Squid Game... Kim Minjun: Part Two

[zarathrustra_ink]

Over the next few days, I hardly left my room. The only time they assembled us was to oversee the construction of games. I had no idea how long the players were gone, but I was very aware when they returned. The man in black was right. Almost every player had reentered the game. Amongst the returned was Player 240. She entered the playground with her nose pointed defiantly in the air, as if she were on a street in her neighborhood and not another death game. She sauntered right past me, allowing me to catch something I hadn’t caught the first time: The little jewel pierced through her nose.

The players were instructed to pick a shape between a circle, a star, a square and the worst of the four, an umbrella. Mentally, I prayed that Player 240 stayed far away from that shape. She was already standing too close to it before the rules were explained.
“Choose a shape and stand in front of it immediately.”
After the instructions were relayed, she took a few steps back and that is when I noticed she was one of the stragglers. No team, I mean. There were so many cliques that she and many of the others by themselves stood out. 

I paused long enough for her to select the line for squares. Like the others, she was instructed to accept a tin. Once in hand, she chose a spot beneath the clouds, against the red and green fence posts, her hair pressed against the bottom loops. It was probably a few seconds too long, but I had to be sure. 

“Take a moment to open the tin and view the contents.” We had been debriefed that today’s assignment was to wade through the sea of players, seeking out the ones who damaged their honeycomb in any way. Today we were not there for show. Today we were present to eliminate. I walked through the players, hoping that nobody’s shape would break beside me. I was sure that every triangle they chose had some type of military or police background, but that couldn’t be true if they chose me. I had only ever fired a gun on hunting trips with my dad before he stopped bonding with me and started bonding with the bottle. That was my only experience with firearms and even as I mimicked the other circles pulling the revolvers from their holsters, that fact didn’t change. The players were starting to open their tins. Gasps of disbelief were erupting from all four corners of the makeshift playground. The majority of the reactions were probably coming from the umbrellas. Had it been me, I would have been sobbing. Of course they hadn’t told them the importance of their choice. Why would they? 

I flitted my gaze to Player 240. With the square cradled within her fingers, if she was nervous, that was pushed to the side to make time to roll her eyes at Player 244, who was whispering over his tin. I didn’t know what was in his, but whatever it was either required prayer or this was just a part of his personality. Either way, her eyes did a full rotation around their sockets (Not once, not twice, but three times.) before turning her attention back to her own tin. She lifted the lid, revealing the shape that she had chosen. She sighed a triumphant little sigh then got to work with the needle.

POW! I bet he had an umbrella. I thought, watching Player 360's body slide down the slide. He left a long, bloody streak before stopping at the very end, dead. The game was only ten minutes long and as each second ticked by, the players were becoming more and more frantic. I noticed a square confronting a… What was a circle doing there? I knew I was supposed to be watching the players, but this was interesting. I decided to make my way to the other side before the square could tell that once again, I had stopped for a few moments too long. On the other side of the slide, Player 456 had taken to licking his honeycomb. Luckily, my smile was covered by a mask. Even in such a dire situation, I couldn’t help, but wonder if he gave his wife the same attention he was giving that umbrella. I already knew the answer was probably no because I’d heard the squares discussing a few of the players, waging bets on who was guaranteed to return to the games. As a gambling, deadbeat father, Player 456 had received the most votes. In second place was some guy who had embezzled a lot of money. Quite possibly more than I would see in my lifetime. When I finally looked away, Player 240 was gone.

Suddenly there was a scream. Player 219 was dragging a pink jumpsuit across the floor. The white square could be seen from where we were already getting in formation. This man had no idea what he was doing screaming about shooting that square. None of them cared. We were all expendable. Instead of opening fire on him, the back row pivoted to shoot the remaining players who hadn’t succeeded. Their time was up. On my side of the formation, Player 219 was demanding to know why some players had received easier shapes, as if he hadn’t chosen the umbrella. All of us were pointing at him now. There was no way he thought he was leaving that area alive. 

“Take off your mask!" He shouted, shoving the jumpsuit in front of him. When there was hesitation, he added: “Don’t make me shoot.” The square reached for his mask. The white lining was lifted in the air, revealing a face. I almost gasped. It was a boy! He couldn’t have been anymore than sixteen or seventeen. He’s just a boy! Squares were our leaders. They gave us our orders. Our orders were coming from a child. 

“Turn around okay.” Inch by meticulous inch, he turned until the face that we saw was now seen by Player 219. “You’re just a kid. What did they do to you?” Without awaiting the response, he lifted the gun from the child and pointed it at his temple. For the second time in my life, I was watching a bullet sail through somebody’s skull. 

I hadn’t seen him enter the room. The tall, mysterious blocky mask was almost in a jog as he crossed the playground. He pulled the trigger. The boy fell backwards, dead. “Remember… Once they find out who you are, you die.” He said, turning away. As quickly as he’d appeared, he was out the door once more, almost as if he was never there. I exhaled the breath that I’d been holding. Once again, I’d narrowly escaped having to shoot my gun. The circles entered the room, ushering in a few carts with black boxes. Each box was adorned with a gigantic pink ribbon. They stopped by the fallen players one by one and placed them in a box. 

“Dinner time.” A square said suddenly.  

Dinner?

The contents of my stomach churned in protest.

******