? ﾝﾓﾹ? ﾝﾓﾼ? ﾝﾓﾭ? 3:

? ﾝﾓﾔ? ? ﾝﾓﾗ? ? ﾝﾓﾞ? ﾝﾓﾘ? ﾝﾓﾖ ? ﾝﾓﾔ? ﾝﾓﾘ?

Shaking.

Rocking back and forth and shaking.

Player 191 has been rocking back and forth and shaking for two hours now. Two hours since the massacre. So this is what this 'game' is, huh? Raising pigs for the slaughter. 191 clatters his teeth, his eyes bloodshot. From the outside in, he probably looks like a drug addict. Maybe that's true. 191 knows that he's never so much as come within ten feet of any drugs, but he imagines this is what it feels like being high.

The initial reactions to the mess was absolute hysteria. Everyone was running around and blaming other people, some were screaming, some were crying. 191 chose to sit here and curl himself up in a ball. For two whole hours. After an hour of mass panic, the crowd dialed down and had the same reaction as 191. Silence and shock.

191 has seen enough people in his life to be able to read them. He ran a business, after all. What kind of businessman would he be if he can't read people? His eyes dart around, taking in the pitiful sights of grief. Some are still going through the first stage. Some are on the last stage. It's scattered around. 191 finds it amazing how many varied reactions there are. He even notices someone sitting by the door in the corner of the room, scratching on it with a deranged look in his eyes. 191 shakes his head. That's what a drug addict looks like. As long as he doesn't devolve to that, he should be okay.

There's a knock on the side of the metal posting surrounding his bed. He glances up, seeing a tall man waiting there for him. "Don't mind me, I'm going around asking everyone for their opinions. We're going to try and prepare for the voting," the man, number '092', says. 191 slowly nods. "Can I take a minute and ask you if you'd vote to stay or go?" 191 agrees, leaning back and letting his legs relax.

"I'd stay," he whispers.

92's eyes widen, a look of disgust filling his expression. "Don't you have family?"

"You're about the closest thing to family I have," he replies nonchalantly.

"We just met."

"Exactly."

92 holds his ground, wrapping his arms around the cool metal connecting 191's bed to the one above him. Bunk beds have always annoyed him. Such a small thing to hate, but while growing up he had one with his brother. He still vividly remembers hearing the creaks of his brother jumping on his bed at night on purpose, trying to get a rise out of the older man.

"Why don't you want to go then?" 92 cautiously asks. 191 can practically hear the man tip-toeing around 191's mind, almost as if studying it. 191 isn't having any of it.

"Does it look like I want to talk right now?" 92 remains quiet. "We just witnessed hundreds being massacred and we're here like sitting ducks waiting for the Playstation buttons to come back and tell us that we're next! My apologies if I'm not in the mood to talk philosophy 92, so kindly fuck off."

92 leans back on the balls of his feet, tapping his fingers against the rod he's holding. "So you like gaming then?"

"Is that seriously what you took out of that?"

The man chuckles, stepping forward to be in front of 191. He kneels as if tauntingly, placing a hand on the corner of the mattress. 92 is well-built, not as well-built as 191, but up there. It's mostly the shoulders that give him a look of superiority. A look of pride, almost. 191 senses the threat coming before it even does.

"Unlike you, I have a family. Living, breathing people. Not screens. Not Playstation buttons. A wife and two little boys." 92 pauses to shake his head, giving the man a look of disapproval. "Every vote counts, so I'll formally request that you vote to leave. So far majority is leaning that way anyway, your vote won't matter against the ones I have rallied behind me."

191 observes him, clicking his tongue in annoyance before leaning closer. Now 92 can see the muscular build 191 was hiding. It's safe to say a glint of fear appears in his dark eyes for a split moment. Only a moment, but it's enough. "Let me guess... unemployed man who's on the brink of losing his family. Correct me if I'm wrong about any of that." Silence. "You're threatening me to make it seem like you're more than you are."

92 dryly chuckles, "As right as you may be... remember you're in this shithole with me, 191. I consider this threat more of a fight. Self-defense, if you will. For my boys."

"I can respect that, but I also hope you can respect my decision to stay."

The man curtly nods, humming ever so slightly. "Businessman?" he inquires, but it sounds more like a statement.

191 nods back, "Businessman." The two stare at each other for several moments, watching and waiting for nothing in particular. It's almost as if 92 is waiting for 191 to reveal some grand information that'll save them all. That information never comes. Instead, 92 sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

"Kim Seokjin. Jin for short," he offers, holding out his hand.

"You're using your name?" 191 asks, shaking the man's outstretched hand.

"Not by choice. I do hope you'll change your mind. Now you know the name of the one begging you," he softly replies. Strange... he sounds rather sympathetic.

"I don't have many other options," 191 shakily whispers, dropping Seokjin's hand. 191 can see the man light up in understanding, him backing away by a mere foot.

"Would it be selfish to ask your name?" Seokjin questions, raising a brow. Maybe an actor. He uses his words and facial expressions a lot. Or maybe a public speaker, politician of sorts. If he's a politician, 191 would have no remorse keeping him here as terrible as that sounds. He's no monster: he's always wanted kids, after all, but politicians are the devil of this nation. Everyone knows that.

"A little," 191 honestly remarks. There's a moment of hesitation. "Politician?"

"I know I threatened you, but quite frankly I'm a little offended," Seokjin scoffs, "I used to work in a travel agency, but I went to school for acting. Never got a chance to be that though." This man is pretty open, huh? Open and dramatic. 191 needs to get rid of him.

"You're surprisingly open and unaffected by the fact that we saw hundreds getting mowed down." 191 points to the screen. 222 players remaining. Right when they returned, the Playstation buttons explained how the currency works and how the total prize money is redeemed. Now they're waiting for them to come back again so they can commence the voting everyone screamed for. It's safe to say they were vocal about how much they wanted out of here. But after they saw the money? There were some mixed feelings. For 191 it's a no-brainer. He may hate killing and violence, but that money can save his life. He needs it.

"I've seen people die before," Seokjin replies, "these people are no different. Shocking, sure, but they're all in here for some shitty reason anyway."

"So these pink soldiers or whoever is running this place... you think they're doing the world a favor?"

92 coyly smiles as if trapping 191. "I thought you didn't want to talk philosophy."

"I'll admit you've piqued my interest," 191 honestly remarks, subconsciously scooting a bit closer.

Seokjin heaves a sigh, shaking his head. "I'm not saying it's right or wrong. Killing is obviously terrible, but we technically signed up for it whether we knew there was killing involved or not... there's still plenty of people who would still compete in this sick game." He pauses to stare 191 dead in the eye. "Like you."

He softly chuckles, "Am I the monster?"

"Are you?" he challenges, "because the way I see it there's two people here. Us and them." He taps his fingers against the metal one last time. "But I'm still trying to figure out which one's which."

Before 191 can respond, there's a buzz, the doors sliding open with an eerie creak. Both 191 and 92 turn their heads to see it. The Playstation buttons are back, marching in-step until they reach their natural position at the center of the stairs. "Now since you've had a chance to reflect, before you are two buttons. A green circle, and a red x. The green circle indicates that you wish to continue to game while the x is the opposite. Please line up in number order and prepare to vote in accordance to clause 3 of the waiver."

191 stands, following Seokjin to the line of players forming on one side of the room, leaving plenty of space for when they're finished voting. "This is where we part," 191 says, stopping before he gets confused by the number of players in front of him. "I would say it was nice meeting you, but in business you're only supposed to lie to your customers."

"Nice to know I'd be buying from a good source," Seokjin replies, cautiously patting him on the shoulder. To even his own surprise, 191 allows it. "I know it doesn't mean much, but I hope to see you around. I hope you survive, if these games continue. And... I hope you make the right decision." He doesn't say it in a way to push 191 to the 'go home' side. Rather, he phrases it as if he doesn't know what the right decision is either.

191 nods and watches him saunter away, the man going up to player 100 and counting down. 191 on the other hand slips to the back, sighing when he realizes that this will take forever. There's around 90 players ahead of him. Wonderful. He's doing wonderfully, isn't he? 191 sighs, listening as the pink men keep repeating the rules. 'If there's a tie they'll reconvene and vote a second time'. 'Don't let other people influence your personal choice'. Blah blah blah. 191 already knows the decision he has to make.

Two minutes later the voting is happening, the first vote being an x. 191 almost grunts at the sight of one number being added to the wrong side. More people pass and the numbers are evened out. 191 mostly pays attention to the ones choosing to leave. 013 is one of the first to make that decision, pressing on the x rather confidently. 191 rolls his eyes when the black-haired man makes his way to the other side of the room.

The time ticks by and by, 191 still only noting those who vote against him. The numbers keep going, racking up. The good news is it's pretty much even. Bad news is that they're only in the 90s. 92, Seokjin, is next. The man is quick to press x and move on. To 191's surprise, the next man, 093, presses x as well. Shit. Some points are being racked up for the opposing side. 191 averts his eyes and decides to think positively. He needs to win this game and get that money. No going home. Not now. They've come too far, those lives lost can't be for nothing.

The minutes tick by, 191 becoming more and more annoyed by the second. When it's his turn, he confidently walks up to the podium, glancing down at the two buttons. Green and red. He goes to press green, then hesitates. He came up here so ready to press this button. Why can't he do it now?

191 can feel the burn of gazes on the back of his skull. However, there's only one that stands out. 92. Kim Seokjin. 191 can hears his words repeating, echoing down his body until he shivers. Why isn't this easy? His fingers trace over the green button, some grunts of disapproval sounding off behind him. Despite all the words and talk, 191 sticks with his philosophy. He presses the green button.

He doesn't bother glancing at the score. Rather he sulks back to the other side of the room, standing in his proper place next to 189. 190 is one of the fallen, huh? 191 doesn't bother dwelling on it. When he looks around, all he sees are numbers. Numbers and a blank person wearing it. He shakes his head, not bothering to watch anymore. All that matters is he finds a way out of his mess. And if the numbers have to die? He doesn't mean to sound heartless, but they chose this. If they have to go, so be it.

112 to 110. Jimin has never been so devastated in his life.

He sinks down on his bed, watching the hysterical mothers and fathers beg to be let go, but they can't. Majority agreed to stay. To fucking stay. Jimin glares at the backs of Tae and Luna's heads, his fingers opening and closing around the fabric of the sheets on his bed. They decided to reconvene here only two minutes after the vote was final. They're staying in this hellhole whether they like it or not. Some are begging for re-votes, but that's never going to happen.

Tae sighs, finally turning to meet Jimin's burning eyes. "What?" Tae asks dismissively.

"You know I have a family but you still voted to stay. Your vote could've tied it," Jimin huffs. He can understand Luna. She's a complete stranger who's hanging out with them for some reason, but Tae? The man who's supposed to his best friend? Tae knew very well that Jimin has a wife and daughter. He can't risk dying here. He can't. As Raven said, she'd rather him come home safe with no money than return with bruises and a lot of it. Jimin's already hurt her enough. She deserves a break.

"Jimin, unlike you, I have nothing," Tae remarks, staying surprisingly calm, "I have nothing other than you. I'm broke, okay? Completely broke."

"I could help," Jimin urges. Tae completely blows him off.

"Most days I have to choose between eating and paying off my debt," Tae sadly whispers, slumping down in defeat from the realization, "if I go back, nothing changes. In here at least I have a fighting chance." Luna mumbles an agreement, Jimin sighing and letting his shoulders slump like Taes'.

Jimin scoots closer to Tae, placing a gentle hand on his elbow. The man doesn't budge. "Why didn't you tell me? I would've helped you."

"I don't tell you everything. I'm sorry for that, but what I'm not sorry for is giving myself a new chance at life." Tae motions to Jimin. "And that's another reason why. I didn't want you spending your little money on me. The last thing I need is an even guiltier conscious knowing that my best friend would get more shit from his wife because I needed help."

"She would've helped you too," Jimin urges, but Tae brushes him off. Jimin sighs and back hugs his friend, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry I was so harsh I just..."

"Did you punch me?" Tae asks. Jimin, although confused, shakes his head. "Then we're still friends. Come on, don't beat yourself up over it. I wish I could understand. I don't, I doubt I ever will, but for whatever it's worth I am sorry. I can't imagine how it feels to miss your girls so much that you choose them over... that." He points to the enormous sum of cash above them in the fucked up piggy bank, Jimin opening his eyes briefly to look at it.

"Money is paper. You can spend it, burn it, save it... do whatever you want with it. Love though? It's something you should keep if you find it, and I know damn well I'm not risking losing my girls because I was greedy. God, I already feel like an idiot." Jimin dryly chuckles, tracing a finger down his cheekbone. "She left me for getting slapped, imagine her reaction to... this."

Tae places a hand over Jimin's, the two silently agreeing that this shit is fucked up beyond belief. There's no better words for it, really. Luna turns to face them, a soft, almost painful smile spreading across her lips. "Do you think the next games will get harder as they go?" she inquires, placing a hand around the rod to the metal bedframe.

"I think that's a safe bet, eliminate as many people as possible. Make the prize pool larger," Tae replies, shrugging ever so slightly.

"What about winners? Can there be more than one?" she asks.

"I imagine so, there's a lot of players here. Now since we know the stakes, we'll start fighting harder. We chose this, after all. We chose to stay," Tae sighs out, running a hand through his hair, a sense of guilt radiating off his body. Jimin doesn't bother pressing to find out what's on his mind. He said it himself: he doesn't tell Jimin everything. What's to say he'll even talk about what he's thinking?

"Well I'm not leaving here without my best friend," Jimin remarks, "so they better hope that more than one victor is allowed, otherwise I'm not leaving at all." Tae and Luna sadly smile at his words, going back to staring at each other as if sharing a secret. A secret Jimin's too blind to see. Or maybe he chooses not to see it. The most likely option is that it's a combination of both.

"Should we start making theories about the next game?" Jimin offers, but he's quickly shut down by Luna and Tae.

"Rest," Tae insists, giving Jimin's shoulder a squeeze. "After today all three of us need it. Luna, thanks for sticking by our side for that game. I wasn't expecting it. And... thanks for putting up with me freezing. I'm sorry, I don't know what happened there." She's quick to chuckle, Tae's posture relaxing at the noise.

"Everyone reacts differently to bad situations. Jimin over here didn't so much as blink."

Jimin winces, Tae's eyes softening at the sight. "Get some sleep, we don't know how much longer we have until the next game. One per day, but they never said time. They might wake us up at midnight to catch us off guard. It's best to make sure we have enough energy as often as possible," Tae explains.

"Not a bad plan," Luna praises, stretching her limbs before hopping off Jimin's bed. "I'll be going then. If you need me, you know where to find me." She taps her number before sauntering off to her bed, Tae watching her the whole way to make sure she gets there safely. Jimin eyes the move, but keeps his curious mouth shut.

They turn to stare at one another, Jimin admiring his best friend's face. "I know voting to stay was a big decision," Tae sadly whispers, tilting his head back and forth. "I'm sorry I broke your trust in that regard." Jimin goes to protest, but Tae keeps talking. "The least I can do is promise that I'll get you back to them. You deserve it, Jimin. You deserve them. You're genuinely a good guy. The best of us. I'm sorry that the world doesn't see it."

Jimin sighs, gaining a bit of distance from Tae. "You're an adult. You made a choice. If I really am a good person, I wouldn't hold it against you. Really, don't apologize for being you. Let's not dwell on it, yeah? We have much more important things to worry about." Jimin offers Tae his hand, and the man slowly smiles before shaking it.

"That we definitely agree on." Tae taps his number, hopping up, "Remember my bunk if you need anything." Jimin curtly nods before Tae departs, Jimin slumping down to his pillow and staring up at the bland metal above him. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes, tears that he bit back around the other two. They gently fall down his coarse skin, his hand covering his mouth. Images of his wife and daughter float around his mind, encompassing him to the sorrow blooming inside him. Then, his tears fall even harder.

The worst part is, he doesn't even know who the tears are for...

333, or 3's as the other man called him, washes his bloody hands off. With emotions running high and voting taking up nearly an hour of their time, he hasn't had time to clean himself. Red light green light. A game he knows he'll never play again. Regardless he chose to stay, not worrying about the guilty conscious he'll likely carry for the rest of his life. Oh well. Add it to the mix of things brewing inside his past.

He glances around the bathroom, a little surprised to see it so empty. Everyone's still processing the vote, huh? Probably huddled in their corners panting and crying. Or some are celebrating. 3's certainly is. He's not entirely sure why, but he knows that money could solve problems. He just needs to figure out what his problems are first.

The bathroom door creaks open, 3's turning his attention to it. He almost groans. "3's, good to see you again," 93 calls, letting the door shut behind him. 333 huffs a grunt out in response, turning his attention back to the water. "Glad to see you're just as friendly as before," he continues as if it were a friendly conversation. 3's isn't even sure if he's had one of those.

"Just do your business and leave. I'm not here to talk."

"Maybe you could be," 93 challenges, "you voted to stay."

"And you voted to leave," 3's points out.

It's in that moment that 3's realizes he fell into 93's plan. "So you were paying attention to me," he points out, striding over to the sink and leaning against it. "I made a good impression after all," he remarks, not quite in a taunting manner, but there's an edge to his voice 3's can't quite put his finger on.

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"All the time, but not around those who intrigue me. Congratulations, you're the second person who's ever done that," 93 answers in a smooth, monotone voice. The sound practically acts like a siren drawing 3's in. He'd be lying if he said the idea of a friend, even if he makes this friend in Hell, isn't appealing. There's a small childlike part of his mind digging through to the surface, poking and prodding at his brain with a knife.

"Second? Not the first? Should I be offended?" 3's asks in response.

"Oh, he jokes."

"It wasn't a joke."

"Guess I'll keep dreaming," 93 sighs out, fixing 3's wrinkly sleeve. "The first is my future wife. Kylee. She's the only thing keeping me sane. That's why I voted to go, just so you know. I like the prospect of money, but I prefer my woman."

"I don't care," 3's honestly says, shutting off the sink.

"Can I ask you something?" 93 suddenly inquires, stopping 3's in his tracks. There's a certain thing about the flicker of 93's eyes that has 3's going still. His heart rate increases, sweat forming on the tips of his fingers.

"Fine," he breathlessly responds.

"Have you ever trusted someone? At all?"

The question throws him off for a moment, 3's pursing his lips to genuinely consider the words that were spoken to him. He even taps his finger against his chin. 93 watches the whole process silently. It's a shame that all that thinking goes to waste with such a simple answer. "No."

93 sighs, "If I told you my name, would you trust me?"

"Not even a little bit."

3's goes to leave, about to storm out the door, but 93 gently grabs his elbow. It's as if 93 is coddling him like a child. 333 wants so desperately to be offended, to feel a striking sensation of rage rip free from his rib cage... but it never comes. Instead, 3's ends up shrinking back to his childhood days. The days he barely had. The days he thought he forgot. His eyes slightly widen while his lips part, his gaze jumping back to land on 93's.

"Min Yoongi," 93, Yoongi, softly greets, shooting the man a gummy smile.

The two stare for several seconds before 333 delicately removes his elbow from Yoongi's grasp. The action equally shocks them both. "Just call me 3's," he shortly grumbles before walking out. His heart hops up to his throat, refusing to let him utter a word or sound. 3's marches down the path, but soon enough his posture slumps and his feet drag. Why does he feel so defeated? His mind flashes with thoughts of Yoongi's gummy smile. A real smile. Something 3's hasn't seen in years. The thought brings shudders down his breaking spine. 3's swallows the heartbeat that wanted to live in his parched throat and shakes his head. Why does he feel attached to Min Yoongi?

And why does he want to explore these feelings?

TO BE CONTINUED

Character chapter! It'll pretty much go like this a lot. Game, character, game, character, etc. So no, this story won't be long :( But the chapters will be, so overall it might be longer than some of my books that are like 30-60 chapters. Oooh how exciting~ Anyway I hope you enjoyed this episode! It was a blast to write and I love writing the boys and making you guess who's who. We've been introduced to every single one so far! Let me break it down: 092, Jin ; 191, unknown ; 333, unknown ; 077, unknown ; 013, Jimin ; 111, Taehyung ; 093, Yoongi. Bonus: 222, Luna. Thank you as always for reading, and see you next update! Next episode: Dalgona.