The clang of a steel baton against iron bars echoed down the corridor, sharp and metallic,
cutting through the dark.
Footsteps followed. Slow. Deliberate. Threatening.
They stopped outside Cell 501.
A guard in a black uniform stood at the bars, his face unreadable beneath the shadow of his
cap.
Inside, I lay on the concrete floor, unable to move. My face was swollen, my lips split and
bleeding. Three inmates stood over me, laughing, savoring it. One of them—Mark, a mountain of a
man with a shaved head—had his boot pressed against my skull, pinning me in place.
The baton cracked against the bars again.
The laughter died instantly. Mark clicked his tongue and stepped back.
The guard's eyes swept the cell. "Cell 501. You will now participate in the first G.G.G Game."
The inmates traded uneasy glances. Hammy stepped forward, suspicion sharpening his voice.
"The hell is a G.G.G Game?"
"A game where your lives are at stake," the guard said, flat and unhurried.
The words landed like a physical blow. Pip's face twisted. "What do you mean, our lives are at
stake?"
Before the guard could answer, footsteps sounded again—this time from inside the cell.
Everyone froze.
They came from the darkest corner, a spot no one had thought to look. A place where no one
should have been hiding.
A figure stepped out of the shadows. None of us had realized someone else was locked in here
with us. He crossed the cell without hurry, stepping into the light until his face was clear: lean,
sharply built, crimson hair falling past his shoulders, and eyes that held a stillness none of us could
place.
Even the guard looked shaken. "What the hell—" He pointed. "Why are you in this cell?"
The stranger tilted his head. "I'm a player too."
"What are you talking about?"
He didn't answer. He simply walked past the guard, brushing his shoulder as he passed—and
the guard's protest died in his throat as a scream tore through the cell.
"AAAAAAAHHHHH!"
We turned as one. Matt had woken on his bunk, something wet dripping onto his face. When
he looked up, his eyes went wide with a horror none of us would ever forget.
"No—no—no!"
Alex hung from the ceiling above him. Dead. Blood soaked through his clothes, dark drops still
falling onto Matt below.
The cell went silent. Even the guard's face drained of color. He fumbled the lock, rushed in,
and swept his flashlight upward—confirming what we already knew. No pulse. No breath.
Nothing.
The footsteps returned.
The red-haired stranger stepped forward, a faint smile touching his mouth. "Right—I never
introduced myself." His gaze moved over each of us in turn. "My name is Fox." The smile
widened. "And starting today, I'm your new cellmate."
The guard's face flushed with fury. "That's not how this works! You don't just decide to be a
prisoner!"
Fox blinked, feigning confusion, then shrugged. "There were only four players left in this cell."
His eyes drifted to Alex's body. "The game's about to start. Shouldn't we have the right number?"
The guard opened his mouth. Nothing came out.
Minutes later, armed guards marched us through endless, shadowed corridors. My thoughts
wouldn't slow down—how had I ended up here? I was an ordinary student living an ordinary life,
until the day I was taken and thrown into this nightmare. I knew nothing about this place, who ran
it, or whether escape was even possible. The only thing I knew for certain: if I wanted to live, I had
to adapt. Whatever it took.
Ahead, light bled through the dark, growing brighter with every step, until we passed through a
doorway and stopped cold.
We stood inside a vast white chamber, lit so brightly there was nowhere left to hide. Other
groups filed in from separate corridors, every face marked by the same fear, the same confusion.
Then a voice rolled through the room—cold, powerful, coming from everywhere and nowhere
at once.
"Hello, players. Welcome to your first G.G.G Game."
The room fell utterly still.
"The game you will play today..." A pause, deliberate. "...is COLOR RUSH."
Screens flared to life along the walls, burning with bold text:
COLOR RUSH
Objective: Collect all nine colors before the game ends. The nine colors—Blue, Red, Yellow,
Orange, Green, Purple, Pink, Black, White.
There are nine rooms. Each holds one color. Enter, survive what waits inside, and claim it.
Collect all nine.
How to Win: Possess one of every color. Complete the set, and you survive.
Elimination: Every color is limited. If a color runs out before you claim it, your set can never
be complete. Fail to finish it, and you die. No exceptions. No mercy. No second chances.
Silence swallowed the room whole. Some players sobbed. Others trembled, or simply stared,
unable to process it.
Beside me, Fox was smiling. Not from fear. Not from resignation.
Anticipation.
And in that moment I understood something far more frightening than anything we'd just been
told.
Everyone else in this room was afraid to die.
Fox looked like he'd been waiting his whole life for exactly this.
"Why am I even here?" I muttered, frustration boiling over. "I'm just an ordinary student living
a normal life—so why am I standing in a game where my life is the stake?"
Blood trickled from my nose. The bruises those three had left throbbed with every breath. I
laughed, bitter and short, staring up at the lights strung across the ceiling as my mind slipped
backward—one year, to before any of this began.
• • •
I was still in school then. My name is Mitzie. I was seventeen.
I was sitting on a bench outside the school building, sipping iced coffee, when a boy my age
walked over.
"Hey, Mitz."
I looked up, wary. Who is he? How does he know my name? Did Mitch send him to collect a
debt? I already paid that back.
"What do you want?" I said flatly. "Do I know you? If Mitch sent you, I already settled it."
I glanced at the ID clipped to his uniform: Amons Kling.
He laughed under his breath. "Something funny, Kling?" I snapped.
He looked surprised. "So you do know me."
I nodded at the badge. "That's how. Say what you came to say."
"Fair enough." He smiled, easy and unhurried. "Amons Kling. Nice to meet you." He offered
his hand.
I didn't take it. "What do you actually want?"
He paused, tilting his head as if searching for the answer somewhere behind him. "Me? Hm.
Why did I come over here? Can't remember, actually."
"Right." I stood. "If you don't need anything, I'd like to be left alone."
"Whatever you want." Still smiling, he turned and walked away.
I closed my eyes, letting the sun warm my face—and then the world tilted. My head swam, my
vision blurred, and as I slumped forward into the dark, the last thing I saw was Kling, watching me
fall. Floating beside him was something that shouldn't have existed: a glowing, translucent shape,
pulsing faintly like a jellyfish adrift in open water.
When I opened my eyes again, I was in that cell.
• • •
I snapped back to the present, scowling. "Just thinking about Kling's face makes this worse," I
muttered. He knows something. I was sure of it. My family's probably looking for me right now.
The voice rolled through the chamber again, louder this time.
"THE GAME STARTS NOW."
Nine doors materialized out of the air, each glowing a different color—Blue, Red, Yellow,
Orange, Green, Purple, Pink, Black, White. A ripple of disbelief moved through the crowd; no one
could explain how they'd simply appeared.
Before anyone else could move, Fox strode forward, cutting through the frozen players. He
stepped through the Blue door without hesitation, his face lit with an excitement he didn't bother to
hide—like he'd been waiting his whole life for this exact moment.
• • •