Chapter Text
The trumpets that had haunted him for 3 years blared out of the overheard speakers, signalling for everyone to finally wake up. It was all the same. The suspiciously comfortable jumpsuits, the thin mattresses, the towering beds. Just as he remembered. Looking down to his chest, there was his number. 015. Just like last time. The pain medication was still in slight effect, leaving his gums numb. The tracker was slightly larger than the rest of his teeth, sticking out among the neat rows. He’ll have to ignore it. That tracker will save 455 lives soon. When the GPS leads the boats here, they’ll all be free, and no one will have to experience this again.
Removing himself from the bed, he looked around to the other players. Most were young, ambitious, their whole lives ahead of them. So many lives that won’t end up in the piggy bank he knows hangs above them, obscured by the darkness of the high ceilings. The people around him began talking, chatting and laughing, no idea of what was to come.
The elevator doors opened, and the neon pink wearing guards pushed in three desks. These were the circle guards, standing behind the stations to oversee the process about to begin. On the small stage area stood two triangle guards, holding rifles, on either side of a square guard. The hierarchy was clear to everyone. Square was in charge. The players stared at them, waiting for an explanation. So naive, so confused. 015 stayed back by the beds. No need to cause a scene yet.
“Welcome, players, to the Squid Games.” The voice was so clear despite the mask, easily reaching every person in the room. “Over the next six days, you will be playing different games to earn a considerable amount of money which you will take home with you. Before we begin with the first game, we would like to request that you all live up and sign the document on the table. Do take the time to read through it properly. Thank you for your cooperation.”
No one listened to the last portion. They all stopped listening at the mention of the money. He really couldn’t blame them as they all began lining up at the three benches. He was just like them a few years ago. Naive, but still desperate for money. That’s why they’re all here. Debts to pay, people to find, lives to rebuild. Broken people being exploited for entertainment of the rich.
When he reached the desk, he stared down at the waver in front of him. The text was small except for the three things everyone must agree to; but no one really read. He certainly didn’t the first time.
1. All injuries sustained throughout the games are my own responsibility and the host holds no responsibility.
2. No mention of the games will be made outside once they have concluded.
3. If all players unanimously vote to leave, the games will conclude and the money will be split between the remaining players.
They changed the last agreement. Good. It’ll be easier to convince people to leave if they still get some money. Though, hopefully no one will die in the first game. Picking up the pen, he signed his name on the waver. “I, Fify Smith, agree to the above conditions.”
The desks were taken out once everyone had signed. There were murmurs among the crowd before someone eventually shouted out to the square guard. “Hey! So, what’s this game we’re playing, huh?! What are we playing?!”
“You will find out soon. Now, if you would all follow me in an orderly fashion, we can begin soon.”
The crowd didn’t need to be told twice, following the masked guards out of the room and into the labyrinth that lay ahead.
The staircases and archways still looked almost plastic like, with the bright colours patchworked together to form the maze of stairways, halls, and doors. Fify kept his head low, only occasionally looking around to the other players. One man in particular caught his eye, however, with curly brown hair and eyes wide like an obedient dog. He looked around Fify’s age. Taking a quick glance at the jumpsuit, he found this man to be player 041. Perhaps he’ll listen to Fify. He smiled at the thought.
The shift from plastic to dirt visibly made people uneasy, though the darkness concealed it. The only light was from the main hall behind them, and small streams of light glinting through the doors ahead.
Panic began to set in. Maybe he couldn’t do this. Maybe this could still be a dream. Just another nightmare plaguing Fify’s sleep. He just had to wake up. Wake up and get out. He can’t play the games again. Not again. The doors ahead slowly opened and they were led out into the field. This had to be a dream. It had to be. He wasn’t ready. He dug his foot into the gravel but it only solidified this was real. He couldn’t just wake up back in the hotel. He was really there, standing behind the starting line with 455 other people, staring up at the large doll at the other end, with her pigtails and yellow dress and wide eyes. There was a laugh to his left.
“What the fuck is this?”
As if it heard them, a voice called out from somewhere. It was a woman, just like last time. The same upbeat voice repeating the same message. “Today you will be playing Red Light, Green Light. The rules are simple: when green light is called, move as far forward as you can. When red light is called, don’t move. Players who move during a red light will be eliminated!”
Conversation quickly struck up among the players while Fify gripped the pants of the jumpsuit.
“We’re playing children's games?”
“Easiest money yet!”
“Bet I can reach the end before you.”
The voices all blurred together as everyone prepared to begin. He had to get in front of them. He had to warn them. He wouldn’t let it happen again. The doll’s head twisted away from them. “Green light!” The young, sweet voice called out. People ran. Fify froze. It was now or never. He quickly turned around as the doll called “Red light!”. The gears turned. He closed his eyes tight. Waiting. No shots. His tongue landed again on the tracking device between his teeth. Before he could even think, his fingers gripped it.
“Green light!”
He was back facing the doll, moving forward. The tracker was on the ground behind him. He was going to save these people alone. His long legs helped him catch up with the rest of the players quickly. He knew it was coming. He turned and covered his mouth with his elbow.
“Red light!”
“Don’t move!” He yelled as everyone froze. “Nobody move! If you move, you die!”
There was a short silence, before some began laughing. No… No they shouldn’t be laughing…
“Green light!”
They began moving again. Fify turned and continued forward, doing his best to reach the front of the crowd.
“Red light!” It was quick. It was getting quicker. He turned and covered his mouth. The sound of gravel giving away echoed as a man slipped at the quick stop. No no no… BANG. A woman to Fify’s right fell. “Player 162, eliminated!” The voice called out, cheerful and bright.
“Don’t move!” Fify yelled. But people screamed. And some ran. They were sniped down like animals, the voice calling out each number. His eyes gripped closed. Not again. Not again. Silence. Long… long silence.
“Green light!” The doll called.