games fair for all players. Your uniforms reflect this.”

“Now, if there are no more questions, we will resume our explanation.”

Tommy and the rest of the players directed their attention to the large screen above the doors as it flicked on.

“You will be playing various games, that will be revealed at the appropriate time, to earn money. The prize that the final winner of the games will receive totals to $45.6 million.”

The players watched the screen as numbers ticked by until the counter reached “$45,600,000.” The crowd erupted in chatter and awe. Tommy never realized that many zeros could be connected to a single bank account. He, too, stared at the sum with his jaw to the floor. That amount of money could propel him well out of his homelessness and debt. He could even go back to college if he wanted to.

“With that,” the doors opened again, and a few more pink guards brought out tables. They placed them at the bottom of the stairs that led up to the doors. “We have prepared contracts for each of you to sign to ensure there are no miscommunications as the games are commencing. Please form two lines in front of the tables you see in front of you.”

As the other players hurried to form lines, Tommy climbed down from the bunk-bed to join the crowd. He reached his spot in the line behind a shorter boy than himself. Tommy rubbed the ends of his jacket as both lines continued moving, impatient despite the line moving along at a reasonable pace.

The line still continued to move without much stalling, until the boy in front of him reached the front. The boy stared at the paper, reading it carefully. He looked up at the guard behind the table.

“It says here that we can leave any time we want, right?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

“What’s the catch? There’s always a catch with these things, right?” Tommy silently wished the guy would just move on.

“If the majority of the players decide to end the games, the accumulated prize money will be distributed evenly among the remaining players.” The guard responded. Tommy was going back on his wish now. This was important. 

The boy stared at the guard for a moment, then signed and left to the bunks. 

Tommy stepped up to the table.

“Please, sign here.” The guard gestured to the contract in front of them. 

Tommy picked up the pen laying beside the contract. The paper only had three rules for the games: 

“You must keep on playing” 

“You will be eliminated if you refuse to play” 

“The game can be ended or skipped if voted by a majority of people.” 

It said nothing else.

“That’s it? Only three rules?” Tommy questioned. By the amount of time it took the last guy to read the contract, he thought there’d be more words on it.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“What games are we playing though? No one’s told us what we’re actually playing?”

“The games and their instructions will be announced when they begin. Players are not allowed to know the games beforehand to ensure all players have a fair chance at passing.”

Tommy thought for a moment, then signed the contract. He left the table to go back to his bed, where he would wait for the first game to begin.

Chapter Text

It took a while for all of the players to finish signing the forms. Tommy didn’t know what to do with his time, and mostly just sat there people-watching. Some players were talking amongst themselves as others signed. Some were trying to hide, still afraid of the suddenness of their situation. 

The guards left, then came back half an hour later, instructing all of the players to follow them to the first game. 

Some players ran to follow the guards through the doors. Tommy went with the majority, who were simply walking. 

Tommy couldn’t help but gasp as he took in the tall, colorful staircases the guards had them walk up, single file. It was something Tommy could only describe as an acid trip. 

The guards led the players to four stations, where they lined up in four lines to have their pictures taken. Some people posed. When it was his turn, Tommy smiled as widely as he could muster, raising both of his middle fingers to the camera. 

The camera flashed, and an automated voice said, “Welcome, Player 074.”

A guard motioned for him to proceed up another set of stairs, and he followed the players who had already had their pictures taken. They were led into, what looked like, a polished industrial elevator, lined up in groups of four. The elevator, when it stopped, opened up to a dirt-covered, football-sized field. The walls were decorated with the illusion of the dry field stretching farther than it really did, and a light blue sky peppered with fluffy clouds. 

On the far end of the field, there was a large tree, a tall, fairly creepy doll in front of the tree, and a timer on the wall behind it. 

Tommy and the other players stepped out of the elevator. To their right, a second group of players were exiting their elevator. They were in as much shock as Tommy was. This “game” hadn’t even started, and he was already freaked out. 

A robotic voice sounded from speakers hidden around the arena.

“Players, the first game will be ‘Red Light, Green Light.’”

Tommy let out a sigh of relief. He’d played this game when he was a kid. Hell, he’d won almost every game he participated in. 

“When the color is green, all players will run to the finish line. When the color is red, all players must stop moving, or they will be eliminated.

Players, please make your way to the starting line. Do not step over it until the game begins, or you will be eliminated.”

Tommy made his way to the white starting line with the rest of the players. In the distance, just after the doll, he could see another white line. The finish line. 

Easy win!

A little way down the line, Tommy could hear some people talking. He heard one of them gasp, the sound of their body falling on the dirt echoing through the arena. Tommy leaned back to see that someone had accidentally pushed another person over the starting line. As the person went to help the fallen player up, a gunshot rang out. Tommy fell back in shock, his heart beating wildly.

“Player 023, eliminated.”

The player who had pushed 023 screamed. Then others around them began to scream and ran to the elevators. Tommy was frozen on the ground. He couldn’t move. He had just witnessed someone get shot, what was he supposed to do?

The robotic voice sounded again. It told the players that if they did not line up at the starting line, they, too, would be eliminated. 

Many of the players stopped banging on the elevator doors, and cautiously made their way back to the starting line. Tommy slowly made his way there as well, staying behind others in fear of being pushed over the line. 

They all knew what eliminations meant now. 

“Green light!” the robotic voice sounded again, only this time, from the doll. Tommy was horrified by the way its head was turned away from the players. 

The first game had begun.

A lot of the players at the front of the group ran. One in particular sprinted ahead of the group, their long legs carrying them faster than the other players. 

Tommy felt sick, but he took a step forward, faintly recalling the rules that the contract had written on it. 

“Red light!” The doll’s head did a full 180, scanning the players with its glowing red, camera eyes. Tommy grit his teeth and stayed as still as he could.

A gunshot or two rang out, and it took all the willpower Tommy had not to move from his position to run and hide. There was nowhere he could go regardless. 

The doll turned around again, announcing the color change, and Tommy decided to run forward with the rest of the players. He nearly slipped when the doll turned again. Someone did, and they were eliminated. 

Tommy flicked his eyes upward at the timer, careful not to move his head. Three minutes left. His eyes flicked to the finish line again. The tall player from before was almost there. 

Two more times the color changed. Tommy was almost there, he could taste the victory awaiting him. People were dying around him, but he could think about that when the game ended. Right now, all he could focus on was living.

Green light. Tommy ran forward. 

Red light. Tommy stopped. 

He heard someone yelling before they were silenced. 

Green light. Tommy almost reached the finish line. 

Red light. Tommy toed the white line with his dusty slip-ons. 

Someone else was yelling now. He couldn’t tell if it was for their life or his own. 

Green light. Tommy felt someone pull him over the line. They fell to the ground as the color changed quickly to red again.

A buzzer sounded as the timer ended. The robotic voice announced this, and Tommy covered his head as the renaming players on the field were shot. He looked back to find the field covered in blood and bodies of those eliminated. He could feel himself growing pale. 

The person who had pulled him over shook his shoulder. Tommy whipped his head around to face them. They were also pale and sweating, a small splatter of blood on their face. 

“You-You alright, man?” the person shakily asked.

“Yeah… Yeah. I’m alive. You-You are too. That’s good, right?”

“Right. Yeah. We’re alive.”

The two boys began to laugh hysterically. There was nothing else they could do.

Chapter Text

After “Red Light, Green Light,” the players were escorted back to the bunk room.

Tommy lost sight of the player who had pulled him across as they were being led down the long staircases. However, he remembered the player’s number. When he arrived with the rest of the players back where they had started that day, Tommy kept a close eye out for the boy. 

Eventually, he spotted the player’s bleached ends and the blood on his face. Tommy practically jumped down the ladder to the player, shouting, “HEY! HEY YOU! 125!”

Player 125 just stared at Tommy as he rushed toward him. 

“It’s me! From the game-the last game! You pulled me across the line, remember?”

Player 125 took a good look at the blonde in front of him. “Oh yeah! 074!”

Player 125 grabbed Tommy’s arm, pulling him along to a small set of stairs next to some of the bunks. Tommy kept up. 

“Hey, listen, I heard that some people were grouping up on the way here.” 125 spoke with urgency. “Do you want to be a team? ‘Cause-like- we don’t even know what we’re playing, or the other people here, and I kinda want to leave before I die, y’know?”

Tommy thought about the stranger’s offer, looking around at the other players. 125 was right, many of the players were already establishing groups. Very few were alone. 

Tommy didn’t want to be alone. 

He turned back to 125. “Sure, man, let's team.”

125 grinned. “Alright! Awesome! My name’s Tubbo, and yours?”

“Tommy, my name’s Tommy.”  He mustered up the courage to grin back at Tubbo. 

The doors suddenly flew open again, a few pink guards walking through them. All of the pink guards now carried guns. Tommy and Tubbo hid behind a tower of bunks. 

“Congratulations, players, for making it past the first game,” a guard with a square on their mask announced. 

A player stormed over to the guards. His eyes were a gray-purple, and glowing with rage. “The hell you mean ‘congratulations?’ We almost died! You fuckers were shooting anyone who moved!” 

“Per the rules of the game, if a player moves on ‘Red Light,’ they will be eliminated.” 

The player tried to climb the stairs to the guards, a murderous look in his eyes. However, the pink guards pointed their guns at him, and he backed down, hands raised in surrender as he moved away from the stairs. 

“All players have signed a contract before the beginning of the games, and any player who attempts to challenge the rules of the games will be eliminated. This is a warning.”

A player closer to the back of the room raised his hand. Tommy and Tubbo directed their attention to him as he spoke. 

“Questions are still allowed, right?”

“Questions are permitted. Violence against guards is not permitted.”

“Cool. Do we get food in here? Or is that another way you’re trying to kill us?”

“I am kinda hungry to be honest,” Tubbo whispered to Tommy.

“Same, that guy has a point.”

Someone from across the room shouted, “Finally! Someone with sense!”

Tommy and Tubbo had to force themselves not to laugh. 

“Food will be brought out in ten minutes for all players.”

Some people nodded.

“Now, we will proceed with the results from the last game,” the guard continued. “91 players were eliminated during the first game, bringing the total prize to $9,100,000.”

A clear piggy bank descended from an opening in the ceiling. Everyone stared as bundles of money were dropped into the piggy bank. Tommy was both horrified at the implications and awestruck by the amount of cash that was in there.

Ten minutes later, as promised, six guards walked through the doors with two tables, and two carts carrying tins. 

“Please line up in front of either table in one single file line per table.” 

Tommy let Tubbo go in front of him as they made a line to pick up their food. Spaghetti. As the pair made their way back to their corner, Tommy saw the tall person from the last game on one of the higher beds. They looked delighted at what the food was. 

Tommy and Tubbo sat and ate together in their corner. 

“So,” Tommy decided to get a conversation going between bites. “How old are you? I’m 19, probably older than you.”

Tubbo swallowed a bite. “Damn, you’re still in the teens? I’m 20.”

“You don’t look like it, big man.”

“That’s rude,” Tubbo chewed and swallowed. “I’m your elder! Respect me, y’know?”

“Not a chance! You’re only a year older- probably just by a few months! I’m turning 20 soon too, y’know!”

“Whatever, man,” Tubbo ate some more of his food. “Anyway, I should probably ask, why’re you here?”

“Money? Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“Well, yeah, no shit.” Tubbo rolled his eyes. “I meant, like, you had to have been desperate for money to believe some weird dude with some dice, right? So, what happened to make you come here?”

Tommy pushed his spaghetti around the tin with his fork. “Uh… I have a lot of debt. I lost my apartment and it’s hard to find anyone that will hire a homeless 19 year old, y’know? So, I thought this would be an easy way to make money… I didn’t think people would be dying. What about you? What’s your deal?”

Tubbo put his fork down, looking out at the other players who were eating and talking amongst themselves. 

“I started a company with a friend. We did electrical work and robotics. It was going well, but- uh- there was an accident…” Tubbo subtly gripped his right arm. 

“Anyway, the company went under, and now I’m broke with a fuck-ton of debt and a son to feed. And I’m sure as hell not telling my aunt ‘cause she told me not to go through with it and-”

“You have a son?” Tommy stared at Tubbo with wide eyes. Tubbo seemed to shrink under his gaze.

“Well- uh- technically? But also not really?” Tommy stared at Tubbo, awaiting an explanation.

“He’s- He’s technically a distant cousin, but I just call him my son. It’s on paper and everything now. His parents just couldn’t take care of him anymore. It’s good for taxes too!”

Tommy looked horrified. “Then why the fuck did you come here?”

“‘Cause I can’t raise a kid without money? And if I can’t get a stable income soon, the government is gonna take him away from me. They won’t even provide resources to help. Assholes, I’ll tell you.”

“So- So where is he now?”

“My apartment. I left food for him, and told him that if I’m not back after a week to call my aunt with his text-to-speech. He’s seven, he’s smart, he’ll be fine.”

“You seem way too chill about this big man.”

“I’m not.” Tubbo looked at Tommy and smiled. “I’m trying to figure out how to convince everyone to end the games. I can’t lose my son.”

Tommy and Tubbo looked up at the ceiling as the lights began to dim. An announcement sounded, letting the players know they had half an hour before lights out.

The pair decided to abandon their original beds to make sure they stayed together. They knew they had to stick together if they wanted to survive.

Chapter Text

Tommy and Tubbo were startled awake by the same cheery music as the day before.

Tubbo groaned into his pillow, then grabbed it and used it to cover his ears. 

Tommy shot up in his bed, rubbing his eyes and trying to adjust to the bright lights that had flicked on. 

The doors opened, a group of pink guards walking out. 

“Tubbo! Tubbo, they’re back!” Tommy whispered loudly as he reached over to Tubbo, shaking him to wake him up. Tubbo groaned in response, but slightly lifted the pillow to see what Tommy was talking about. 

Many people climbed down from the bunks, gathering in the center to hear the guards’  announcement. It was mostly a welcoming to a new day, explaining that the games would take place shortly. 

It was then that Tubbo jumped out of bed, remembering his plan. He pushed through the crowd, that had shrunken from the day before, to get as close as he could to the front. 

“Wait! Wait! Wait!” Tubbo shouted, raising his hand as he ran to the front. Tommy stayed by the tower of bunk beds, watching his new friend. 

“You guys said that we could leave if we didn’t want to play anymore, right? That was part of the rules!”

“Yes. Rule 3 states, ‘The game can be ended or skipped if voted by a majority of people.’”

“Okay… Okay, so, how do we vote?” Tubbo turned to face the crowd. Tommy could see his face flush red from nerves. “There has to be at least some people who don’t want to play anymore, right? Like, we just saw a ton of people die yesterday! Who would want to play after that?”

A man with pink hair, closer to the back of the room, raised his hand. Tommy recognized him as the guy who asked about food. 

“The prize isn’t high enough for me. I want to keep playing.”

“Come one, man,” Tubbo tried to reason. “The money can’t be worth more than your life, right? The lives of all the people here?”

Another man next to the pink-haired man raised his hand and spoke up. “Well, I asked the guards yesterday, and they said the prize would be split among the players if the games ended early. That’s only around $20,000 for each of us, mate.”

The pink-haired man nodded along with the other’s words. They must’ve been talking about it the previous night.

Tubbo turned back to the guards.

“That is correct. If the games end now, each player will receive a total of $24,931.”

The room was filled with chatter once more. Tommy could tell Tubbo’s heart had dropped to his stomach. 

“However, if the players wish to leave it to a vote, we will be happy to accommodate.”

Tubbo quickly turned back to the crowd. “You heard the guy! Who wants a vote?”

Tubbo looked over at Tommy, then back at the crowd, his eyes pleading. “Come on people, I have a kid at home I need to get back to, and I know that there are some of you who can’t leave their families behind either, no matter the prize!”

Tommy raised his hand. “I agree! Let’s vote!”

More people began to raise their hands. Even the two men at the back raised their hands, although everyone already knew what side they would vote for. Some kept their opinions to themselves. 

The guards left through the doors again, returning minutes later with a stand displaying two buttons. The left button was red with an “X” on it. The right button was blue with an “O” on it. End or continue the games. 

The floor lit up as well. A glowing white line ran down the center of the room. The left side of the floor was lit with a red “X,” and the right side was lit with a blue “O.”

The screen above the door displayed the counter for each “X” or “O” vote. 

There were baskets with red and blue patches so players knew who voted to stay or leave, if the counter wasn’t enough. 

“We will now call each player up to vote in ascending number order.” One of the guards announced. “Player 001, please cast your vote.”

Player 001 walked up to the stand, proudly pressing the “O” button. He applied his patch slowly, patting it and smoothing it down. 

Tubbo almost screamed. 

As Player 001 walked away, he looked at Tommy and Tubbo. His eyes practically glowed green. The duo shivered. 

By the time Tommy was called up to vote, the people who wanted to stay were winning by ten people. As Tommy grabbed his patch and walked away, the blue voters were winning by nine. 

Players continued to vote and make their way to their respective sides of the room. The pink-hair man and shorter, blonde man were players 099 and 098. They both voted to stay. 

The man who tried to attack the guards voted to leave. He was player 103. He walked to the back of the room. 

Tubbo voted quickly, practically ripping the patch out of the guard’s hand and running back to Tommy. 

A few people made sound effects as they pressed the blue button, like one guy with a golden tooth. Red was losing.

Tubbo and Tommy were becoming desperate. They began yelling at the people who walked up to vote, trying to make them too guilty to press blue, or legitimately trying to sway their vote. Some of the other reds joined them. This method worked to convince some people.

The tall player Tommy had seen twice before was next to vote. He was Player 199, and he didn’t press a button quickly. He looked like he wasn’t even bothered by Tubbo’s yelling and pleading. 

Player 199 looked up at the scoreboard, questioning it, then nodded. He then pressed the red button, took a patch, and walked to the back of the room. 

Although it wasn’t much, Tubbo and Tommy had gained a little hope. They only needed five more votes to pass blue. 

209 votes for blue.

Red had lost.

The next game would begin shortly.

Chapter Text

Tommy and Tubbo held hands as they were led to the next game. Tommy needed someone to keep him grounded. Tubbo needed someone to keep him from attacking any blue voters. 

The guards led the players directly to a room instead of an elevator. When they stepped through the doors into the large room, they were greeted by yet another sandy floor, with walls decorated with windows leading to nowhere, resembling a school. On the left and right part of the ground were two separate rainbow racetracks, each circular and identical. There were flags representing various countries overhead as well. 

As the players gathered near the door, the guards called for their attention.

“Please form groups of exactly five players. You have ten minutes to find your teammates.”

There was a clock above the door that beeped, beginning a 10 minute timer. 

Players dispersed into the room, negotiations and conversations covering the ticking of the clock.

Tubbo let go of Tommy’s hand to grab the boy’s arm. Tommy had noticed his new friend had been wearing an arm brace. 

“Okay, you and I make two teammates. All we need are three more! Easy!” Tubbo spoke.

Tommy looked around the room. Most people were already forming teams. 

“Let’s go now, to find the biggest men for the Tommy squad!”

“Who decided our team was called that?” 

“Me, of course, ‘cause I’m the biggest man!”

“Sure buddy.” Tubbo dragged Tommy into the crowd, and they began looking for players without teams.

Soon enough, they came across two more players who seemed to already be together. Tommy approached first. 

“What-up big men! Would either of you, possibly even both of you, be interested in joining the Tommy Squad?” Tommy struck a pose, doing jazz hands. Tubbo felt like he was sinking into the sand. Player 103 and the ginger in front of them cringed. This would get them nowhere.

Tubbo pointed to their jackets and spoke up. “You guys both want to leave, right?” Tubbo referenced to Tommy and himself. “So do we. If we team, all we need is one more player. We can help each other get out faster.” 

The ginger sighed. “Alright, sure.” He offered his hand to the duo to shake. “My name’s Fundy.” 

Tommy grabbed Fundy’s hand. “Tommy, and that guy’s Tubbo.”

“What about you?” Tommy looked at Player 103. “We saw you yell at those guards earlier, you’d beat any game those shitheads put us in! You attack head on!”

The boy shrugged. “Why not. Call me Purpled.”

“What kind of fuck-ass name is that?”

“It’s my username online. Why would I tell you people my real name? I don’t know you?”

Tommy began arguing with Purpled about how stupid he thought that was.

Tubbo looked up at the clock. Two minutes left.

“Shit,” he muttered. 

“I’ll be back. Stay here.” Tubbo quickly walked away from the group, searching through the crowd for anyone without a team. 

He came across a man with a shaved head, and tapped on his shoulder.

“Hey, you need a team? We’re looking for a fifth member.”

The man turned to face Tubbo. “Sorry man, I’m part of a group already.”

A girl with fading pink hair ran over to them with another player. “Jack! I found a fifth member!”

Jack gave the girl a thumbs up, then turned back to Tubbo. “See, Niki here is the best teammate I could ask for. We’ve got this in the bag. I would ask you to join too, but she just completed our team. Sorry again.”

“It’s fine. See ‘ya, man.” Tubbo waved to Jack as he left the team alone. 

“See you around!” Jack waved back.

There was barely a minute left on the timer, and Tubbo was still searching through the crowd. He hadn’t spotted anyone, until there were 30 seconds left.

Tubbo saw a tall boy standing between a few teams. He looked lost. 

Tubbo quickly ran over to him. “You!”

The boy jumped, looking down at Tubbo. “Me?” He pointed to himself. 

“Do you have a team?”

“No? I-I don’t really-“

“Great,” Tubbo grabbed his arm. “You’re part of my team now. Come on!”

Tubbo took off running back to Tommy, dragging the boy along with him. They reached the group just as the timer came to an end.

Afterwards, the guards had the teams sit in the center of either track. Any players who hadn’t formed full teams were sorted into groups randomly

“The game you will be playing,” a guard began, “is Six-Legged Pentathlon. You will start with your legs tied together. Each member will take turns playing a mini-game at every ten-meter mark, and if you win, the team can move on to the next one.

Here are the mini-games:

Number one, dice.

Number two, flying stone.

Number three, jacks.

Number four, spinning top.

Number five, hacky sack.”

The guard gestured to each area as they spoke. “Your goal is to win all the mini-games and cross the finish line in five minutes. You will now be given one minute to assign games to your teammates.”

Once again, the room was filled with the noise of conversation while the clock began ticking. Tommy looked at the row of his teammates, and they, too, looked at each other. 

“Alright Tommy Squad, what games are we good at?”

Fundy spoke up first. “I think I can do jacks?”

“Alright, that’s one. Anyone else?”

“I- uh- I can do hacky sack?” Everyone turned to look at the random player Tubbo had grabbed. They hadn’t really noticed he was there. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Tubbo elbowed Tommy. 

“He means what’s your name?” Tubbo and the other teammates waited for an answer. 

“Um- Player,” the boy looked down at his jacket, “199.”

“No, dude, your name. Not your number,” Purpled responded. “What do you want to be called?” 

Player 199’s eyes searched frantically around the room. There were 30 seconds left. Quickly, 199 noticed the rainbow racetrack surrounding the crowd of players. 

“R-Rain-Ran…Boo. Ranboo. Yeah, Ranboo.” Player 199 looked at his teammates, repeating his name as if he, too, was hearing it for the first time. 

“Weird-ass name, but sure. You’ll do hacky sack. Let’s keep going guys.”

By the end of the timer, it was decided that Purpled would play dice, Tubbo would play flying stone, Fundy would play jacks, Tommy would play spinning top, and Ranboo would play hacky sack.

The guards called for volunteers from both of the racetrack crowds. Two teams rose and walked to either start line. The guards roped their legs together, making it so that they were forced to time their steps and move at the same pace. 

Tommy was getting anxious just watching them. 

Tubbo noticed that the group on their side of the racetrack was the same team that he had spoken to just minutes before. He pointed this out to Tommy, then grabbed his friend’s hand again after seeing the look on his face.

A guard fired a gun at the ceiling, signaling for the race to begin.

The girl—Niki, Jack had called her—was up first. She and a guard at the first station knelt down and rolled their dice at the same time. Niki won on her second try, and her team advanced with a few shouts and cheers from the crowd. 

As the game continued, Tommy took note of how they were counting their steps. They created a rhythm to keep themselves from tripping, something the team on the other track figured out too late, and was falling behind. 

Flying stone was passed with little trouble, and Jack, unsurprisingly, was up for jacks. Throughout his and the other team’s attempts, the crowd continued to cheer the players on. Tommy and his team even joined in towards the end. Jack and Niki’s team was still going strong, and when their fifth player managed to bump the hacky sack five times in a row, the crowd erupted in cheering. Jack and Niki’s team yelled and screamed with joy, hugging each other and hopping around. 

It was then that the buzzer sounded.

Gunshots rang throughout the room.

“Players 021, 034, 069, 123, 345, 456, 423, 143, 035, and 090, eliminated.” 

They had never crossed the finish line.

The room fell silent. 

Then came the protests. 

“THEY FINISHED ALL YOUR STUPID GAMES!”

Then the threats from the guards. 

“Please, remain seated. Or your teams will be eliminated.”

And just as quickly as the protests had started, two new teams were lined up at the starting line. The team on Tommy’s side was the first team to cross the finish line, and were met with a crazed celebration from the crowd. Tommy and Tubbo noticed players 099 and 098 were on that team as they exited through the double-doors. Player 001, the weird green eyed man, was also on that team.

Teams continued to play, and the crowds continued to cheer for them. Many players completed the game. Many others were eliminated. 

By the time it was Tommy and his team’s turn to play, the childlike rainbow pattern of the track was muddied by the blood of eliminated players. 

Tommy shuddered at the thought as his legs were tied to people he had met mere minutes before. 

The gunshot sounded, and his team began counting, “1-2-3,” as they walked as quickly as they could to the first minigame. 

Purpled and the guard knelt down. He inspected his die, holding it at a particular angle, then rolled it as the guard rolled theirs. He won on the first try, and the shrinking crowd erupted in cheers.

The team made their way over to flying stone, where Tubbo was handed a rock. He held it tightly, then released it toward the stone in front of him as if he was curving a baseball. It nearly missed, but the stone fell. The team was about to move on before a guard stopped them.

“Your foot was over the line. Your play does not allow your team to move on. You must collect your stone and-”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it!”

The team carefully made their way over to where the stone was thrown. They were able to retrieve it and walk back as a guard corrected the other stone. This time, Tubbo made sure his feet were behind the line, and the team was able to advance.

At jacks, the team knelt down with Fundy as he tossed the small bouncy-ball into the air. He swiped two jacks at once, catching the ball and quickly throwing it up again. Everyone watched the boy intensely, and cheered as he threw everything down after completing the challenge. 

Tommy was up next at spinning top. A guard handed him the rope and top, and he shakily wound the rope around the swirl indent. With two and a half minutes left, Tommy was starting to lose hope. When he flicked the top, it barely spun before falling. The team groaned before going to retrieve it. This time, when Tommy wound the rope, he felt his heart hammering in his ears. 

They were all going to die here. It would be his fault. 

Tommy felt Ranboo grab his shoulders, and turn him so that they were facing each other. Tommy got a good look at him for the first time. His teammate had vitiligo and heterochromia. It was something other than the game he could focus on, and Tommy could feel himself start to calm down. 

“Don’t say that, man. You’re going to spin that top, and we’re all gonna cheer, and we will make it out!” Ranboo spun Tommy back to the game. Tommy hadn’t even realized he spoke his thoughts out loud. “You got this!” 

Tommy took a deep breath, and flicked the top. The team and the crowd watched as it spun, and met the required time. 

As the crowd cheered, the team moved on to the final game. Ranboo was handed a pink hacky sack, and he broke out in a cold sweat. 

“Please, no one look,” Ranboo said quietly. His demeanor seemed to have completely changed from when he spoke to Tommy. 

“You heard the guy! EVERYONE! LOOK AWAY!” Tommy yelled to the crowd, and him and his teammates turned around along with the crowd. 

They could faintly hear the sound of the beanbag being kicked on Ranboo’s foot. They counted each time he kicked the hacky sack in unison, “...4…5!”

Everyone turned back to Ranboo as he kicked the hacky sack away from himself, having met the requirement for the game. 

The crowd erupted in strong cheers as the team made their way to the finish line with only ten seconds left. 

Just as they tore the ribbon at the finish line, the buzzer sounded. Gunshots rang out in the background, but all Tommy could focus on was the screaming and tears of his team. They fell to the floor as their numbers sounded overhead. 

“Players 103, 125, 127, 074, and 199. Passed.”

Chapter Text

After they had completed the second game, Tommy, Tubbo, Fundy, Purpled, and Ranboo were all escorted back to the main room by two guards. The other team that had been playing at the same time as them had lost, so they were the only ones walking through the colorful halls. 

Tommy, personally, hated how every decoration was so colorful and eye-catching for such a horrible, deadly game. However, he decided that he would feel even worse if the games were decorated like a basement from some crappy horror movie. 

When the team reached the room, there was a small group of people inside composed of the teams who had completed the second game, just as Tommy and his new friends had. 099 and 098 were back in their corner, chatting as if nothing had happened, with 001 and a few others lurking near them. Tommy wasn’t too surprised, 099’s team had finished with a minute still on the clock, after all. Everyone had been shocked. 

Tommy and Tubbo led the others to the corner where the bunks they had been using were. It was opposite to 099’s little gang’s corner. Tommy gave the pink-haired man a scowl as he passed by, but the man had no reaction. Tommy thought he was weird, but not as weird or straight-up creepy like 001 was. Tommy didn’t want to be anywhere near that guy. 

Fundy, Purpled, and Ranboo chose their bunks around and above Tommy and Tubbo’s as more players slowly trickled into the room. There weren’t many that followed Tommy and his friends. 

Before they knew it, a group of pink guards walked through the double doors just before the stairs to announce the game had concluded. All of the players watched as the clear piggy-bank was illuminated once more. 

“110 players were eliminated during the second game, bringing the total prize to $20,100,000,” a guard said as bundles of money were dropped into the piggy-bank above them. “If the games are to end now, each player would receive $78,823.”

Tommy exhaled shakily, looking over to the other corner. 099 and his gang still did not look satisfied. 

“We will now vote again to determine if the majority of players would like to leave or continue the games.”

There were 255 players still in the game, and nearly 200 of them voted to stay. Tubbo stayed against the wall on his bed. He was in the far corner. 

“Thank you for your votes, players. The majority has decided to continue the games.”

“No shit,” Purpled mumbled.

“We will bring out meals shortly.”

Tommy and the others lined up together to receive their food for the day. Tubbo had murder in his eyes again. 

The group gathered back at the bunks, trying to forget about having to play another death-game in a few short hours. They opened their tins to semi-soggy chicken tenders and a handful of thick potato wedges. They each had a carton of milk to go with their food. 

Tommy grimaced as he took a bite of the tender. “Hey, I mean- the school ones were worse than this, amiright?”

“They’re not too bad.” Fundy ate a potato wedge.

“I think they’re really good!” Ranboo was happily eating and drinking his milk. 

“Alright, man, too far. You gotta be a freak to love this shit.” Ranboo frowned. Tubbo hit the bottom of Tommy’s milk carton lightly as he was drinking from it. Tommy coughed and glared at Tubbo. 

“So,” Purpled began, trying to break the ice, “how’d you guys get here? What’s your deal?”

“You go first, since you’re the one who asked.” Tommy pointed at Purpled with a potato wedge. 

“Sure. You see that guy over there?” Purpled pointed to a man on a top bunk. He was wearing a beanie, his black mullet poking out from the back and sides. “I used to work for that guy. That asshole stole my credit card and spent nearly a million dollars on it when I left. The company is refusing to hear me out, and I’m in massive debt now, with no way to pay it back. I would’ve voted to stay, but I can’t stand to be in the same facility as that guy.” 

Purpled stopped, turning back to Tommy. “Your turn.”

“Uh- I have a lot of debt from school and my guardian’s debt got transferred to me when... he died...” Tommy scratched his neck. “Anyways, I lost my apartment, then my job, so I kinda need the money to get off the streets.”

Purpled hummed in acknowledgement, then asked about Tubbo. 

“To keep it short: I had an electrical and robotics company with a friend, then there was an accident and we had to close it. I have custody over my little cousin, so I need a stable income or else CPS is gonna take him away. He’s been alone too long, and I don’t want him to have a losing streak forever.” Tubbo took a swig of milk. 

“Oh, that ‘I have a son’ thing makes more sense now,” Fundy commented. 

“And you, Fundy?” Tubbo asked, trying to take the conversation away from his kid. 

Fundy stuttered. “Uh- I’m- um- I’m trying to leave the country. I gotta get a visa, then citizenship for where I’m leaving to. I also gotta pay for housing and travel. I’m kinda broke right now and really need to leave.” 

“Why? Are you, like, a criminal or something?” Tommy looked at Fundy suspiciously.

Fundy’s face burned red. He gripped his tin tighter, looking down at the food still waiting to be eaten. “I’m- um… I’m transgender,” Fundy whispered, as if the guards would barge in and shoot him there and then if he spoke up.

“Oh.” Tommy instantly felt bad for pushing. 

“Hey, man, don’t worry. We’re all cool here, right guys?” Ranboo was the first to try and affirm Fundy. Everyone nodded in agreement. 

“I don’t mean to pry, but is it ‘cause of the new laws and shit they’re passing and pushing for?” Tubbo asked. 

“Um- Yeah, kind of. It’s that and because I used to live in a… kind of scary area? I- uh- I took a few trains to a different city to get away, but I blew almost all my money doing that. I could leave the country if the games stopped now. I’d still need to save up for treatment, but it would be great to get out.”

The group just sat together for a while, eating and enjoying each other’s presence. Conversation picked up again when they were finished eating. 

“Hey, Ranboo,” Tubbo directed everyone’s attention to the boy sitting atop a bunk above everyone else. “We never asked about you. Why’re you here?”

“Oh, I just- I have a lot of debt too. I came here for the money.” Ranboo nervously pressed his thumbs together in his lap. The others didn’t push for more of an explanation this time.

Chapter Text

“That kid was looking at you again, mate.”

“I know.”

Techno and Phil watched as 074 and his teammates walked to the corner opposite to them. 

“I’m surprised they even made it. They all looked scared to death. Like sitting ducks, the poor things.” Phil turned his head up at Techno. “We should go talk to them, don’t you think?”

Techno frowned, turning to stare at the shorter man. “Why would we do that?”

“Well, they’re probably still teens. In their early twenties, at most. Oh, if I didn’t need so much money, I would’ve voted to get out of here already.”

“But I need the money. Both of us do.”

Phil sighed. “I know, I know.”

“They’re our opponents,” Techno crossed his arms. “The sooner they’re eliminated, the sooner we can get enough money to be stable enough to get the hell out. It’s just the way this game works.”

A few players in the bunks near 099 and 098 listened in on their conversation, fear in their eyes caused by the calm, pink haired man. He held himself with dignity. He knew his strength and would be loyal to anyone he called a friend. In their hearts, they felt as if he was somehow in control of their fates. A God, able to stop the flow of their blood and snap their necks if he so pleased.

And the short, blonde man— he scared the nearby players as well. He wasn’t young, they could tell by the way he spoke, as if he had lived many lifetimes. He didn’t look old, either. Yet, the worry chasm between his eyebrows and creased smile lines tracing his mouth showed he had been happy, at least once upon a time. An immortal soul, no doubt.

The guards walked in again. More money from the fallen players piled into the piggy-bank. The guards announced the total prize, then the split prize if the games were to end.

“It’s still not enough for me,” Phil whispered to Techno. “I’d need a few hundred-thousands. What about you?”

“It’s not even close to what I need.”

“So, we’re staying?”

“Yeah.”

The men voted blue once more, then walked, together, to their spot at the back of the room. They sat on beds that were next to each other. They were above the floor, but not quite at the top. Phil leaned against the wall, while Techno sat cross-legged in the middle of his bed. 

“Hey, Techno?” Phil was the first to start a conversation. 

Players were still voting. There were still over 200 players, so they knew they had time before they would receive food. 

Techno was looking out at the players, all crowded in front of the back bunks, waiting for their turn to make their opinion known. Techno didn’t see the point in this. He knew the games would continue. 

“Yeah?” He responded without turning his head.

“We might be here for a while if those kids keep yelling at everyone, and I never asked earlier… Why are you here? You obviously need money, but why?”

Techno felt himself tense. Phil was the only one who noticed. 

“Why do you need hundreds of thousands of dollars?” Techno looked at Phil. His eyes were a deep, almost blood colored, red. It was a reason some other players joined their team in the last game— fear. 

“You brought the question up. Can you answer it?”

Phil only smiled, though, there was nothing happy or humorous about it. 

“My wife,” he began. “She’s been sick, and fell into a deep coma years ago. The doctors say she’ll never wake up, but I know that’s just not true! She… my goddess… She’s as immortal as the moon, the stars guarding the heavens! I’ll tell you!”

Techno listened to the man speak about his wife. He told him about their first meeting and their life together until voting was over and food was being brought out. The men didn’t go to the lines just yet.

Techno made a mental note to never ask this man about his wife, unless Phil really needed morale. He truly seemed to love her. 

“I’m around $970,000 in debt from medical bills,” Phil said abruptly, and Techno was taken aback. “Nearly a million, I know. The doctors, they must be doing the best they can, but… I know she’s not dead. She will wake up one day. We just need to give it time.”

The men sat together in silence until the lines were almost gone.

“Why don’t we go get some food?”

“That sounds nice.” 

099 and 098 climbed back up to their bunks once they had received their tins. They ate together in silence once more, until Phil spoke up. 

“Techno, why are you here? It’s your turn. Right, mate?”

Techno tensed again. He was silent for a bit. Phil waited patiently for him. 

“I’ve killed people, Phil.”

Phil’s eyebrow twitched. “Well, these games kill people. We’ve had a discussion about-”

“No. Phil,” Techno cut him off. 

“I’ve killed people. Outside of these games. I’ve killed people. A lot of people.”

Phil’s expression was neutral, never changing. Techno felt the man’s neutrality was worse than disappointment or the fear that was so obvious from the other players. No one here knew what he had done in life but the man in front of him. 

“001. He was on our team last game. We worked together, sometimes.” Techno tried to break the uncomfortable silence. 

“That makes sense,” Phil finally responded. 

“The- The killing? Or-”

“001. He called you an old friend.”

“He’s not really a friend. Only a partner. Strictly business, nothing more.”

“Okay.” Phil took a bite of a potato wedge, having finished his chicken tenders.

Techno just wanted him to scream, run away— do something other than sit there and calmly eat with a murderer. 

“The people you killed,” the blonde man began again, and, oh, how Techno wished he had given a shitty lie instead of the truth. “Had they wronged people? Or was it for fun?”

“Never for fun,” Techno responded almost instantly. “We had a hit-list, of sorts. 001 and I worked for a group. I looked into every person I killed. They were all terrible, I swear.” 

Techno, with his monotone voice, almost sounded like he was pleading with Phil. For why, he didn’t know. “If they were killed just ‘cause, I didn’t take those jobs. They had people for that-”

“I don’t hate you, Techno.” Phil looked at the pink-haired man, taking in the thick scar across his face and his eyes that had assumed the color of his victims. Eyes that seemed to be scanning Phil’s own face, searching for something, anything, to give away the man’s “real” judgement of him.

Techno didn’t respond. He didn’t know what he could say.

“I’m assuming you made your money that way, right?”

Techno nodded. He felt like he was a little kid again, standing in the middle of a street on a dare, in the city that he had once loved so dearly. He didn’t know if he could ever go back.

“The- The company, it shut down,” Techno found his voice again. “They released all our names—the traitors—and I need millions to pay off people to get me off of those lists.”

Phil nodded as Techno explained. “001 probably came here for the same reason.”

“‘Techno’ isn’t my real name, just so you know.”

“I figured.” And Phil laughed. It was a short thing, but the smile lines around the man’s mouth told him that it was genuine. “You planning on changing your real name, too, mate?”

There it was. The word, “mate.” 

“Kinda have to at this point,” Techno huffed. Phil knew it was a laugh, and returned it. 

And so the two continued to talk, and eat, and sit in silence, and talk some more. 

And they slept in bunks next to each other. 

And Phil dreamt of speaking with his wife once more.

And Techno stared at the bunk above him for another hour. 

And in that hour, Techno came to the horrible realization that he’d made a friend. 

It was something he had been avoiding since his first kill.

Chapter Text

Quackity was a gambling man. 

He drank. He played his cards with intention. He won.

Quackity was not one for friends. 

He made connections. He advanced the social pyramid at a rate nobody could imagine. He used people to get ahead. He had no time or need for “friends.”

Quackity had lost his casino in a fire.

He hadn’t been hurt, but his bank account suffered. These games were the perfect opportunity for him to make back what he had lost, and more. 

The pentathlon had been a close one. 

Player 028. A high, drunk bastard was not his first choice, but he shared his alcohol with Quackity. It was shit, but Quackity considered him useful. 

Player 444. An unsettling man with thick, boxy glasses was barely even considered by Quackity. His optimism nearly gave him a migraine. But he had no choice after the man had refused to leave his side.

Player 135. A man with shaggy brown hair, five seconds away from a breakdown, somehow knew the games before they played. Quackity didn’t believe him at first, but he had been smart not to let him go. 

Player 009. A man with sharp, almost shark-like, teeth and an impressive build. Despite his appearance, however, he had asked kindly if he could join Quackity’s team. Quackity was off-put once more, but agreed. 009 was the least strange of the team. 

They passed, of course. A team that Quackity built could never lose. 

Quackity could never lose. 

The gambling man was under the impression that, once the pentathlon had concluded, the team would disband, and go their separate ways. He didn’t want to stick around with any other players longer than he had to. 

It created unnecessary attachment.

It was dangerous. 

“Player 426! Player 426!” Player 444 jumped on Quackity’s back, repeating Quackity’s number. Quackity threw him off, but the man only got back up and walked alongside Quackity. 

“So, we won together! That makes us friends now, right, Player 426?”

Quackity shot a glare at Player 444. “Stop saying that number. I don’t do ‘friends’. You stay away from me, you got that?” 

The man looked straight back at Quackity, unfazed and smiling. “I think you’re lying, Player 426.”

Quackity grabbed Player 444 by his jacket, pushing him against the railing of the staircase.

“You say one more word, and I’m throwing you over the edge, you got that?”

Player 444 made a zipping motion across his mouth just as a guard put a gun to Quackity’s head. Quackity released Player 444, and the group made their way back to the bunk room in silence. 

Quackity stood alone in the crowd of players waiting to vote. He voted to stay, of course.

Quackity would win the full jackpot. He wouldn’t just take a portion as a compromise. The rest of the players could die for all he cared. 

Quackity received his food, and sat atop the highest row of bunks in the room. It made him feel more powerful. 

Player 444 appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, on the bed beside Quackity. Quackity didn’t pay him any mind. 

Player 444 waved at the gambling man, chewing a chicken tender. Quackity focused on his own food. It tasted like shit. He would eat like a king when he was out of this place, not like a schoolboy. 

Quackity grumbled to himself as he reached inside his tin again, only to find he had finished his food. 

“Do you want some of my potatoes, Player 426?” Quackity glanced to his right. Player 444 held out his tin of a few potato wedges, his smile lopsided. 

Quackity slammed his tin shut. “I’m not a charity case. I don’t need your food.”

Player 444 frowned, bringing his tin close to himself once more. He ate a wedge, then looked at Quackity again. 

“It’s not charity, Player 426. I’m sharing!” The man held out his tin again. “The potatoes are pretty good!” 

Quackity scoffed and rested his back against the wall. “Then eat them yourself.”

“Okay!” And Player 444 ate his potato wedges beside Quackity. He had moved to rest against the wall as well. 

Players 444 and 426 sat together for a while.

Quackity felt strange. He was almost… comfortable with 444’s presence. This couldn’t be good. 

“444,” Quackity heard himself speak, “What’s your name?” He didn’t know why he was asking this stranger such questions. He cared about no one here. He didn’t need to know their names. This was a stupid, stupid mistake. He was an idiot. He—

“Charlie!” Quackity looked at Player 444, with his dumb, thick glasses and… never wavering smile. “And you, Player 426? What can I call you?” 

Quackity had never hated himself more. This really was one of the biggest mistakes of his life. Still, how could this “Charlie” guy not know the great, powerful—

“Quackity. The owner of the grand Las Nevadas Casino!” The man could almost feel himself smile with this stranger. This couldn’t be good. 

“The one that burned down? I saw that on my TV!” 

Quackity felt his heart clench. No, he could not continue to have idle conversation with this… this… idiot. He would only get in the way. He was—

“I’ve wanted to meet you forever!”

“...What?”

“Yeah! A man with goat horns came to me in a dream. He made me eat a golden apple, and we shot guns, and he told me I should maybe find you!”

And… there it was again. This guy was probably crazy. He should tell him to get away. 

“I could work for you, Mister Quackity. I like cards. My friend taught me some tricks!”

Quackity realized he had been scratching his neck. He forced himself to stop. “I’m not a magician. I’m a dealer. A host. A gambler. None of that magician shit.”

“I can learn!” Player 444—Charlie—said with a smile.

That smile. Charlie’s smile.

Quackity was not getting attached. He couldn’t afford to be attached. 

“How would you like to learn a few things from me—the great Quackity of The Las Nevadas Casino!—right now?”

Screw it. Screw everything he was working towards—at least for a moment. He could teach this guy some of his principles right now. Charlie—Player 444—could be his backup. Yeah, this guy would be his backup during the games going forward.

“That would be amazing, Quackity of Las Nevadas!”

Quackity was a gambling man. 

Just this once, he bet on green. 

Chance, in this game of life, might get him somewhere.

Chapter Text

Time was moving quicker than the group expected as they made conversation, and it was soon time for lights out. Everyone fell asleep quite easily. 

However, Tubbo woke in the middle of the night to quiet mumbles in the row of bunks above him. He sleepily rubbed his eyes, looking up at Ranboo’s bed to find him curled up with his knees to his chin, his back resting against the wall. Tubbo slipped out of bed, climbing the ladder that led to the taller boy’s bed. Ranboo was startled as Tubbo sat down across from him. 

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked with a slight tilt of his head.

“Uh-Um- Yeah- Yeah, I’m fine.” Ranboo rubbed his eyes and cheeks. 

“You’ve been crying, haven’t you?”

“Um-”

“Are you scared?” Tubbo tried to take in Ranboo’s face in the dark. “It’s- It’s okay if you’re scared. We all are.”

“No- Uh- No, I’m fine. Really. I’m not that scared.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Tubbo genuinely sounded worried. Ranboo didn’t know how to feel about that. It had been a while since someone worried about him. “I won’t tell the others, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ranboo didn’t answer, so Tubbo continued to speak quietly. “Are you trans too? Or is it your family? Your debt? Something another player said? The-”

“No- No- Just- I’m fine. I’m fine.” Ranboo’s voice cracked, sounding like he was going to cry again. Tubbo stopped asking. 

The two sat together for a few minutes in silence. Then, Ranboo spoke up.

“I… I don’t have a lot of debt. I lied.”

“Oh.” Tubbo paused. “Do you… um… wanna talk about the real reason? You don’t have to, of course, dude, it’s okay.”

Ranboo took a deep breath. “Just- Promise you won’t tell the others? At least not right now? Or when the lights turn back on later?” Tubbo nodded, and Ranboo drew another breath.

“The truth is, I can’t really remember anything. I have really bad memory, and it’s only getting worse. I can’t even remember my damn name, so I made one up on the spot earlier. Heck, even how I got here is getting fuzzy.”

Tubbo was silent for a moment to take in Ranboo’s confession. “That… makes more sense now…” He paused again. “Is there any way to stop it? Like, regain your memory or help with forgetting things?”

“Well… I was taking medication for it before my insurance cut me off- that I do remember. I… uh… haven’t been doing well without it. A month or two ago, I lost my apartment. As in, I don’t remember where the hell it is.” Ranboo let out a dry laugh.

“I was gonna jump onto the subway tracks, before that recruiter guy got to me.” 

Tubbo swore he felt the blood leave his face. 

“I heard from some other people that he was smacking them when they lost, but… he just sat with me, and we played a few rounds…” Ranboo took a pause.

“I don’t want to live like this anymore. It’s been too long to be reversed with medication… But, if I do win any money, I’d want it to go to someone with a bright future ahead of them…” Ranboo smiled sadly at Tubbo. “Like you.” 

Tubbo wanted to scream, to grab Ranboo by the shoulders and shake him until he agreed to let Tubbo find a way to help him. 

“You… You could stay with me… after this is over?” was all Tubbo could get out of his mouth. This took Ranboo by surprise. He sat up a little straighter, eyes widening.

“Huh?”

“Yeah. You could meet my son, Michael. I think you’d like him.” Tubbo smiled. “Funny kid.”

“I’d like that.”

Chapter Text

Cheerful music sounded throughout the bunk room, waking all of the players. 

Tubbo sat up with bloodshot eyes. The night before, he had stayed up with Ranboo for a while, then moved back to the lower bunk.

He threw his pillow at Tommy, then turned and faceplanted onto his mattress once more. Tommy threw both his own and Tubbo’s pillows at Tubbo, starting an argument between them. 

Ranboo rubbed the crust from his eyes. Fundy was staring at Ranboo incredulously, annoyed by the two below them both. 

Purpled lounged in his bed, awake, but not willing to involve himself in whatever was going on down below. 

The group of guards came out of the double doors. 

Tommy and Tubbo stopped arguing as the guards welcomed them to a new day. Tommy and his friends all rolled their eyes. Ranboo was the only one who was actually listening. 

Afterwards, the guards lined all of the players up to escort them to the next game. Tubbo stayed closer to Ranboo as the 255 players walked down the winding staircases to the next game room. Tommy trailed right behind the two. He was confused as to why Tubbo had suddenly insisted on staying with Ranboo. 

The room the players were led into this time was decorated like a circus tent. The walls were covered in red and white stripes, and there was a huge platform in the center. Along the walls were doors, each the color of the rainbow. The center of the platform held a pedestal with horses that were part of carousels Tommy had ridden when he was younger. 

“The game you will be playing,” a guard began, catching the players’ attention, “is Mingle. All players, please step onto the center platform. When the game starts, the platform will begin to rotate, and you will hear a number. You must form groups of that size, go into the rooms, and close the door within 30 seconds.”

The players made their way to the platform. Tommy and his teammates from the previous game stayed together on the edge of the platform. They agreed it might give them a headstart when the numbers would be called out. 

Tommy almost fell forward when the platform began to spin. It was slow, but it had lurched forward at the start. Music began to play as well, giving the whole arena an eerie vibe. Tommy didn’t like it one bit. 

Tubbo grabbed Tommy and Ranboo’s arms as the platform spun, round and round. Tommy began to glance around, noticing some of the other people who were on the edge of the platform. 099 and 098 were there, close together, ready to run. Purpled’s "nemesis" and a few others he didn’t recognize were there, too. 

Then, the music stopped and the lights dimmed. A number, “Ten,” was called out, and the arena devolved into chaos. 

Tubbo immediately ran forward, and Tommy felt so lucky to be one of the two he was hanging on to. Ranboo and Tommy had a late start, but were pulled along with Tubbo and quickly came to their senses. The trio ran towards the first open door they saw. They made it in, and Fundy and Purpled followed them. 

Tommy realized they only had five people in the room. There were still people on the platform, and some people running. 

“HEY!” he called out, “WE NEED FIVE!” Tommy held up his right hand, “FIVE MORE PEOPLE! COME ON! HURRY! PLEASE! FIVE MORE!” 

People came running towards their door. Purpled counted how many came in, until he yelled for Tommy to close the door. But he was still shouting. 

Tubbo ripped Tommy from the door, and Fundy was able to shut it. The timer ran out seconds later, and the whole room seemed to hold their breaths as gunshots and elimination announcements rang through the rest of the arena. There were some screaming, silenced by clean shots to their heads, or multiple to their hearts. 

Tommy’s hands were shaking by the time the shooting was over, and he was holding in the urge to cry. He was a big man, and big men didn’t cry. It was something his brother had told him many times before his death— the guns— he didn’t want to hear any more guns—

Tubbo was on the floor with him at the back of the small room. His head was resting against the wall, and his eyes were shut tight. He held Tommy’s hand, and Tommy held his. 

Ranboo stood in front of them, shielding the two from the view of the other players in the small room. He sighed with relief as the shooting stopped, and vehicles could be heard to remove the dead from the arena. 

When the doors opened again, Fundy and Purpled let the five other players file out before doing so themselves. One of the players stopped in the doorway instead of leaving to the platform. 

“Hey, is… is that guy okay?” The man gestured to Tommy, who was being helped up by Ranboo and Tubbo. His number, Fundy noticed, was 009. 

“He’ll be fine. Just mind your own business.” Purpled waved the man off. 

“Okay. Just checking.” 009 gave a weak, toothy smile, and walked back to the platform. Fundy and Purpled followed soon after. 

Ranboo, Tommy, and Tubbo were together at the edge of the platform once more. Tommy was in the middle of the two this time, holding the hand of both of his friends. And the platform spun, round and round, with no care at how the players it was holding were feeling. 

And the platform stopped abruptly, once more, as the next number was called. “Four.”

Tubbo pulled his friends to the nearest door, and the three ran because their lives depended on it. 009 followed them, and he shut the door as soon as all four were inside. 

Tommy ran for the back of the small room, leaning against the wall and covering his ears as the timer ended. Tubbo stayed near him. 009 was in the middle of the small room and Ranboo was closest to the door when the gunshots sounded. There was more screaming, shooting, cursing— then the sound of vehicles coming to remove the dead once more. 

During the calm period, 009 spoke up. “Hey, uh, I asked another guy earlier, but is he okay?”

“Oh yeah, he’s full of joy right now. Can’t you tell?” Tubbo snapped back, holding the hands of the boy who was seconds away from a panic attack. 

Ranboo tapped the man’s shoulder. 009 turned around to face him. “Tommy will be okay, don’t worry. It’s just… a lot, for all of us. But especially him.”

009 nodded. “Um, I’m Fin. Or, uh, some people, usually friends, call me Foolish.” The man gave a weak laugh. 

“I’m Ranboo. The brunette’s Tubbo, and—uh—you know Tommy.”

The doors sprung open again. 

“Well, if you ever need more players, call for me! Or if you need help in general, I’ll be here!”

Ranboo gave a small smile. “Thank you, Foolish.” He winked. Foolish giggled.

Before the trio knew it, they were back on the spinning platform, going round and round. Tommy was shaking, with Tubbo practically glued to his side in an attempt to ground him. Ranboo was scanning their surroundings, trying to think of what number they would call out next. 

The platform stopped, the lights dimmed, and the number “three” was called out. The trio blinked, and they were suddenly at a door. Tubbo rushed inside with Tommy, while Ranboo was stuck at the doorframe, fighting an older man for the last spot inside the room. Tubbo let go of Tommy for a moment, running over to Ranboo and the other player. He kicked the man in the stomach, and pulled Ranboo inside the room. 

Tubbo shut the door. Tommy threw up in the corner. 

Ranboo knew they were friends now, but it still confused him as to why Tubbo chose him over someone who probably had a fulfilling life back home. A wife, kids, maybe?

Screaming, shooting, cursing, then vehicles. Ranboo was finding a morbid rhythm in this. 

Tommy looked like death by the next time they were on the platform. Tubbo stuck right by his side, and Ranboo held his left hand, rubbing the back of it slightly. The music played overhead, then everything stopped. The lights dimmed, and the number “six” was called out. 

Tommy ran for a door, breaking away from Tubbo and Ranboo, only to be tripped by Player 001. He cursed as his chin slammed on the floor, seeing the man leave in a different direction out of the corner of his eye. 

Ranboo and Tubbo caught up with him, quickly helping him up, and the three were pushed through the door as more people filled in. The door closed before the trio knew what was going on, and there was suddenly someone screaming and yelling and banging on the door inside of their room. 

Purpled was here, and so was Fundy. The black-haired man Purpled had told them about was the one screaming and yelling and banging on the door. 

“GRAYSON!” He screamed. “OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR RIGHT NOW! YOU SON-OF-A-BITCH!”

Tommy was gagging in the corner. He felt dizzy and sick. 

The man banged on the door, peering through the little window near the top. 

“Quackity…?” Ranboo could almost make out from the other side. 

“CHARLIE! CHARLIE! IT’S GONNA BE OKAY, CHARLIE! PLEASE! CHARLIE!”

“Thank you… Quackity…”

The timer ended. The gunshots began. One of them was right at the door, and Tommy threw up again. 

The man at the door, Quackity, slid down to the floor, holding himself and shaking and sobbing. Ranboo saw no eyes through the window of the door. Quackity sobbed harder when the number “444” was called out. The man must’ve lost a friend. 

Purpled felt no remorse.

Ranboo turned back to Tommy and Tubbo.

Tubbo was rubbing his friend’s back as Tommy dry-heaved. 

Ranboo felt tears begin to fill his eyes. He walked over to comfort his friend, too. 

Ranboo and Tubbo guided Tommy back to the platform once the doors opened. Their hearts were all beating out of their chests, but Tommy seemed to be taking their situation the worst. If they managed to make it back to the bunk room, Ranboo and Tubbo decided they would confront Tommy about it. 

If they managed to make it.

The platform spun once more, round and round. The music played in the background, making Tubbo want to rip his hair out. Tommy wanted to hide. He wanted to run and cry and hide—but his brother told him that big men don’t cry—

There was no time for comfort.

The platform and music stopped and the lights dimmed. The next number, “Two,” was called out, and the trio felt like the walls were collapsing in on them. 

Ranboo took hold of his friends’ arms, pulling them towards the first open door he saw. He pushed them in. 

“Ranboo–Wait–Boo–Whatareyoudoing—”

Ranboo pulled the door shut, leaving himself on the outside. Tubbo screamed for him, banging on the door and pushing, pulling, twisting the doorknob. It wouldn’t budge. Ranboo had saved his friends, but Tubbo was ready to kill him before the guards would get a chance to. 

He could hear Tommy yell for him, too, but it was quickly replaced by gagging. 

“RANBOO- I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS FUCKING DOOR-”

Ranboo’s breaths were shaking and shallow as he backed away from the door. He was going to die here. At least, for once, he had small memories of his new friends that he could hang on to as he waited for death to take him. 

He closed his eyes. 

. . .

Tommy was about to lose a friend. He realized this as the taller boy shut the door, leaving Tubbo and Tommy trapped inside. 

Hell, this was worse than the race in Tommy’s opinion. There was no way out. The space was so tight and the walls were closing in on him and all he could think of was his asshole of a brother. The sounds of guns—the screaming—it was too familiar of a feeling to be this helpless. 

Tubbo continued yelling, cursing, trying to break the door open. Tommy nearly crumpled to the floor when the timer ended. He was going to be sick again. It was embarrassing how many tears he could feel already pooling in his eyes. With how much it burned, he thought he might be a demon— his tears holy water. 

It would be his fault. All his new friends would die here, and Ranboo would be the first. 

Tubbo’s yelling slowly came to a stop when the vehicles began to roll in. He was sitting by the door, holding himself. 

Tommy and his friend looked at each other from opposite sides of the room. They both felt so weak that they weren’t even paying attention to the numbers being called. 

Eliminations... These people were sick. 

Chapter Text

Ranboo’s breaths were shaking and shallow as he backed away from the door. He was going to die here. At least, for once, he had small memories of his new friends that he could hang on to as he waited for death to take him. 

He closed his eyes. 

. . .

Someone grabbed his arm, yanking him forward with a force stronger than Tubbo. 

Ranboo opened his eyes as he was pushed into a room. He fell forward onto the floor. 

Flipping around to face the door, he saw the pink-haired man, Player 099, throwing another person out of the room. The man shut the door just as the timer ended. 

He turned to get a look at Ranboo, and the boy was frozen by the deep crimson color of the man’s eyes. Ranboo stuttered, his hands pressing the floor harder. 

“You good?” The man asked, way too calm for their situation. Ranboo could only nod. 

“Y-You—There was—Weren’t you with someone?” Ranboo flinched as the gunshots began to sound. 

“Oh, yeah, Phil. He saw you and told me to grab you. He’s fine. He’s with someone else.”

Ranboo was utterly confused. “Why…?”

“He likes kids.” Ranboo raised an eyebrow, and 099 cringed. “Not like that— Phil saw your group and felt bad that there were a bunch of children here. When he saw you try and sacrifice yourself, he made me run after you. Crazy guy, I know.”

“I-I’m 20?” was all Ranboo could manage. “We’re all over 18?”

Techno shrugged. The shooting came to a stop. Then the vehicles showed up. 

“You’re younger than the old man, so he thinks of you guys as kids.”

“Are you just gonna sit there? ‘Cause I’m like, half sure they were shooting people inside if the numbers weren’t right.”

Ranboo looked at a corner of the room only to find that much of the floor was covered in drying blood. He nearly jumped to his feet. His jacket and pants had some residue of the blood. Ranboo shivered. 

“So…” 099 crossed his arms, leaning in the corner. “You got a name?” 

“Um—Yeah—Ranboo, I’m Ranboo.”

“Cool. You can call me Techno.” Ranboo nodded. There seemed to be a mutual understanding between the two that they didn’t belong, even in this game. 

“Um… Techno?” Techno hummed. “How… How are you so calm? Like— People are dying, and you-you’re just…”

“‘Cause I’m cool.”

“But—It’s like… I’m not really afraid to die.” Techno raised an eyebrow. Ranboo didn’t look at him. “But—The thought of others with lives that they need to get back to— Doesn’t it make you scared for them?” Techno’s brows furrowed. “Like—Tubbo, my friend. I left him and my other friend, Tommy, in that room ‘cause they have family they need to get back to-”

“And you don’t?” Techno cut into Ranboo’s rambling. Ranboo froze.

“...No… Not really…”

“How would they feel if you said that about yourself?”

“I don’t—” 

Techno approached Ranboo, and the boy could feel his shoes step in the blood as he backed up. 

Techno stopped when he saw the look on Ranboo’s face. 

He sighed. “Just— You’re a good kid, I can tell. You and your friends can stick with Phil and I, if you want.”

“...What?”

“You’re at least gonna want to stay away from 001. I knew him. If you want protection, Phil and I have more morals than him. He’s not someone you want to be around.”

“He tripped Tommy… when we were trying to get to a door.”

“Exactly. Stay away from him.”

Ranboo took a good look at the man this time. Around his waist was his jacket. 

“You voted blue, though. Tubbo would kill you and me if he knew about your offer.”

“Oh so that’s who that kid was.” Techno almost laughed. 

The doors swung open. The numbers of the players who were still alive sounded overhead. 

They passed the third game.

“Then just keep it in mind. We’ll be here.”

Techno left to find Phil. Ranboo waited in the doorway, not believing the game was over. 

Tubbo!  He thought. I have to find Tubbo and Tommy!

Ranboo ran left, the direction he was pulled, and saw Tubbo exiting. 

“TUBBO!” he yelled. Tubbo whipped his head around. Tommy stepped out right after him. They had both been crying. 

The two boys sprinted towards Ranboo, engulfing him in hugs that Ranboo returned. 

“YOU—YOU IDIOT!” Tubbo yelled, punching Ranboo’s chest. Other players making their way out of the area began to stare at the three. “NEVER PULL THAT SHIT AGAIN, YOU HEAR ME? NEVER AGAIN!” Tubbo looked up at Ranboo, holding his friend’s arms and shaking him. Ranboo’s eyes filled with tears. 

“You suck Ranboo. You’re actually the worst.” Tommy was covering his eyes. He didn’t want to be caught crying, even if his eyes were red and glistening already. “We thought you fucking died . Listen to Tubbo and never pull that shit again!” 

Ranboo swiped at his own eyes, hiccuping as tears began to fall. 

Friends. They truly cared for each other. 

Ranboo, for once, wanted to live. 

For his friends.

They were worth it.

Chapter Text

The night Quackity had met Charlie, he taught him everything he had learned from his years as the owner of a casino. 

He taught Charlie about trust and betrayal. 

He taught Charlie about gambling, and how the house always wins. 

But the topic they spoke about most in-depth was friends . 

Quackity hated this lesson especially, and tried to move on from it as quickly as possible. But Charlie kept bringing it up. 

His questions were more about trust than anything, but he continuously related it to friendship and alliances. Quackity would mostly give the man short, blunt answers, then move on and speak about the intelligence required to know how to play a hand right. 

Their conversations went on like this for hours, long into the night. If there had been windows or a clock in the bunk room, they would’ve known their conversations lasted until dawn. 

One question, in particular, made Quackity stop his half-assed answers, and really think . 

“Quackity?” Charlie had said, just as Quackity had paused to take a breath. Quackity hummed, and Charlie continued. “You keep saying that you don’t keep friends— that you don’t keep people around that long at all, unless it serves to help you.”

“Yeah. What about it?” 

“Well, you’ve been talking to me since before the lights went out. This goes against everything you’ve been teaching me. You’ve shown no ulterior motives this entire time.”

Quackity had noticed that the longer he spoke, the more robotic Charlie had begun to sound. Maybe it was just sleep catching up to him, but it still threw him off. 

“I–uh-”

“In fact, it violates your beliefs about trust and alliances. We’ve made no deals, yet you’ve shared everything about your livelihood with a complete stranger. Why?”

Quackity stared at the man for a moment, then sighed. “Look, I’ll be real with you for a second. Trust— it’s a complicated thing for me. You shouldn’t trust every person you meet, but that’s not saying you can push everyone away either.” Quackity paused. 

“You shouldn’t push everyone away.” The man looked down at his hands, rolling out his wrists and thinking about how to continue. 

“Charlie, I’ve made some questionable choices in life. Many got me far, but I had to push people away to do so. Just… be careful about making alliances and… trust. It can be dangerous.”

“Quackity?” The man looked back up as Charlie spoke. “I trust you… Should I stop?”

Quackity stared at Charlie. His eyes began to sting. 

“The people I loved… my friends… I couldn’t trust them. I learned that the hard way, and too late.” Quackity looked back down at his hands, biting down on his lip to stop it from quivering. “You’re the first person in a long time I’ve had a real conversion with… like this …”

Charlie reached over, putting his hands on top of Quackity’s.

Quackity looked up to find him smiling once more. That wide, goofy, lopsided smile. 

“We can form an alliance— Mutual trust! We won’t hurt each other, and we’ll stick together during the games! We’ll win together, and we’ll put the prize money into rebuilding the Las Nevadas Casino! We can work together, as business partners— not exactly friends, but you get the point, Quackity!” 

And for a moment, Quackity swore he saw the stars align in the reflection of Charlie’s glasses. This was what his life was missing— why he had felt so empty, even before his casino burnt down! 

A fr— business partner!

Yeah… He would win with Charlie.

And everything would be alright. 

And he would have his casino back.

And he and Charlie would eat and sleep and live like kings. 

They would rule the world.

. . .

Together.

. . .

In Charlie’s glasses, Quackity could see the world ending. 

The man behind the door was crying tears of stardust, and Quackity’s eyes leaked oil. 

Quackity hit and slammed and punched and banged on the door, hoping that, if his knuckles bled just enough, he would wake up next to Charlie in that damn bunk room. 

He would wake up and Charlie would be smiling that stupid smile of his.

And they would win, just the two of them, more money than they knew what to do with. 

“Quackity…?”

And they would be kings.

“CHARLIE! CHARLIE! IT’S GONNA BE OKAY, CHARLIE! PLEASE! CHARLIE!”

And they would rule the world.

“Thank you… Quackity…”

And Quackity was drowning in a sea of oil.

It filled his ears with muck and clogged his nose with grime.

He was suffocating while the real water was illuminated by the starry night sky. 

It was a beauty that he would never be able to reach for again. 

. . . 

Round and round. 

Quackity spun. 

Round and round. 

No wonder this place was decorated like a circus tent— it was all just a cruel joke. 

Happiness. That’s what he never taught Charlie about. 

Happiness. He had forgotten what it was until it was already gone. 

Players ran in all different directions. 

Quackity stayed put, swaying slightly. 

He didn’t care about the money anymore. He just wanted his only friend back. 

That was something money could never buy. 

He saw a tall boy lock himself out of a room.

The timer was almost gone.

It was almost over. 

A man with shaggy brown hair grabbed him around his shoulders as he ran. 

Quackity, briefly pulled out his own misery, ran along with him. 

The man had moved his hand down to hold Quackity’s arm. 

They ran into a room together. The stranger shut the door. 

They were both hyperventilating. It barely registered for Quackity. 

The man tried to speak to Quackity, but the gambling man wasn’t listening. He didn’t even bother checking the man’s number. 

Quackity had already lost. 

He went all in, and came out with nothing. 

Quackity would never bet on green again.

Chapter Text

The walk back to the bunk room was tense between the three. 

On one hand, Tommy and Tubbo were grateful that Ranboo hadn’t been shot and eliminated. 

On the other hand, they were very upset that he would even think of sacrificing himself. 

Tommy and Tubbo stuck to either side of Ranboo as they were escorted down the winding stairs and trippy hallways once more. It made some corners tight to squeeze through, and they nearly held up the line multiple times, but Ranboo didn’t dare argue. 

Ranboo could see Techno up ahead, walking behind 098. He knew he had to bring up the man’s offer eventually. 

When the players made it to the bunk room, the trio made a beeline for their corner, sitting down on two beds on the bottom level. Fundy and Purpled soon joined them at the corner, sitting in beds above the three. All five of them were silent. 

Soon after, the group of guards made their way through the double doors. The lights dimmed and the piggy bank above was illuminated by a spotlight. 

“155 players were eliminated during the third game, bringing the total prize to $35,600,000,” a guard said as bundles of money were dropped into the piggy-bank above them. “If the games are to end now, each player would receive $356,000.”

“We will now vote again to determine if the majority of players would like to leave or continue the games.”

Tubbo and Tommy did not shout at the other players to sway their votes this time. They, as well as their three friends, voted to leave. 

60 out of the 100 remaining players voted to stay. 

Tubbo could only hide his face in his hands as the food was brought out. Tommy and Ranboo stayed by his side. Their group was still silent.

The five received their tins, then sat back down on their respective beds. 

Slightly soggy deep-dish pizza. With milk, of course. 

Tommy grimaced. Tubbo sniffed it and decided to open his milk first. 

Ranboo took a bite, and almost immediately regretted it. 

Ranboo shook his head at the two, and Tubbo almost spit out his milk.

“Well, that’s one thing Ranboob won’t eat.” Tommy remarked. He was the first to break the silence. 

“The crust isn’t too bad, just don’t eat the bottom. Or the sauce and cheese.” Purpled called down from above. 

“I’m not touching that shit.” Tommy opened his milk. “Good luck in the bathrooms later.”

There was silence again as the boys picked at their food and chugged their milks. 

Fundy and Purpled were talking above the trio. 

This time, Tubbo was the first to speak up. 

“Tommy, we need to talk.”

Tommy wiped his mouth with his sleeve, his eyebrows furrowing with worry. “Why? Is it ‘cause of the shit pizza?”

Tubbo and Ranboo shared a glance with each other. Ranboo knew what this was about. 

This only made Tommy more confused. 

“I know we’re both pissed with Boo right now,” Tubbo began, shooting Ranboo an angry look, and Tommy nearly laughed. “But we need to talk about… you. During the last game, I mean.” Tubbo looked back at Tommy, his eyes filled with concern that made Tommy feel small. Ranboo held a similar look. 

Tommy felt like Ranboo didn’t deserve to be interrogating him like Tubbo was. He had acted stupidly during the last game as well. 

So he said just that. 

Ranboo had tensed, then sighed. “Tommy, Tubbo and I agreed that we needed to have a talk when we were in one of the rooms.”

“Well then why did you fuckin’ sacrafice yourself during that last round, huh? How ‘bout that, Ranboob?”

“Tommy,” Tubbo cut in before Tommy could say anything else, “We can have that talk later. Believe me, we need to. But we want to know more about you first.”

Tommy’s shoulders were nearly up to his ears, hands curled tightly into fists. He felt cornered. Small. 

Tubbo spoke again, “What’s going on, Tommy? You were throwing up and shaking and muttering about the guns and your br–”

“I was just scared, okay? Everyone gets fuckin’ scared. There’s nothing weird about that, so you can stop interrogating me now.”

“Yeah, we were all scared as shit, but you looked like you were going to die from that fear alone! We just–” Tubbo sighed heavily, and Tommy grimaced. 

“Your brother.”

Tommy felt his face lose all color. His friends noticed. 

“The two things you kept muttering about were the guns and your brother. We just want to know what that was about.”

Tommy looked down at his knuckles that were white from how tightly his hands were curled. He felt cold and clammy. And small. 

It seemed like he had only blinked before Ranboo was kneeling in front of him, trying to hold his hands and counting for him to breathe as if he was a child. He felt small. 

Tommy ripped his hands away from Ranboo, looking up to face Tubbo. His lips quivered. He rubbed his face with his hands. Ranboo backed away to sit beside Tubbo. 

Tommy took a few deep breaths. Ranboo and Tubbo didn’t speak while their friend composed himself. 

His voice was quiet and wavered when he next spoke. “He was a shit brother— an asshole, I can tell you that.”

“Did… something happen to him?” Ranboo said quietly, and Tommy sucked in a breath. 

“He died.” Tommy didn’t want to look at Tubbo and Ranboo anymore. He knew the tears were going to start rolling, and he didn’t want them to see that. 

“How…?” Tubbo also spoke quietly, as if Tommy was a glass that he was trying not to shatter. 

And it was the question Tommy had been dreading the most— something the police and his landlord and the very few people who bothered to show up to his funeral had been asking him since it happened. 

“He locked me in the closet and shot himself.” Tommy grit his teeth as the atmosphere around the three became thick and stale. He saw Tubbo and Ranboo share an increasingly concerned glance. 

“Is that why—”

“I don’t– I don’t like to talk about it ‘cause everyone keeps asking me that same fucking question and I don’t– I don’t wanna hear it anymore– and I was supposed to start therapy ‘cause the fuckin’ police said I needed to– but that asshole passed all of his stupid debt to me and I had to quit school and I had a campus job so I got fired and I couldn’t pay rent so I got kicked out and– Will– he– he left me with nothing . Not a note. Not a goodbye. The last conversation we had was a fuckin’ argument where we yelled at each other for so fuckin’ long that we got another noise complaint and– and then he locked me in that closet that I had to break out of and– he– I fell onto him and he had blown his fuckin’ brains out and I had to talk to the operator on the 9-1-1 ‘cause– ‘cause he was– he was dead and I couldn’t do shit !—”

Tommy gasped for air, briefly pulling himself out of his rambling. Tears were pouring down his face, but he couldn’t even bring himself to wipe them away. 

Tubbo and Ranboo were both hugging him tightly. Tommy faintly felt himself cling onto Tubbo, as he was the first person he registered. 

Tommy was shaking. If his friends weren’t there, he most likely would’ve collapsed right there and then. 

Tubbo and Ranboo held Tommy close for a while. How long it took for Tommy to stop crying didn’t matter. They wouldn’t even bring it up later on. He wasn’t any less strong for letting his grief out the only way he had the capacity to. 

Tommy rambled a bit more after clinging to Tubbo. 

“I don’t like bein’ in small rooms–”

“I heard the shot–”

“He– He took me in when no one else would– but he was so shit at it–”

“There was too much of that noise in that stupid game–”

“I can’t stand blood or death or any of that shit they have us seein’ in here–”

And Ranboo and Tubbo still held Tommy close and rubbed his back and let him vent to them. They shed a few tears themselves. 

But they didn’t say a word about Tommy’s brother or the fact that he was crying. They knew it would only make him feel worse. 

Fundy and Purpled in the beds above them heard much of what Tommy was saying, but they chose to pretend they didn’t. It sounded too personal for them to be involved in. 

When Tommy stopped speaking, it was to gasp for air. Then, he took deep breaths, and wiped the tears hastily from his eyes and cheeks. 

Tubbo and Ranboo let go of him, but they stayed close by his side on the bed. 

“I– I’m sorry.” Tommy was quiet, small . 

Yet, next to Tubbo and Ranboo, feeling this small didn’t feel as frightening as it had been before. 

“Don’t be.” Tubbo assured him that it was okay. “We said we’d stick together, right? None of that will change.”

“And– And thank you for telling us about this.” An almost sad smile crossed Ranboo’s face. “It means a lot to know you trust us.”

And Tommy wanted to cry again. So he did. 

It still burned, and with anyone else, he would’ve tried to stop it immediately.

But he was still a “big man” in Tubbo and Ranboo’s eyes. 

That’s all that mattered to him right now.

Chapter Text

Techno and Phil had walked out of “Mingle’ together. 

Techno followed behind Phil down the winding stairs back to their bunks. 

They agreed that the payout per person was still too low.

They voted to stay. 

It was only after the pair had gotten their food and retreated back to their high beds that Phil confronted Techno about the last round. 

“So, 199 is still alive. I’m assuming you listened to me and pulled him along with you?”

“Yeah.” Techno drank a little of his milk. 

“That’s good. I don’t think I could live with myself if one of those kids died last game.” Phil smiled, opening his tin. He chuckled, “Oh, I remember these awful pizzas during school!”

“Phil,” Techno stared down at his tin. Phil tilted his head, Techno noticed from the corner of his eye. The older man acted similarly to a bird sometimes. Techno found this amusing most of the time. 

But not now. He was ashamed that he had to admit something like this to Phil. 

“I offered him help. Protection, by the both of us, for him and his friends.”

Phil was genuinely surprised. He straightened his neck. 

“I– Did he accept?” 

“He– He said the short one would kill him and I. It’s ‘cause I voted blue.”

“Oh.”

“I– I shouldn’t have done that, so I’m sorry. It was a spur of the moment thing. He just… I don’t know.”

“Oh, it’s alright, mate. I’m glad you made that offer instead of scaring the kid.” Phil chuckled again. Techno stared at the man. 

“But– We’re trying to win here? They’ll just get in the way. Creating attachment will make it more difficult to achieve what we came here to do.”

“So… no making friends?”

“Exactly. It will only slow us down.”

“Techno, we didn’t know each other before the games.” Phil tilted his head again and smiled. Techno’s eyes widened at that realization. “We became friends here, mate.”

“Yeah– but– but this is different. We can both win and still have enough money for our own goals. Adding more people will lower the… amount of money…” Techno trailed off. Phil showed a small amount of worry. 

“What’s wrong, mate?”

“The kid… 199… he didn’t want the money for himself.”
Phil’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He– In the game, he told me he has no family– no where to go if he gets out of here. He doesn’t even want the money, he just wants to keep those friends of his safe.”

Phil’s eyes widened and he was silent. “That makes sense… he did try to sacrifice himself earlier, after all.”

“Yeah.” Techno opened his carton of milk again, but didn’t drink. 

“If just us and the kids survive, we should have enough to be fine when we get out.”

“But 001 is here.”

“And?”

“And he’s not gonna want to share.”

“So, we’ll try and make a deal with him. That, or we’ll bet on him being eliminated in the next game.”
Techno sighed. “Phil, you don’t understand. This guy– he’s borderline insane . He doesn’t care who you are or why you’re trying to win the money, he’ll kill anyone who gets in the way of his goals.”

“Well, there’s no harm in trying. Right, mate?”

Techno didn’t respond. 

Phil’s smile dropped. 

“Tell me more about this kid, 199,” Phil spoke after a few seconds. “You had a talk with him, right?” 

“Yeah… Yeah, his name's Ranboo. Oh, and he’s 20. He said they’re all at least over 18.”

“Alright… Ranboo is 199. Anything else?” 

Techno told Phil about the short conversation Ranboo and he had. He described the boy’s nervous movements and stammering speech. Phil listened and took everything in with the intention to remember it for later on. 

Phil was determined to not let the five of those people die during however many games were left, Techno could tell. 

Techno didn’t know if any one of them would survive at all.

Chapter Text

Quackity hadn’t moved from his bed since he voted to leave. 

He didn’t leave to get his food. 

He hadn’t looked up at the money. 

And now, during lights out, he couldn’t bring himself to lie down and close his eyes. Every time he did, all he could see were Charlie’s pleading eyes. Then 444’s acceptance. 

“Thank you, Quackity.”

The man rubbed his eyes harshly, clawing at his neck and trying to shove down any feeling he had left in his heart. 

This is why he never made friends. 

This is why he never got close to any business partners he worked with. 

Everything always went to shit. 

He felt… empty. 

He couldn’t bear to look at the empty bed beside him. 

In front of him was his jacket. 

He was at the end of the bunks. The highest bed he could find. 

He felt so, so low. 

Maybe Quackity could fly. He thought about this as he tied his jacket around his neck. He felt like he was back in high school, dressing up to hang with his group of popular friends.

Did he ever really have any before Charlie?

Quackity laid down, hooking one end of the jacket to the end of the pole at the head of the bed. 

Oh, who was he kidding? 

Charlie was an angel. 

Quackity would be sent to hell. 

Quackity rolled off the bed. 

He was choking. 

He was dying. 

He stopped struggling.

SNAP!

Quackity landed with a THUMP on the floor. 

He gasped for air, eyes blown wide with the shock of his fall.
He felt his neck with shaking hands, nearly wincing at the pain of the bruising and rawness of where he had scratched. It hurt. 

It hurt, yet he kept pressing. 

And pressing. 

And pressing. 

Until he felt another pair of hands carefully hold his own. 

They were clammy and shaking, but so was Quackity. 

Quackity looked up through his watery eyes to find 135. 

They both looked like they had seen ghosts. 

The two stared at each other for a minute. Just breathing. 

Quackity was still breathing. 

“Y-You’re bleeding,” The man in front of him whispered. 

Quackity stared at Player 135. Then, he croaked out, “I’m supposed to be dead.”

“But you’re not.” Player 135 held Quackity’s hands more firmly. “You need to live, man. You-You need to live.”

Quackity tried to push himself upright. Player 135 helped him, leaning him against the wall. 135 was still holding his hands. 

They stared at each other for another moment. 

Quackity could feel the blood from his neck trickle down into his shirt. He let 135 hold his hands. 

“You… Let’s go to the bathroom,” 135 whispered. “To clean your-” He tried to move one of his hands away. Quackity didn’t even realize how tightly he was holding them back. 135 didn’t say anything about it. “Your neck.”

Quackity didn’t speak as 135 helped him up. 

He barely flinched when a shock of pain ran up and down his side. 

The two slowly made their way to the door that led to the bathrooms. Quackity leaned against one of the sinks, and 135 quickly got a paper towel to wet. 

Quackity squeezed his eyes shut as 135 carefully pressed the paper towel to his neck, cleaning the cuts and soothing the darkening bruises. The man continued to apply paper towels until the wounds were no longer visible. 

“There, that should help at least a little.” 

Quackity sat down on the tiled floor, leaning his head against the cold wall and closing his eyes. The bright pink stalls and fluorescent lights were starting to give him a headache. 

135 hesitated before sitting down next to him, making sure to keep his distance. 

They sat in silence for a while. 

135 kept looking over to make sure 426 was still breathing. 

“...I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Quackity croaked out. 

“Oh, it’s fine, man. I was already awake.”

Silence.

“Your name’s Quackity, right?” Quackity opened his right eye, glancing at 135. He nodded slowly. 

“I’m Karl. I– uh– I figured I should introduce myself.”

“I don’t make friends. I don’t care who the fuck you are,” Quackity snapped. “You should’ve hung me back up. You would’ve been doing me a favor.”

Quackity and Karl looked away from each other. 

“I… don’t want to kill people. I was just desperate for money, that's all.”

Quackity glanced at 135 again as the man spoke. He noticed the red patch on his jacket. 

“You seem… not too bad. You seem nice, Quackity.”

Quackity glared at the man beside him, blood slowly seeping into the paper towels around his neck. The dampness of them helped cool down the pain.

“I’m not nice , Karl. You don’t know any of the shit I’ve done. You wouldn’t be helping me if you knew.” Quackity looked away, back down at his own hands. 

“You lost someone close to you here... I wanna say it was last round?” Quackity’s eyes widened again. He didn’t look up. 

“That’s why you tried to… um…” Karl trailed off. “Anyways, you don’t think it’s worth it to stay, even if you manage to win. You care a lot, Quackity. You’re at least a little nice, I’d say.”

Quackity felt a drop fall onto one of his hands. But it wasn’t red.

“How the fuck do you know that.” It was more of a demand than a question that Quackity hissed through his clenched teeth. 

“I’m kinda psychic, I guess. I get weird visions sometimes, but I’m also pretty good at reading people.”

426 stared at Karl. “That’s how you knew the games before— during the pentathlon.”

“Uh- Yeah. It was a vision I had the night before.” Karl rubbed his neck lightly. 

There was something unsettling about this man, 135— Karl. It was a different type of unsettling than what Quackity had experienced with Charlie, however. Quackity almost felt as if he had seen Karl before, known him from somewhere. 

“Hey, Karl?” Quackity muttered after a small silence.

“Yeah?”

“Where are you from?”

“Oh, uh— I’m from Wisconsin, but I moved to LA when I was younger.” 

Quackity had never been to Wisconsin or LA.

He didn’t understand his own fascination with the people in these games. He had never cared for anyone before this, and look where doing so got him?

“Karl, have you ever visited Las Vegas?” Quackity picked at his cuticles as Karl thought. 

“Mmmm... No, I don’t think so. The only gambling I really do is in arcades.” Karl let out a soft laugh. “I know you’re the owner of that casino that burned down, but that’s not really why you’re questioning me, is it?”

Quackity looked up, staring at Karl’s face. Deja vu was the only word he could use to describe what he was feeling. 

“I feel like I’ve seen you before... It’s weird.”
Karl softly laughed again, then shrugged. “I get that a lot. I just have one of those faces, I guess.”

Quackity was usually very good at reading people. It was common-place in his line of work to figure out people’s ulterior motives and bluffs. 

Charlie was an exception in a lot of ways. 

Quackity had no idea what Karl might be thinking, or if he was even telling the truth. It was unnerving. 

And yet, Quackity found himself enthralled and strangely comforted by the mystery of the psychic. 

This mystery eased him away from the thoughts of his attempt less than an hour before. 

About his thoughts of Charlie, and his untimely death.

Karl and Quackity sat beside each other on the bathroom floor for a while, long enough for Quackity’s bleeding to stop and his bruises begin to turn the colors of an oil spill. He would stare up at the ceiling, at the colored tiles and bright fluorescent lights.

And for a fleeting moment, he felt his head lean towards Karl’s shoulder, searching for some form of comfort he knew he didn’t deserve in the slightest. He forced his head back on straight. Karl never said a thing.

Quackity’s only wish at this point of time was to be reunited with the only person in many years who had made him feel happy . 

Karl knew.

He knew more than he was meant to. 

But still, he held on to the fruitless hope that they would make it out.

One day, perhaps, in some far off timeline, everyone stuck in these cruel games lived full, accomplished lives. 

Or maybe they were destined to suffer. 

Chapter Text

The cheery music pierced Tommy’s ears as the lights were flicked back on. This had to count as some sort of sleep-deprivation torture, right?? This was illegal, right??

No shit. People were literally being murdered.

Tommy turned on his side to see his friends just as Tubbo screamed into his pillow. Ranboo was rubbing his eyes, holding his thin sheet around himself like a cloak. 

Tommy quite literally rolled out of bed, hitting the floor with a small thump! 

Ranboo waved at the two, then at Purpled and Fundy above. None of them responded. 

The only one who was really looking at Ranboo at this time was Techno, from his bunk high above the rest of the players. By his side was Phil, who had a slow awakening, unlike his friend. 

Ranboo took a worried glance at Techno, but quickly covered it up by rubbing his eyes again. He would bring the offer up later. 

Totally.

The guards walked through the doors, but no one, not even Ranboo, was really paying them any mind at this point. When they told the players to follow them to the next game, the players slowly, begrudgingly lined up to be escorted. Tommy was lined up between Tubbo and Ranboo, and Ranboo could see Techno and Phil only a few heads away. 

The walk to the next game was a bit longer than the previous one. The players were led through a new door and into a small, dark room. They gathered near the back, closer to the door, while the group of guards gathered around a gumball machine housing blue and red balls near an opening on the other side of the room.

Tommy hated this a little less than the carousel room at first. What were they going to do to them this time? Have them do a poisonous gumball roulette??

“Players, you will now be called up by your numbers in descending order. You will turn the knob of the machine and receive one colored ball. You are not permitted to trade at this point in time.”

Players were called up one by one, receiving their colors and being separated to opposite sides of the room. Tubbo and Purpled received red, while Tommy, Ranboo, and Fundy received blue. The five were separated for the time being. 

Techno stood behind Tommy, Ranboo, and Fundy, with Phil stuck on the other team. He looked, not at the gumball machine that the majority of players were watching, but the opening behind them. He didn’t like where all this was going.

He felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter house. 

It was an unusual feeling for someone in his line of work. 

A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face as the players continued to receive their colors and separate to opposite sides of the room. 

After all of the players had received their colors, four more guards came through the door behind the players. Two of the guards pushed carts while the other two followed behind. They began to hand out rectangular gift boxes to the players, the color of the box corresponding with their team color. 

“The game you will be playing,” the main guard at the front spoke as the last person had been handed a box, “is Hide and Seek.”

Tommy felt his heart sink. 

He looked over at Tubbo on the other team. Tubbo was staring at him and Ranboo with the most fear he had seen from his friend in all the days they had been here. 

“Players, you may now open your boxes.”

Inside Tommy’s box, there was a key resting on top of a blue vest. Ranboo and Fundy had received the same thing. 

Tubbo held a knife. He stared at the weapon, taking long, shaking breaths to calm himself. 

Purpled stared at the weapon in his box, not touching it quite yet. 

Techno felt himself growing paler at each shocked gasp and worried whisper he heard. 

He wasn’t meant to feel this helpless. 

The man looked over at Phil, who was staring, horrified, at the knife still resting delicately in his box.

The guard paused as the players took in their roles, then continued on with the instructions. 

“The red team will be the seekers. Each red seeker must find and eliminate one blue hider to pass. Red seekers are not permitted to attack one another. The blue team will be the hiders. Each blue hider must evade the seekers for the duration of the game, or find the exit, to pass.”

“Hey, square guy!” someone in the blue crowd yelled out. “Why do those fuckers get knives?? What are we supposed to defend ourselves with??”

“Each blue hider must evade the seekers for the duration of the game, or find the exit, to pass.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, assho–”

The guards raised their guns. The player stopped talking. 

“We will now allow ten minutes before the start of the game for players to swap their roles with other players.”

A timer began ticking down. Ten minutes. 

Ranboo and Tommy immediately ran through the crowd to Tubbo. 

“Tubbo, if–if you don’t want to, I can–”

“No. You’re not going to do that Boo.” Tubbo cut Ranboo off, his voice strong. His face was already giving away his fear. “You–You and Tommy need to hide until you hear my number called that I passed. Then, I’ll find you, and I’ll protect you guys until this stupid game is over. Alright?”

“Have you ever killed anyone before, Tubbo? How–How are you going to–” 

“Tommy, if I need to do it to save myself and the two of you idiots, I’m going to do it. I would never want to put the two of you in that kind of position.”

The two tried to protest, saying that they could find people to switch with so the three of them would be seekers. But Tubbo wasn’t having any of it, cutting them off and telling them to just put on their vests and be smart about how they approached the game. 

That they would be okay. 

Phil and Techno met in a far corner of the room. 

They traded their roles silently, their expressions exchanging words of reassurance that this was the right move. 

Techno knew how to kill. 

Phil knew how to help people live. 

This was something the two of them understood very well about each other. So, they would use their strengths to their advantage to crush the competition.

Except, Phil brought up the issue of the five he had seen be separated during the sorting. 

Phil dragged Techno over to Fundy and Purpled, who had already parted ways. They did not want to speak to each other. They did not want to team with anyone else. 

So Phil and Techno left to meet their next targets. 

Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy were approached by Phil and Techno as the timer reached five minutes.

Techno stood a little behind Phil as his friend greeted the three. He was never one for confrontation. 

“Hi, you three must be Ranboo and his friends, correct?” Tubbo glared daggers at Phil as the man spoke. Tommy looked over at Ranboo, offended that he was referred to as only an extension of another person.

“Uhm– This is Tubbo,” Ranboo gestured to 125, then to 074, “and this is Tommy.”

Phil nodded in acknowledgement. “Nice to finally meet you mate. I’m Phil, and this is Techno.” The man gestured to 099, who was looming behind his friend. A similar energy to Ranboo’s was radiating from the man. 

“What do you want? For us to sacrifice ourselves so you assholes can win more money?” Tubbo eyed the blue patches on the men’s jackets.
Phil’s eyes widened, then softened. “Oh, no, nothing of the sort. Techno and I wanted to—how would you put it?—team up?” As Techno nodded along with his friend, Tubbo raised an eyebrow. 

“And how do you suppose we’ll do that? How do we know you won’t betray us or some shit when we get in there?” Tubbo pointed to the dark opening that the players guessed would lead them to the next game. 

“I switched teams with Techno as soon as the timer started,” Phil spoke. “He’s a more… experienced fighter.”

“I can’t hide for the life of me.” Techno bluntly admitted.

“So? What does this have to do with us? I’m on the red team too. I can protect my friends better than any one of you people can—”

Tommy put a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, staring at the two men in front of them. “Let’s just hear them out,” Tommy whispered rather loudly. “Maybe they actually have a good plan?” 

Tubbo huffed and crossed his arms, waiting for Phil to continue speaking. 

Tommy was starting to sound like Ranboo. He hated it.

“Well, since Techno and I are teamed up, he would find someone to eliminate, then come back for me, and we would stick together for the rest of the game. I assume you three came up with something similar?” 

Ranboo nodded. “Did—Were you thinking of combining our teams? Like—Tubbo and Techno would… y’know… and then the three of us would wait for them to come back for us?”

Phil snapped, pointing at Ranboo. “Exactly!” 

“That… wouldn’t be too horrible… I guess…” Tubbo muttered.

The timer was running out. 

“So, we’ll do it?” Tommy looked around at the small group they had formed. He smiled nervously, “We don’t have a lot of time left, guys.” 

Tubbo sighed. “Fine.” He looked at Techno specifically, “But you better not be fucking with us.”

“We promise.” Techno was the one to speak this time. “I keep my word, and Phil keeps his.”

The buzzer sounded through the room, signaling that the prep-time had concluded. 

As the hiders were lined up and walked into the game room, Phil and Techno saluted each other with a small nod. A simple gesture, but heavy with silent prayers for the other’s safety. 

Techno was an atheist, but trusted that whatever Gods Phil believed in would protect at least his soul, no matter what happened. 

He stood beside Tubbo as the two watched the only people that they could trust, in however many years of loneliness, walk to their doom. 

An atheist stood beside a boy, and prayed for the safety of people he barely knew.

Chapter Text

The blues walked in an orderly line through two short hallways, turning left, then right, as they were led to the game room. 

Tommy walked behind Phil, in front of Ranboo. He hunched his back, making himself shorter, but straightened himself at each corner they rounded. He could almost feel the fear and unease that was radiating from the boy behind him. 

Tommy was clueless as to how Phil kept so calm. All these people, including the three allies, could be walking to their deaths for all they knew. It was unnerving. 

The short walk felt like an eternity, but the blue team was soon herded into a blue room, illuminated with stars that lined the walls and ceilings. If Tommy wasn’t fearing for his life so much, he might’ve found the scenery comforting. Maybe this is how Phil felt?

The main room that they were pushed to the middle of diverged into about five different hallways or stairs to run through. A robotic voice sounded overhead, through the black speakers cutting through the starry illusion, reminding Tommy what he was meant to be doing in here. 

“Players, you will now have three minutes to explore the arena. Once your three minutes are up, the seekers will be led in, and the game will officially begin. Good luck!”

The timer began to tick, and players ran in all sorts of different directions, trying to find some place to hide. It was life or death. 

Tommy didn’t realize he had been standing idly, until Ranboo grabbed his hand, pulling him forward as gently as he could. 

“Phil’s leading the way,” Ranboo informed quietly. Tommy nodded, and the two quickly followed Phil up the staired-doorway and down another hallway. 

When the two approached behind Phil, the man was trying his key out on a locked door. 

“It’s the wrong shape.”

“What?” Tommy took a good look at Phil’s key, then his own. Phil’s was a triangle, and Tommy’s was a circle. “Shit.” They needed a square.
“Ranboo,” Phil snapped, “What’s your shape?”

Ranboo examined his key. “Square!” He ran forward, unlocking the door. It led down another hallway, which the three advanced through. 

It was soon 30 seconds left before the red team would be let into the game. 

Tommy hastily fit his key into the lock of a door, pushing it open to an actual room, no hallway.

Phil patted him on the shoulder, leading him inside and gesturing for Ranboo to follow. 

“We’ll wait in here until Techno and Tubbo pass.”

The boys could only nod and follow the man inside the room. Ranboo shut the door behind himself, leaning against it from the inside. They had learned that the doors don’t lock again after they have been opened. 

The timer ticked, until it reached zero.

There was a pause in the process, shorter than a minute. 

Tommy held his breath as he sat with Phil and Ranboo, huddled in front of the door to keep it shut. 

He exhaled as the timer started again.

~~~

Techno walked in front of Tubbo as the two were led into the main area for the game. Each of the players on the red team held a knife. Some had it clutched in their fist, ready to dig it deep into the heart of the first blue teammate they saw. Others held it with uncertainty, not knowing if they really had the mind to end another person’s life in exchange for their own. 

The red players were herded into the same main circle as the blue team had been.

Once the last player had entered, and the door was shut behind them, the timer began to tick again. 

The players on the red team took off running in all sorts of different directions, trying to find someone to kill. It was life or death.

Techno and Tubbo agreed to start looking to their left, avoiding the staircase for the moment. There had to be people on the base level— people who couldn’t run away and hide fast enough. 

They rounded a corner. 

Down a hallway. 

They rounded another corner.

Crept down another hallway.

Beads of sweat were forming on Tubbo’s brow.

“Man, this is like a liminal-space, or somethin’. Am I right?”

Techno responded by shoving Tubbo and himself against a wall, pressing a finger to his lips in a motion meant to shush Tubbo. 

Techno slowly grabbed the handle of his knife, and, noticing this, Tubbo did the same. The younger boy’s hands shook, but he gripped his knife with as much courage as he could muster. 

They were the predators, and everyone but their allies were prey. 

Tubbo still felt like prey. 

A player rounded the corner, and Techno pounced. 

He threw a flurry of punches— to the face, to the stomach, to the throat, to the chest.

The man pinned his prey to the ground. 

“Tubbo,” he called to the boy, still frozen with wide eyes against the wall. “It’s yours.”

Techno’s voice was monotone, it always was. It was nearly emotionless, uncaring about the player’s life before this. 

He knew this game of death better than anyone but 001. 

Tubbo hesitantly walked forward, his breath hitching as the player began to plead for their life.

Tubbo took his knife, readying it in front of his prey. 

Readying it for the kill. 

Tubbo hated how the player screamed. He hated how the screaming came to an end as he plunged the knife into the player’s throat for the second— third— fourth—

Techno grabbed Tubbo’s arm, stopping the blood from splattering upwards any more. 

“Player 125. Passed,” the voice sounded overhead. Tubbo didn’t know when he started crying. 

Tubbo dropped his knife, rubbing his face, trying to wipe the blood off but only smearing more. He hiccuped a sob, nearly getting a stranger’s blood in his eye. 

“Tubbo, stop.” Techno grabbed Tubbo’s face with both of his hands. 

The blood was spreading. It was spreading everywhere, and Tubbo didn’t know how he was supposed to face his son with this much red on his hands, his face—

“You passed. You don’t have to do that again.”

Tubbo grabbed Techno’s wrists, squeezing them, wondering how he was going to face his son after taking another’s life.

“You just have to follow me now, alright? I’ll do the fighting. We’ll get you to Phil and your friends, they’ll be happy to see you.”

Tubbo was prey— he was prey and he took the role of a predator to ensure his own life. It didn’t feel good, but he would see his son again. He would make sure of it. 

Tubbo ripped his face away from Techno’s hands, turning to the dead body beside them. He grabbed and pulled the key off of the body’s neck. 

He stood up. 

“C’mon, you still gotta pass, Techno.” Tubbo held out a hand for the man. 

Techno could get up by himself, but, still, he took Tubbo’s hand. 

They were both stained with blood. 

~~~

Tommy had picked off all but two scabs on his arms and legs by the time the timer had reached 15 minutes. Phil had tried to stop him, but gave up after the fourth. 

Tommy, Phil, and Ranboo had been sitting in the small room for a while, waiting for Tubbo and Techno to find them. 

They had heard screaming. They had heard feet pounding on the floor and the ceiling— players trying to escape from their graves. No one had tried opening their door, and for that, the three were grateful. 

14 minutes.

13 minutes. 

Ranboo had started counting the seconds with his fingers. 

12 minutes.

Feet pounded right outside of their door. 

The three held their breath, and released it as the footsteps faded. 

11 minutes.

The doorknob jiggled. 

The three, as quietly as possible, shifted to hold the door shut. 

They were back to holding their breaths as the person continued trying the door. 

There was laughter on the other side. Tommy’s blood ran cold. 

The person rammed their shoulder into the door once, twice, three times.

The three couldn’t hold it shut anymore, and they tumbled to the ground as the door was forced open. 

001.

~~~

15 minutes. 

Tubbo had seen one of the timers as he and Techno roamed the halls. The blood was beginning to dry now. 

He had heard screaming. He had heard feet pounding on the floor and the ceiling— players trying to escape from their graves. Techno seemed to acknowledge none of it, but they were both well aware of the people that were dying all around them. 

The voice continued to sound every 30 seconds to a minute, players passing and being eliminated as the timer counted down. Again, Techno seemed to not pay it any mind. 

14 minutes. 

Someone rounded the corner, running straight into Techno and Tubbo. 

Tubbo recognised him as the man Purpled had a grudge against. 

He was a blue. 

Techno tackled him to the ground. 

~~~

Fist after fist was thrown at Quackity’s face and throat and stomach.

A knife flew towards his throat, but the man blocked it with his arm. The blade drove deep into his forearm, sending a cry of pain from the young man. 099 pulled the knife from Quackitiy’s arm, sending a small bout of blood flying onto both of their faces. 

Quackity took this as an opportunity to scramble back, to try and get on his two legs and run away as fast as they could carry him. 

099 grabbed one of his ankles before he had the chance to stand, reaching to grab Quackity’s neck. The man was pinned to the wall by his throat, gasping and clawing at 099’s hands, trying to get him to let go.

The bruises were turning a dull purple from the night before. He wouldn’t see the day they disappeared. 

The blade was raised, and aimed at his face.

Quackity turned as it flew.

The man’s left eye was pierced, and the blade was dragged down through the left side of his face until it reached his mouth. 

He barely registered his own screaming, his begging. 

He imagined he looked rather pathetic, but what was he supposed to do?

This was it. 

His last gamble had rendered him into a debt that neither Charlie nor Karl could even start to help him pay back. 

“Ch-Charlie—…” he croaked. 

Quackity was a gambling man. 

099 had won the jackpot. 

~~~

“Player 426. Eliminated.” Techno let go of the body’s throat. Although he had been facing away, Tubbo shut his eyes when he heard the telling THUMP of the victim falling to the floor. 

“Player 099. Passed.” 

Techno took the key from the body’s neck, the windpipes practically crushed from the strangling. 

“C’mon, kid. Let’s go find the others.” Techno began to walk off, away from the body he had just rendered lifeless. 

Tubbo followed, keeping his gaze straight ahead. 

It was over now. There was nothing he could do. 

~~~

11 minutes.

10 minutes and 30 seconds. 

It had taken 30 seconds for 001 to make a move.

He first lunged for Tommy, but the boy dove out of the way as Phil pulled Ranboo out of the room. Tommy crawled forward, getting to his feet as fast as he could to keep up with the two. 

001 followed, but didn’t run. His long strides pushed him forward powerfully.

Tommy could just feel the cockiness from this man. There was something unnerving as well, and Tommy knew that even if 001 wasn’t pursuing them with the intent of murder, he still wouldn’t trust the guy for a second.

The three ran as fast as they could through the halls. They turned a few corners, hastily unlocked and burst through a few doors, and finally managed to lose sight of 001. 

They stood by another door to catch their breath, prepared to go through it if 001 found them again. 

“Tommy…” Ranboo whispered beside the boy, dragging his word out. Tommy still gasped for air, not responding. 

“Tommy!” Ranboo whispered a little louder. 

“Give me a goddamn minute, man!” He gasped for air. “We just ran for–” he looked up at a timer, “–2 fuckin’ minutes!” 

Phil grabbed Tommy’s arm, looking in the same direction as Ranboo. 

Tommy looked down the same hall to find Purpled staring them down. 

“Shit.”

Ranboo stepped forward, raising his fists in a boxing stance, even as his hands shook and his breathing became erratic. 

Purpled stepped forward, then rapidly advanced, knife aimed to kill. 

From where Phil was holding him back, Tommy could see the blood on Purpled’s jacket. It wasn’t the boy’s. He must’ve passed already. 

Why was he doing this?

Purpled swung first, but Ranboo dodged with a speed he didn’t know he possessed. He took a swing at Purpled, but narrowly missed. Purpled tried to dig his knife into Ranboo’s arm, but he missed by a hair as well. 

Ranboo swung for Purpled’s face, and hit, sending Purpled stumbling back a step. He punched Purpled again, then grabbed him as he sent them both tumbling to the floor. 

Purpled grabbed at Ranboo’s hair, trying to dig his knife into any skin or muscle he could. He almost landed the knife in Ranboo’s face, but Ranboo bit down on Purpled’s hand as the boy swung. 

Purpled dropped his knife off to the side. Tommy ran to grab it. 

7 minutes. 

The boys heard a THUMP and a yell from behind them.

001 had found the trio again. 

Phil was on the ground, and 001 was on top of him.

Phil was on the ground, barely keeping the knife from plunging into his heart.

Phil was on the ground, but he wasn’t strong enough to stop the inevitable. 

Phil wasn’t immortal. 

Tommy charged at 001, letting out a pitiful battle cry with Purpled’s discarded knife in hand. 

001 nearly stabbed him, but Ranboo got in the way, sending 001’s knife into Ranboo’s stomach. The knife was pulled out, and 001 got away. 

6 minutes. 

Tommy yelled for 001, but directed his attention to his two teammates when Ranboo began to hold his wound. 

Tommy guided Ranboo to lean against the wall, helping him remove his sweater to collect some of the bleeding in. 

“Phil— Check on Phil,” Ranboo urged, pushing Tommy’s hands away from him. 

Tommy hesitated, but shuffled over on his knees, hovering beside Phil. 

Phil’s breathing was wheezy. The red stain on his shirt was growing indefinitely. 

Tommy took off his own jacket, balling it up to press against the man’s chest. Phil reached to place a hand on the boy’s knee before he could. 

“Tommy…” Phil whispered.

“No—No—Stop it! Just—Just hold still!” Tommy hesitated to push the jacket against the man as he saw his mouth open again. He could hear the man weakly swallow. He hoped it was just saliva. 

“Tell Techno… I’ll see him in our next life…”
“Phil—!”

“And… And my wife…”
“Phil— Stop–Stop it!”

Phil closed his eyes. His lips curled upwards, forming a depressing smile. 

“Lady Death… will reunite us… very soon…”

~~~

4 minutes. 

Techno and Tubbo heard someone yelling as they rounded another corner. It sounded familiar to Tubbo. 

The boy ran ahead of Techno, turning into another hallway to find the three they had been searching for. 

It was Tommy who was yelling. 

It was Tommy, whose face was buried in his balled-up jacket, begging for Phil to “STOP IT!”

To “WAKE UP!”

“Player 098. Eliminated.” 

Techno and Tubbo ran to their friends. 

Tubbo knelt in front of Ranboo, who was letting tears fall silently as he held his jacket against his own wound. The wound was nothing compared to the grief he felt for a life he was unable to save. 

“Ran—Ran, what happened?”

“001… He—He—” Ranboo sucked in a breath. “Shit—Tubbo—Phil had a wife—”
“You’re hurt, man. You—You’re gonna be okay—”
“Phil’s… He’s… Shit—”

Techno slid across from Tommy, taking Phil’s head in his hands. 

There were traces of a smile on the deceased man’s face. 

Techno knew he shouldn’t have felt, after having spent such a large portion of his life taking the lives of others, but he couldn’t deny the tear that landed on his friend’s cooling face. 

Techno knew that he would never again see his friend’s emerald-green eyes shining against the bright fluorescent lights, so full of love, so full of life. 

3 minutes. 

Techno took off his jacket, folding the clothing to act as a pillow and laying Phil’s head on it. 

He simply stared at his friend’s face. 

He felt so, so helpless. 

...

1 minute. 

Techno stood up.

He sat beside Tommy, who was still facing the floor with his face buried in his balled-up jacket. 

Techno wished he could do the same.

It was a foolish thought. 

30 seconds. 

Techno reached over, placing a careful hand on Tommy’s back in consolation. 

He continued to stare at his friend’s lifeless face.

He had never been this gentle before.

The buzzer sounded. 

Tommy, Techno, Tubbo, and Ranboo had survived.