Note: mild depictions of death; some strong language; and mild homophobic views in this chapter.

———

"Players, please follow the team members to your third game!"

Anxiety can literally be felt among the partygoers, as they leave the main function room for the next game. By this point, nobody still wants to be here — but alas, only one will walk free at the end of the week. They follow the team members down numerous bright corridors, eventually arriving at another door. This door leads to a smaller room — much smaller than the last two game arenas — which is decorated to give the appearance of a school classroom.

"What is this?" George gasps, nudging Andrew to try and get some form of response. "What game is this?"

"I don't know Yog," he whispers.

"Players! Your next game will be Heads Down, Thumbs Up! I will now give you the instructions of the game. Each player must sit in their seats at the tables, with their heads bowed and their thumbs held up. The team members will choose a player each, and touch their thumb. Once every player has been touched once, players can then lift their heads. Players will take it in turns in numerical order to guess which team member touched their thumb. If a player guesses who touched their thumb correctly, they will pass the game. If a player guesses incorrectly, they will be eliminated."

"This is perfect," George whispers to his friend. "We can play like we did in school!"

"Oh my gosh, we're passing this one so easily!" Andrew exclaims excitedly. He rounds up the rest of the players, to tell them the secret. "Guys, guys! We know how to win this one!"

"How?" Michael demands desperately.

"When your head is bowed, peep under the table at the team members' shoes to work out who touches you!" George explains. "Just trust us!"

"Thanks boys!" Whitney beams, feeling optimistic for the first time in a while.

The group disbands, sitting at their respective tables.

"Players, please lower your heads and hold out your thumbs."

Each of the thirty players bows their head down against the tables, using their arms to support their faces so they don't press too hard against the solid wood. In turn, they point their thumbs upwards, exposing them so they can be touched by the respective team members.

"The team members have two minutes to touch their selected player. The two minutes begins, now."

The team members — each with a different numbered bib on — wander around the classroom. A few of them touch somebody instantly, while some give it a little thought first. They all try to choose somebody who wouldn't be very good with guessing — although it's hard to tell.

Team member #23 walks towards Michael, quickly tapping his thumb, before starting to walk away. Luckily, Michael peeps under the table and catches that the team member's shoes are black, with laces. Team member #14 heads towards George, touching upon his thumb. George glances down, noting the dark brown dress shoes. He chuckles to himself as quietly as he can, knowing he's going to pass the game.

Whitney nervously awaits her turn to be touched. Even with such a strong game plan, she feels anxious about guessing wrong. At that moment, team member #03 passes her by, touching her thumb as they go. She looks at the shoes — white Nike Air Forces — sighing in relief that she caught sight of them before the team member walked away.

Prince has come up with the same strategy without any sort of guidance. As he gets touched by team member #06, he grins to himself. He knows he too will be able to guess from the team member's dark blue Adidas sneakers.

After the two minutes is up, each team member stands in a line in numerical order, watching the players.

"The two minutes is now over. Players, please lift your heads."

Each player looks back up, with those who used George's plan checking the team member's shoes to determine which team member number they should 'guess'.

"Player 001 — please guess which team member touched you."

Player 001 looks incredibly nervous at this moment in time; swallowing to rid the dryness in his throat before guessing. "Uhh ... t-team member number ... number five?"

"Player 001 — eliminated."

Team member #5 walks towards player 001, quickly firing a single bullet at his head. He falls to the floor, the blood sliding down his lifeless face. The rest of the players erupt into panic, despite knowing what happens when a player is eliminated. It still feels just as fresh and raw as the first death they saw.

"Player 004 — please guess which team member touched you."

"Um ... " player 004 pauses, not wanting the same outcome as player 001. "T-Team member number nine."

"Player 004 — pass."

Player 004 closes her eyes, savouring the happiness of being given another day of freedom. She leaves the game room with team member #9, who escorts her back to the main function room.

"Player 011 — please guess which team member touched you."

This player looks across all the possible options, trying to read their body language. Because each team member is masked, it is impossible to go by facial expressions.

"Team member number eleven," he guesses.

"Player 011 — pass."

Player 011 jumps up, pounding his fist in the air in triumph. "Fuck yeah!" He follows team member #11 out of the room, still shouting his victory.

This continues, in numerical order, until it's Prince's turn to guess.

"Player 017 — please guess which team member touched you."

Prince does not hesitate in answering. "Team member number six."

"Player 017 — pass."

"That's what I thought, motherfucker," he remarks, before leaving the game room with team member #6.

"Player 024 — please guess which team member touched you."

Andrew looks around at the team members, smirking to himself as subtly as he can. "Team member number thirteen."

"Player 024 — pass."

From where he's sitting, George celebrates quietly at the knowledge his friend is safe. But now comes his turn.

"Player 025 — please guess which team member touched you."

"Team member number fourteen."

"Player 025 — pass."

George lets out a breath he doesn't realise he's been holding in, before rising from his seat, his hands clasping together in a classic praying position. He follows team member #14 out the room. More players take their guesses, with some being eliminated, and others passing. Eventually it comes to Whitney's turn.

"Player 063 — please guess which team member touched you."

Whitney looks down at the team members' shoes. It's then, that she comes to a deadly realisation — there are two team members who are wearing the same shoes ... and they're both wearing white Nike Air Forces. Her nerves begin to build up; she genuinely does not know which of them it could be out of the two.

"Shit," she curses to herself. She closes her eyes, trying to think back to remember even a small detail about the team member who touched her. But to no avail, as she can remember nothing. She is going to have to guess.

Michael picks up on her worry, glancing down at the team members' shoes too. He quickly evaluates that she must be trying to choose between team member #3 and #26, as they both have the same shoes on.

"Fuck," he whispers. His genuine concern becomes a painful ache in his chest, at the idea that she could be about to die.

After a few moments, Whitney finally has the courage to guess her number. "T-Team member number three."

A silence follows. She keeps her eyes closed, covering her face with her hands so she cannot see her fate.

"Player 063 — pass."

"Yes!" she cries, in genuine shock and surprise that she guessed correctly. She opens her eyes, turning to see Michael with a huge smile upon his face. She beams back at him, before following team member #3 back to the main function room.

"Player 069 — please guess which team member touched you."

Madonna takes a breath, remembering that her team member's shoes were black, with Velcro straps on them. That must be team member #17.

"Seventeen," she answers shortly.

"Player 069 — pass."

She exits the room, giving a quick glance to Lisa, who is sitting waiting for her turn to come up.

"Player 077 — please guess which team member touched you."

Michael stands up, quickly checking the shoes once again. He spots that team member #23 is wearing the exact shoes he saw when he was touched.

"Team member twenty-three," he responds.

"Player 077 — pass."

He nods, before following team member #23 back to the main function room. When he arrives, he finds all of the group waiting for him — of course, aside from those who haven't taken their guesses yet.

"Michael, you made it!" Whitney cries, rushing up to him to hug him tight. "I'm so glad you're alright."

"Of course I am," he laughs, soaking up the hug as much as he can. He really finds Whitney to be a special person. "I'm so glad you guessed after the shoe issue."

"They had the same shoes on!" she exclaims, shaking her head. "But it doesn't matter. We're both alive. And so is the rest of our team — so far."

"I hope Elton, Freddie and Lisa are okay," George comments to Andrew — although it's evident that his main concern is Elton. "They should walk through the door any moment now, surely?"

"Relax mate. They all will have used the same game plan as us. They'll be fine."

"But what if something similar happens to them? Two team members have the same shoes or something?" George raises a valid point. "Whitney is only here by pure luck."

"Thanks for the reminder, George," Whitney snickers, playfully messing with the floof of hair at the front of his face. "Let's hope the others are okay."

Moments later, the door opens, revealing another team member. With them, follows Elton.

"Elton!" George gasps, running to him to give him a hug. "Thank god!" Not caring if anybody else sees, they share a kiss — perhaps of relief; of happiness; and of comfort and adoration.

"You two? Really?" Prince scoffs, almost seeming shocked that the two are a pair. "Man, spare me the view."

"Oh, I get it — you're a homophobe too?" Whitney sneers. "You just get better and better, don't you?"

"Fuck off, Nippy," Prince retorts. "You couldn't attract anyone in here if you tried."

"Oh, so you've asked everybody in this room, huh?" she hisses, getting up in his face. "You've asked everyone their opinions on myself, and of George and Elton?"

Among the commotion, Freddie returns from the game, having passed. George, Andrew and Elton congratulate him quietly — still immersed in the fight that is progressing before them.

"I'm just going by my own thoughts," he explains. "Because anybody who isn't disturbed by this shit isn't normal."

Very much out of her character, she suddenly swipes Prince across the face in anger. He stumbles back a little, his hand covering the area he's been struck in.

"You'll regret that," he growls. "Fucking slut!"

"Don't talk to me! Don't come near me again, otherwise I'll make sure you're dead by the next game!" she threatens. "I don't take homophobic shit, or sexist shit!"

Admittedly, Michael is a little stunned by her outburst — but not so much in a bad way. He smiles at George and Elton, as if to say, "I support you guys", before walking towards Prince himself.

"Stay away from her, Pretty Boy. She's a bitch," Prince warns Michael. "Us guys have to stick together and keep away from scum like her."

"Back off man," Michael instructs. "Don't talk to George and Elton like that. And don't talk to Whitney like that. You say she couldn't attract anybody in here if she tried, huh?"

"Pfft, I know she couldn't!" Prince spits, folding his arms, before shooting a glare at Whitney. "She's as lousy as they come."

"Michael, you don't have to defend me from that jerk," Whitney calls out. "Just come away from him. He's just stuck in his own sick world. Fuck him."

Michael ignores Whitney's wish, staying in Prince's face. "You say she couldn't attract anybody in here if she tried, but the thing is, that's where you're wrong. You're just jealous because nobody wants to fuck with you, because nobody likes you. Whitney is one of the most kind and kick-ass people I've ever met in my life."

His next decision comes impulsively, and clearly with not much thought; as he backs off from Prince and strides over to Whitney. He takes her in his arms, before bringing her into a fiery, passion-fuelled kiss. It's also at that exact moment, that Lisa walks back through the door, having passed the game.

Michael pulls away from Whitney, before turning around to Prince. "You say she can't attract anybody, Prince — but she's attracted the one you call 'Pretty Boy'."

~~

Omg, Michael made a move on Whitney! Did you expect that? What would Harper think?