Bleeding. Running. Falling. Dying. All four things combined served as a horrific, nightmarish experience for the man currently, literally, fleeing for his life. His bare feet hit the concrete floor with resounding crunches and slaps – he did not even care that his soles were bleeding from the sheer force of it, and tiny droplets of blood were left behind in a trail. A trail that would make it so much easier for his pursuer to catch him.

A haunting red glow dimly lit the passageways, only pronouncing the large blood spills and splatters on the walls. The shadows that danced and mingled, created from occupants not even near enough, were as monstrous as the beings partaking in this unholy game.

God, please help me out of here! A desperate, silent prayer was his only comfort at this time.

For the past three days he'd been living in a literal nightmare, one he could not seem to wake from. Him along with so many others had been rounded up, snatched right off the streets, and brought to this… this prison! For three days they were not allowed to eat, drink or see anything; they were held in cramped rooms underground, deprived of all basic necessities. They were taunted by – guards? – he did not know nor did he care. All he knew for certain was, one: at least half of the two dozen or so other captives were already dead, and the others were most likely on their way.

He'd seen their bodies as he frantically traversed through the mammoth of a maze, at nearly every twist, turn and zigzag there was some type of carnage. All of them were mutilated, decapitated, torn limb from limb, torched, stabbed, shot. He saw some of the people who had done it, saw as they laughed, heartlessly taunted the poor souls as they brutally, mercilessly ended them. He saw one man gleefully mutilating a naked woman after strangling her with a chain, calling her all sorts of derogatory and perverted things. It had made him sick to his stomach, and if he had had any food in his system he would've thrown up right there.

But there was nothing he could do. If he didn't keep moving, then his fate was surely sealed. His fate was sealed regardless; once you were brought here, you were as good as dead. This was what the government permitted, what the world praised and celebrated. The termination of humans by other humans, all in the name of a twisted reality that has been for generations.

He was so tired – he wasn't sure how long he'd been running since being released from his cell. Hiding wasn't much of an option either, seeing that there was no real place to do so. Everything was walled up and there were no doors, no signs that directed to anything. It was literally a game of chance, except it was always the same type of player that won. A nasty cut on his leg was beginning to hurt and bleed badly, draining him of energy

No… keep going… you need to keep going. You need to-

Bang!

He'd been so focused on trying to retain his perseverance that he wasn't concentrating on where he was going. He had run smack dab into a wall. He felt blood pour of his nose and he fell over with a strangled cry. He held his broken nose, his tattered, blood soaked clothing doing little to protect from the cold ground. His head was spinning and he wanted nothing more than to finally pass out from exhaustion, briefly forgetting the predicament he was in.

That reprieve from his mortal terror did not last long, as he soon heard the tell-tale sounds of someone approaching. Someone who was most definitely not about to help him. "Looks like I wore you out, huh big guy?" The mockingly evil voice teased, following it up with a cruel laugh. The victim tried to sit up but was too weak. "Please, don't hurt me," he pleaded hoarsely, tears forming in his eyes. He didn't want to die. He had a family, a young son to care for. He didn't want to suffer for some sicko's enjoyment.

A pair of black boots stopped in front of him, his trembling form shrouded with his tormentor's shadow. "What was that? I didn't hear you." The man who had chosen him as his personal target cocked his head to the side, holding one hand to his ear. "P-please. I-I have a child and a wife. I can't…" He broke down then, his emotions getting to him as the weight of the situation finally hit him full force.

His would-be murderer crouched down, a concerned look on his face. "Aw, I didn't know that. How terrible." He touched his hair as though trying to comfort the man, but inwardly he was already busting. "But, you know, if I don't do this then that will just be one more bit of trash on the streets. Aren't you supposed to want the 'greater good' for the world?" He laughed maniacally, grabbing him by the throat. He pulled a knife out from his jacket pocket, slowly revealing the eight-inch long blade. It gleamed it the red light, sharp and clean.

For now.

His victim's eyes widened and he began shaking his head.

"No, please! I'll do anything!" The killer grinned, using the flat end of the knife to caress his face. "Anything?" he asked, gently gliding the blade over his cheek and down to his neck.

The man gulped. "Y-yes." He didn't want to give into the general public's perversion, but it was worth anything to save his life. His captor leaned close to his ear, and in a deep voice said "Die." Without warning, the knife was plunged into his stomach. He gasped, looking down at the blade to see that only the handle was visible. His body trembled ferociously as blood leaked out from the wound.

With a wicked smirk, the killer twisted the knife around. The man screamed in pain. It felt like his insides were being churned up. "S-s-s" was all he could utter out before the blade was harshly yanked out before being driven in again. His attacker moaned in delight. He viciously turned the knife as though he were mixing something in a bowl, deliberately grinding in deeper and deeper.

As his victim choked on his own blood, writhing in agony, he took evident pleasure in what he was doing. "Ah… fuck yes," he groaned, throwing his head back as endorphins flooded his bloodstream. He then stopped turning the knife, looking his victim in the eye with a serious look before it morphed into something near crazed. He licked his lips, grasping the handle with both hands and slowly pushed upward.

The man choked and gagged as the knife moved through him, tearing through muscles and vessels. Copious amounts of blood flooded out of him like a burst pipeline, guts spilling out as well. It was the nastiest vertical wound, leading all the way up to his heart and piercing the beating muscle.

He had literally just been sliced in two from the chest down. As this was happening, his killer was overcome with euphoria, his body reacting to an orgasm just as he let out a dying, bloody cough that splattered the liquid on his face before his eyes turned pure white and he fell over in his own bodily fluids.

Taking a moment to come down from the high, the killer licked the blood off his face. "Mmm, fuck that's good." He pulled the knife out and licked the crimson liquid off that too, finding an all new high as his taste buds exploded from the flavour. Smiling, he got to his feet, checking himself to see if any blood had gotten on his clothes. His bottom lip curled in disgust when he saw that he had gotten a good bit on his jacket. "Ugh, disgusting."

He always hated it when that happened, especially when it was the blood of a degenerate like the fool he'd just slaughtered. He looked down at the body, his feelings of disgruntlement leaving when he saw the expression on its face. That was one of the best parts. "But I guess that's a small price to pay for a bit of fun."

Happily, he left the body there, knowing someone would collect it later for dumping, and made his way out of the maze. It wasn't hard for him – he'd been here so many times that it might as well have been his home. Plus, the 'butchers' as they were called, were always given exact directions on how to maneuver the painstakingly difficult labyrinth, and that included shortcuts to where the 'meat' would be.

He exited the main compound, the security on duty nodding in acknowledgement as he walked by. There were a few more people still milling around in the car park, talking about their latest runs and how they went about it. He had gotten to where his car was parked when someone called out "Yo, Shane!" Turning around, he saw a familiar face bounding up to him. "Hey man, haven't seen you at the Playground in a while." "Hey, Matt; nah I'm around, just getting too busy to play." Matt was one of the first people he had met at the Playground and they had done a tag-team together a couple times.

Matt was insane, but that was fine because he was insane too. Shane ran a hand through his red hair, which in the purple night sky seemed even redder than usual as his companion spoke again.

"Yeah, I saw that. Congrats by the way – who else would win Creator of The Year besides the baddest guy around, aye?" Matt gave him a congratulatory pat on the back and Shane smirked. "Well you know: do before someone else does." "I hear you. Hope you had fun tonight; this bunch was really spicy." Matt licked his lips before sighing. "Next time make sure you bring your boy around though. It's been a while. We could have a double again if you want." "I'll think about it." Not really though since he hates you idiots. After a couple more unimportant words, Matt went back to his group and Shane got into his car, taking off his jacket and tossing it on the floor.

It was a matte black Tesla and was still brand new, having just been bought the previous month. It would've sucked to get blood on the seats. He cringed before relaxing again, the cool leather of the seats offering him optimum comfort.

The car's detail was customized with black and red, his two favourite colours. The seats were black with red graphics of flaming wolves; the animal had accidentally become a part of his brand after a ridiculous occurrence a couple years ago. The interior lights were red, as well as the front lights and the built-in lights underneath the vehicle. His boyfriend Ryland had said that it looked like a hell-car, and Shane had beamed proudly at that.

After about an hour of driving he finally made it back to his house. It was dark and deathly quiet – if anything, the house appeared just as dead as the people who'd been 'invited' to play tonight. He figured that Ryland was asleep, which, in hindsight was unfortunate for him; he was thinking back on his kill, how the man had cried and begged, the way the knife felt in his hand as he slowly twisted it around in his insides – the sweet, sweet taste of his blood… "Ugh, God…" He needed a something to take out his tension on, and Ryland was the nearest thing right now. He walked through the darkened house, creeping up the stairs his 'little friend' was doing its own creeping up.

He made it to their bedroom, seeing Ryland snuggled in the blankets. Shane walked over, quietly taking off his boots and tossing the jacket on one of the large beanbags across the room before jumping on to the bed, grabbing hold of him. "What the fuck," his partner grumbled, looking up in a daze. "Hey smelly," Shane greeted with a lopsided grin. "The fuck is wrong with you," the other man grumbled as he tried to push him off. Shane didn't budge though and instead grabbed his hand and placed it on his crotch area. "That's what's wrong with me." He rubbed Ryland's hand against his straining erection before using it to unzip his pants, despite him complaining about wanting to go back to sleep.

"Get yourself off you freak," he hissed. "Shut up you stupid tramp!" By then he was so horny that he felt he would just choke Ryland to get the satisfaction he needed. Ryland glared at him. "I hate you." "I hate you more – so get to it before I have to slap the shit out of you," Shane growled, resting his hand on his throbbing member. Sucking his teeth, Ryland obliged, if only to be able to get back to sleep. He took a hold of Shane's erect penis and began roughly stroking it.

Shane groaned, grabbing his face and pushing his swollen tip into his mouth. "Suck you idiot," he ordered, and once again his demands were met. He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to travel back to what had happen just a couple hours ago; that combined with the delicious sensations of Ryland's mouth sucking and playing with him was enough to send him into a state once more. "Yes… yes, that's it…" He moved his hips to gain more friction, laughing a bit when he heard Ryland gag. "Imagine if you were to die from my cock…" The thought if that made him leak a little, and he continued to roughly mouth-fuck him until he finally climaxed, filling his mouth with his seed.

Sighing with relief, he pulled out and rocked back on his legs to relax. He was then brought out of his settling by the taste of his own cum hitting him square in the face. "Fuck!"

He looked up at Ryland, who appeared quite pleased with spitting his juices out. "I swear I'll kill you," Shane uttered. "Not if I kill you first," Ryland responded with a shrug, deciding to lay back down because he was too tired to really deal with anything. And 'anything' meant his overly thirsty partner.

"I'm guessing that was because you had a good run?" he asked, closing his eyes. Shane had been busy wiping his face with a nearby towel, grumbling when the question was asked but perking up immediately after. "Man, one of the best runs I've had! This one actually had a family. Oh, I could just imagine how horrified they'll be when they find out…" "Hey, don't work yourself up again because I'm not doing shit again," Ryland warned, earning an eye-roll from Shane. He went to lie down, pulling his man on to him as he spoke. "I want you to come with me next time," he offered, his nails scraping Ryland's sides as he spoke. "It's been a while since we've had a date night." "I hate the Playground," Ryland said after a brief pause, using his sharp nails to lightly scratch Shane's face. "If you could get something together, like what we did with Jeffree, then I'm in."

They kissed and Shane sighed. "We could do whatever we want babe; if that's what I have to do to see you kill some poor sod again then I'm in." They laughed and kissed again, deeper than the last time. While killing and torturing was always a great come off, watching his guy do it was a million times more exciting for him. He was in the process of transforming a portion of their new property into a slaughterhouse, just for the two of them. He had the idea after working with Jeffree Star and visiting his private dungeon. It had been magical. He wanted to create his own magic.

"Give me some time and I'll get us our own playground," he whispered Ryland's ear, smirking when he felt the younger man shiver in his grasp. "That sounds perfect," he agreed, smiling as he went in for another kiss. They had a heated make-out session, and that developed into something much more than simple lip action. Perhaps Ryland wasn't so tired after all.

Hey again! So a few things really quick: yes, this story goes kind of hard from the start, but this is literally child's play compared to what's coming. Also, I'm planning on updating this weekly, depending on how quickly I can write - it'll be every Thursday at 7 PM. This is being posted now (on a Monday) because the girls were really excited and I honestly couldn't wait any longer either. Hope you liked the first chapter though, and hope you stick around for more!