Let the Games Begin DreamNotFound

Chapter 2

TW: death, blood, violence, panic

George POV

Tag? Wasn't that... a children's game? George hadn't played tag since he was nine years old at his elementary playground. 

"The rules are simple. Half of you will be given a ball with a timer set to differentiating amount of times. Those with one of these balls is 'It' and must tag another player." The Game Host explained. "To tag a player, simply tap the person and the ball will automatically attach to them. This will be demonstrated now."

Two guards walked to the front of the players, one holding a large black sphere the size of a baseball. The guard turned and pressed the ball against their fellow guard's arm. When the guard let go, the ball was stuck. 

George stared in fascination as the guard waved their arm, the ball not moving. The guard then picked up the ball in their hands, and showed off the impossibility of dropping the ball that appeared to glue itself to black gloves.

More guards weaved between the players, handing random numbers one of the black spheres. George held his breath when one of the guards brushed past him, silently praying not to pick him. 

Purple slithered through blue, eventually lining up at the corner of the wall. Anxious eyes watched a smaller section of the wall lift in the same way as the elevator. The guards walked through in single file, disappearing from sight when the wall lowered once more. 

"You have until that timer ends to stick the ball to another player. Dropping the ball is impossible, to attempt to do so will waste your precious time." The Game Host rubbed his hands together. "The game will now begin."

"What happens at the end of the timer?" A boy with messy blond hair shouted.

The screen turned black in answer, the Game Host disappearing. 

George stumbled when two shoulders roughly pushed past him as players began to back away from those with one of the black spheres. The Game Host never answered the blond boy's question, but whatever happened at the end of that timer couldn't be good. The mechanisms of the spheres didn't make sense, either. No one was taking any chances.

Player 101 swiftly disappeared into the crowd, and he couldn't spot 123 or 205. George glanced around rapidly, scanning the moving bodies for black spheres. 

A loud BANG sounded somewhere to his left, followed by ear-splitting screams and squelchy splattering.

The crowd was immediately alive, players racing around in pure terror. George flinched when a young girl tripped, her body trampled on by countless sneakers. Another BANG sounded, this time horrifyingly closer. Scarlet stained some of the blue tracksuits, and the brunette caught a glimpse of red pulp scattered on the ground between rushing bodies. 

The ground felt as though it was yanked out from under him, and he caught one repeated word among the screaming voices. The same word latched onto his mind. Bomb.

Adrenaline rushed through George's limbs, his own pounding feet lost in the thundering of hundreds of sneakers. His head swiveled wildly, desperately dodging players. All around him players lunged at one another, sealing each other's fate with a single black sphere. 

"NO!" A skinny teenage boy flailed wildly, three of the bombs attached to his body. His eyes were white with terror. "SOMEONE HELP ME! PLEASE!" 

A woman broke away from the crowd, racing towards the boy. George's stomach dropped when he saw the bomb clutched behind her back, heart shattering when the boy's face lit with hope. The woman avoided the boy's gaze, her arm flashing forward to stick the bomb.