Note: this chapter contains some strong language.

———

Once all partygoers have returned to the main function room, Michael rushes up to Whitney to compare thoughts on what has just occurred.

"Whitney," he breathes, still evidently in shock. "What the fuck was that?"

She shakes her head, her brows knitted together and her lips parted to breathe easier. "I don't even know, Michael. It's like some sick joke. We really have to play 6 more of those games? A-And that's if we even make it to the end — only one person is gonna win this thing."

Michael's eyes widen at this realisation. "Oh, shit. Of course! Only one of us is going to survive." An abrupt sinking feeling takes over his entire body; the idea of being killed and not getting out of here is enough to sicken even the most courageous of people. He takes Whitney's hands in his own. "We gotta form a team. Get as far as we can into the games. It's the only strategy I got right now."

Facing him, she nods. "I agree. It's the only option we have. And we never know what games are going to come up next. We need to stick together."

"Nice game." Both of them have their attention turned to Prince, who has just appeared seemingly from nowhere. "Can't believe we could have died out there."

"You did so well, man," Michael praises. "You were the first over the finish line. How did you do that?"

"Well, I mean ... I came here to win this thing I guess." He chuckles, his typical smirk evident on his full lips. "If only one of us can, I'd like it to be me."

"I think we all want the same thing." Whitney folds her arms, appearing somewhat annoyed with Prince's attitude despite having only just met him. "But obviously that can't happen."

"No, Nippy," Prince taunts, tapping her on the nose with his index finger. "You're just a young girl with no experience in the real world anyways. I'm amazed you made it through that first game."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demands, her hands falling aggressively to her hips.

Prince raises his hands in surrender. "Nothing, Nippy. I'm just curious to see how you get on in the next game." With that, he saunters off — most likely to irritate another partygoer.

"He's such an arrogant jerk," she huffs, rolling her eyes. She glances at Michael. "Are you friends with him?"

Michael shrugs, a confused expression giving away that he didn't expect Prince to trash talk the way he did. "I wouldn't say that. He just keeps coming to talk to me. I don't really know him."

"Right."

"Hey guys! What the bloody hell was that?" Players 024 and 025 — Andrew and George respectively — arrive to congratulate the pair. "Glad we made it through that!" George gushes. He then extends a friendly hand. "I'm Georgios. The people I like call me George. This is my best mate Andrew."

Michael shakes George's hand. "A pleasure to meet you both. I'm Michael; this is Whitney. I love your accent."

"Ah, all the way from sunny southern England," George jibes. "Although judging from this place, we should have just shut up and put up with the rain."

"We've been friends since school," Andrew explains. "Both wanted to form a band together, but both broke. So here we are — unfortunately."

"I guess we're all in the same situation," Michael calculates. "It really sucks that we'll never see each other again this time next week. And it's kinda scary too."

"Oh don't remind us," George says. His hand smacks his forehead, before slowly falling down his face at a loss. "This whole thing is a shit show. So inhumane. What the fuck are they doing? Playing with our lives like this, like it's some sick joke."

"It's only going to get worse with the next few games," Andrew points out. "And none of us have a clue what it'll end up being."

"We should form a team," Michael suggests. "Then we can be ready for whatever should happen. We'll survive longer that way, I think."

"Sounds good to us," George smiles — a smile that isn't happy as such; but rather a smile to indicate he's on board with this crazy scheme in order to survive just a few days longer. If he were to think about the harsh reality that only one will make it out alive, it would drive him to insanity. "But maybe our team should be bigger. There's sixty people in this room and only four of us have teamed together. We could do with perhaps a few more."

"Good call," Whitney agrees. "What about those two girls over there?" She points to two women in the corner of the room, who have clearly become close just in a matter of hours. "Maybe they can join us. It would be useful to have men and women just to cover all bases."

"Oh god," Michael curses to himself. He's just realised he recognises one of them. "One of those is my ex girlfriend. Why the fuck is she here?"

"Must be broke like the rest of us," Andrew laughs. "It doesn't hurt to have them on side though."

Whitney paces over to them; the others watch as she introduces herself pleasantly and invites them to join the group. They glance over; Michael's ex recognises him immediately, but obliges to join the group regardless. The three women walk back over to the boys — thus creating a team of six.

"Boys, this is Madonna—" She gestures to Player 069. "—And this is Lisa." She points to Player 094.

"Nice to meet you guys," Lisa smiles, before averting her eyes to Michael. "And nice to see you again, Mike."

Michael's eyes move down to the floor awkwardly. "Yeah; you too Lisa-Marie." He clears his throat, as if trying to buy time to create a conversation starter. "So why are you here anyway?"

"Needed the cash," she responds shortly, with no further explanation. "You?"

"Bills to pay."

"Sure." She pulls Madonna away from the group momentarily, so they can engage in their own private conversation. "That's him. That's my ex. I thought I'd seen him in here earlier."

"Why the fuck have you agreed to be part of his team then, girl?" Madonna scoffs, her face contorting as if to say, 'You've ruined everything!'.

"Because ... I still love him." Lisa's eyes glaze over in sadness; her expression mallows and her movements soften. "He broke up with me and I never wanted to end things. I'm still not over it. I'd do anything to be close to him — even take part in these death games with him."

"Ah shit, girl." Madonna almost seems to pity her newfound friend. "Well, I guess after this you'll never see him again regardless of if you survive or not. Make the most of it, I guess." She offers a supportive smile.

"Oh, I will." Lisa chuckles, trying to make light of how she feels. The pair head back over to the group to attempt to blend in better.

Meanwhile, Andrew playfully slaps George on the arm, as he catches him checking a fellow partygoer out. "Dude. Don't get attached to anybody. You're not gonna see them again after this week."

"Andrew, a man's allowed to look isn't he?" George gives a mischievous smirk, biting his lip at the sight of the attractive male on the other side of the room — Player 080. "Besides, I could do with some fun if I'm gonna die in here."

Andrew flashes a cheeky smile at his friend. "You never change do ya? Even when you're literally faced with death, you're still giving the googly eyes to every man you can. You realise he's probably straight?"

"I might go talk to him," George decides, confidently darting off, away from the group he's joined.

"No, mate—" Andrew can't even stop him, because it's too late. "Ah, man."

George finally reaches Player 080. "Hey." That's all he says to earn the partygoer's attention, but he turns around to see him. "I'm Georgios. But you can call me George for ease. Nice to meet you."

"Hey George. Elton." Elton smiles at this new face, subtly checking out every inch of him. "Crazy place this is, right?"

"You're not kidding mate. Can't believe this." George shrugs, his mind suddenly blanking at the worst possible time. "Um, yeah. Makes you wonder what the next game will be, doesn't it?"

"If we're being logical, it'll be a kids' game most likely," Elton evaluates, pursing his lips together in thought. "What's the Time Mr Wolf is definitely a kids' game. The rest will probably follow suit."

"Yeah, good thinking," George compliments — more to try and appease this attractive man, than for any other purpose. "Hey, actually, we could use somebody like you on our team. There's six of us already. A seventh player could be useful."

"You've got a whole team?" Elton questions. "Why's that?"

"So we can be ready for anything that comes at us," George explains. "If we have players who are good at everything, we can surely get further in this thing."

"I mean, you have a point. Let's do it." Elton smiles, allowing George to lead him back to the rest of the team.

"We have another player for the team," George announces. "Guys, this is the lovely Elton. He's a smart guy. Well, he must be — he joined us." He makes eye contact with Elton, winking at him playfully; biting his lip. Elton chuckles at this.

"Awesome!" Michael chirps. "If we get our team to eight or nine, then that'll be nearly twenty per-cent of the entire group of players that are still in this room." His eyes scan the team; each person offers a different skill set to the table, which is perfect for any given game that could pop up. "Let's see how far our team can get us in the next few games."

"Well with this one here," George comments, using his head to gesture to Elton, "I'd be surprised if we don't all make it to the final game." His high level of flirtation is amusing to Elton — who is secretly enjoying this male attention. He wouldn't dare admit that after such a short time, however.

"So what do we think the next game could be?" Whitney interrogates everyone. "If we can figure out what some of the games are, it'll be easier for all of us to come up with a strategy to win this thing."

"Hopscotch?" Madonna suggests.

"Jump rope?" Andrew chimes in.

"Okay, okay — anything else?" Michael follows up.

"Tag?" Elton says.

"Noughts and crosses perhaps," Lisa comments.

"Well, that's a few ideas. But they're all games that don't really have strategies to them other than, 'don't lose'." George sighs, his hair bouncing as his head falls into his hands in despair. "We're all dead, aren't we?"

"Hey, where's the optimism?" Elton frowns, placing a supportive hand on George's back. "Come on, man — you gotta have faith."

The physical contact catches George off-guard, and almost instantly improves his mood. "I know. I'm trying to. I think I just need to believe in us a little more." He gives Elton an appreciative smile. "Good job you're here to lift us all up."

"I guess until we know the games for sure, we can't plan anything ahead of time," Michael speaks, his hand rubbing his chin in contemplation. "But whatever the game, we'll have to discuss a strategy just before it starts. None of us can go this early on — it would feel like a kick in the teeth."

"We'll be ready for anything that comes our way," Madonna states. "Look at our team. We're unstoppable."

"Let's hope you're right," Whitney adds, a motivated smile settling across her face. "We can do this, team." She extends her arm out, inviting everyone else to do the same. "Team?"

One by one, they put their hands atop each other's, before shouting simultaneously, "Team!" Their arms raise into the air, boosting the morale of them all.

It almost seems frightening, just how positive each player is, despite knowing all but one of them will soon die.

~~

Chapter five! How are we liking this so far? And who's your favourite character?