𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐓 𝐈𝐒𝐀𝐀𝐂𝐒
∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"This isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real, this isn't real—"

"Oh, bloody hell, it is real. Shut your mouth." Newt kicks against the mattress above him, leading to a surprised whimper. "How the hell did you even survive that first game?" He murmurs.

A second of silence before small cries leave the girl's mouth. Newt sighs and rolls over, bored. They've been back for about half an hour and those pink-dressed guards haven't said a word. Some people are freaking out, others are staring at nothing, and some—like the girl above him—are making him anxious as well.

Exhaling once again, Newt stands up, peeking at the one above him. "Sorry. That was rude. I'm not really... myself these days."

"It's okay. Me neither," the girl peeps. Her hair is a wild mess of curls, skin a darker tint, and big, innocent eyes. "Why are you here? How much debt do you have?"

"400,000," he says. "My dad died and my mom was long gone before that. I got medical bills on me, funeral costs, rent to pay, daily needs, student loans for my sister... What about you?"

The girl nods. "I have 75,000," she whispers.

"Why?"

"I didn't pay my therapist and now I believe he's after me." Her eyes wide at the image. "Everyone's after me."

"Why...?"

"Everyone," she whispers again, her gaze drifting off before she blinks and looks back at Newt. "I also have no job and unpaid bills." 

He squints his eyes. There's clearly something mentally wrong with this girl.

"What's your name?" She wonders. "Or do I call you Number Five?"

"For now, I think that's best," he agrees. Sharing his name in a place like this might not be smart.

"Alright. See you, Number Five." She lies back down on her bed, her back turned to him.

"Bye, Two Hundred Seventeen," he mutters.

Newt sits back down on his bunk, running a hand through his hair. His mind swirls with everything that just happened—the gunshots, the screams. Even now, he can still hear the haunting echo of the voice: Red light, Green Light. It sends a shiver down his spine.

"This place is a bloody nightmare," he mutters under his breath.

"You're telling me," the girl above him—Two Hundred Seventeen—responds softly. "I saw someone trip and... and they just shot him."

Newt nods, though she can't see him. A long silence stretches between them, filled only with the muffled sobs of other players.

Eventually, Newt speaks again. "They said we could vote. Y'know, to leave."

"You think they'd actually let us go?" the girl asks.

"They said they would," Newt replies. "But at this point, I don't trust a word they say."

More silence. Then the girl shifts slightly on her bed, finally rolling over to peer down at him. "Do you think we should? Vote, I mean."

Newt leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His jaw tightens. "You saw the same thing I did. This isn't just some game. It's slaughter."

"But what about the money?" she whispers. "75,000 doesn't just disappear if I leave."

"Neither does 400,000," he retorts sharply, then sighs when he sees her flinch. He softens his tone. "Look, I know why you're hesitating. But what good is paying off debt if you're not alive to enjoy it?"

Her lips press into a thin line, and she looks away. "I just thought... maybe this was my chance. To fix things."

"This'll fix you straight into a grave."

She doesn't reply immediately. Around them, other players are starting to whisper the same idea—talking in hushed tones about the vote.

Finally, Two Hundred Seventeen nods. "Alright. If... if you vote to leave, I'll vote with you."

Newt meets her gaze. "Deal."

Just then, the harsh sound of a loudspeaker cuts through the room, making both of them jump.

"We have received requests to vote whether the game should continue or not. Please calmly gather at near the center of the room to vote."

The girl swallows hard. "This is it."

"Yeah," Newt mutters, standing up. "Let's hope the others aren't all bloody desperate to die."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Please press the blue button if you vote to continue the games. Please press the red button if you vote to stop the games and divide the accumulated price over every one of you. Each eliminated player is worth 15,000."

The girl looks at Newt, gasping. "I can probably already pay all my debts!"

"Me, too, hopefully," he murmurs before raising his voice. "What's the accumulated price?"

"The accumulated price is 495,000 dollars, as 33 people were eliminated in the first game. There are 217 people left in the game."

"That's not even half of what I owe," someone close to the whispers.

"Not even a quarter for me," another hisses.

The girl's smile fades. "I thought maybe everyone would be around our range of debt."

Newt shrugs. "We'll find out."

"Player 001 takes the first vote. Player 250 takes the last," one of the guards calls. "Please remain calm as you vote. You may start."

Number 001 is the girl that caught Newt's attention almost immediately. She ended up in a heated fight with another one named Siren. Her dark hair moves with her as she presses the 'O' button. The blue one. Then she walks over to her designated place—the spot for everyone who votes for O. Next to it is the X spot.

Secondly, number 002 shows up. A boy with short brown hair and a lean build. He hesitates before pressing 'O'.

"Shit," the girl whispers. "That's two already! We're never going to win—"

"It's just two," Newt correct. "We have 215 chances left."

"Right..." her shoulder slump.

It feels like hours by the time number 060 walks up to the buttons. 25 people have voted to quit playing, 28 people have voted to continue. 060 votes to quit. 061 votes to continue.

062 is a tall boy, his hair just a little too long. He walks awkwardly, cheeks burning when he reaches the voting table. His hand moves towards—

"Lyndon?" A gasped mixed with a screeching cry emerges from the crowd. 062 spins around, eyes wide, as if he got caught doing something wrong. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

A girl runs over to him, sobbing as she does so, and attacks him with a hug. "What the hell!" She says again. "Why are you here?"

He tells her something inaudible. It only makes her cry louder, attracting everyone's attention, even from the guards.

"Please proceed voting and do not interrupt," one orders.

"Please!" The girl begins begging. "Please let us go—"

"Please proceed voting and do not interrupt."

The boy murmurs something else to the girl and walks back to the table, pressing 'X' without hesitation. Newt's eyes squint. Interesting. Are they related? They do look quite similar.

Half an hour later, it's the last person's turn to vote.

It doesn't matter what they choose, though. 117 people have voted to continue playing, leaving only 100 who want to leave.

"Too bad," says Newt's first... friend, sort of. Tears stand in her eyes. "But we can survive another game, right? It's just childhood games. I'm alright at games."

"We don't know for sure if all of them are childhood games," Newt sighs out.

"It's fine as long as it doesn't contain running. I'm really bad at that. What about you?"

He stares at his leg—which he needs to thousands of dollars to get surgery for—and nods. "Me, too. Other than that, we can do it."

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

"Welcome, players," the female voice greets the next day. "Welcome to the second game."

Newt and 217 share a glance.

"You will be taking part in the Beep Test."

Both their faces fall.