I flipped the red card over in my hand as I walked down the sidewalk, still thinking about that slap game.
Strange logo. No proper phone number. Just some weird six-digit sequence.
I shook my head and laughed to myself. "Man… what kind of company doesn't even put a real number on their shit?"
I shoved it in my pocket and kept going. Probably just a dumb street gimmick.
Later that night, I dropped into my gaming chair like usual. My room looked like a war zone — cans everywhere, pizza crusts in a takeout box, and cereal bowls that looked like they'd been fossilized.
"Damn... I should really clean up," I muttered, already knowing I wouldn't.
I took out my phone and opened TikTok. As I scrolled, I saw videos of guys flexing their "get rich quick" schemes, girls dancing, random memes — all the usual noise.
Every couple swipes, though, my eyes drifted over to that red card on my dresser. It was pissing me off.
"Fuck it," I finally said.
I picked it up and dialed the weird number.
It rang once.
"Thank you for calling. Please meet us at Terminal 46, San Pedro Harbor. Dock C. Be there by 10 PM."
I froze for a second. Then cracked up.
"Terminal 46? A dock? Man, they really going all in on this scam shit," I said, laughing.
I tossed my phone onto the bed. "If they rob me, at least I'll get a good story out of it."
Deep down, though... there was something else. A tiny spark that felt good. A chance to do something alone. No uncle. No easy money. Just me proving something, even if I didn't know what exactly.
---
My room was dead quiet. The only sound was the ticking of the old clock on my wall.
I had already called the number earlier. Same address: Terminal 46, San Pedro Harbor.
I looked it up. Sketchy-ass industrial port.
"Six grand..." I whispered to myself, the words tasting like metal.
I wasn't scared of DK. I knew his type — loud, reckless, all bark until they find someone weaker.
But I also knew how the streets worked.
Unpaid debts turned into fights, and fights turned into funerals.
I wasn't about to leave my mom and sister behind to clean up my mess.
I looked at the red card on my desk, then at my phone lockscreen of my family.
"This feels like a setup… but I need that cash."
I sighed.
"I'll go. Tomorrow."
I lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling Forcing my mind to go blank
---
The next day, I woke up earlier than usual.
The sun was blasting through my window, so I jumped out of bed feeling kinda alive for once.
I grabbed some random shirt off the floor, sniffed it, and decided it was good enough.
Tossing the red card on my dashboard, I hopped into my beat-up Honda Civic, and merged and quickly left.
"This is so dumb... If they jump me, atleast it's a new story for my grandkids," I said out loud, grinning.
On the way, I swung by my favorite spot and grabbed a caramel macchiato ice cappe with extra sugar.
The barista gave me that one look — the "bro you're gonna die of diabetes" look — and I just smiled.
Back in the car, I cranked up my playlist and sang along, turning the steering wheel into my personal drum set. For a moment, I forgot about everything else — my uncle, the debt, all of it.
When I finally pulled into the empty terminal lot, I looked around. Just a few flickering lights, the salty breeze from the ocean, and some random shipping containers stacked like Tetris blocks.
I stepped out, stretched, and was about to crack another joke.
Before someone came up behind me and pressed a towel to my face.
My vision blurred instantly.
A bag slipped over my head.
Then — nothing.
---
I didn't have a car.
I had to take three different buses, and each one felt like it lasted a whole lifetime.
On the second bus, I almost pressed the stop button. My thumb hovered there for a good ten seconds before I finally pulled it back. It was too late to go back now.
I thought about that game again. The way that old man kept getting slapped and kept coming back. It wasn't just about the money. There was something behind it, something deeper.
Was this all set up to punish people? Was it a sick game from the start?
I remembered all the times my mom had warned me about shortcuts, about "easy money."
But I needed this. I had no choice.
Finally, I got off and walked about twenty minutes through empty streets.
When I reached the dock, I barely had a chance to look around.
Someone lunged out of the shadows and pressed a soaked cloth to my face.
I tried to fight it off, but everything turned heavy, my legs buckling under me.
A bag slipped over my head.
Then — blackness.
---
I don't know how long I was out.
When I opened my eyes, I was lying on a cold bunk bed in some huge, empty-looking warehouse room. The walls were painted a sickly green, and bright lights burned overhead.
All around me were rows of other beds, stacked high like some military dorm or prison block.
I sat up, my head pounding.
I looked across the aisle and saw the guy from yesterday... Sean.
He was just waking up too, rubbing his eyes and looking around like he had woken up from a nap.
I forced myself to stand up, even though my legs felt like jelly.
Sean caught my eye, and for a second, neither of us said anything.
Then he gave me a goofy grin.
"Well... guess we both got scammed, huh?" he said, shaking his head.
I let out a short, humorless laugh.
Around us, other people were starting to wake up too — all wearing identical green sweatsuits with numbers stamped on the front.
I only then realized how many of us there where, somewhere in the hundreds if I had to guess. Some looked confused. Some terrified. Some looked calm.
I took a deep breath, scanning the room again.
Whatever this was... it was certainly too late to turn back now.
-------
I sat there, trying to steady my breathing. My head was still foggy. The heavy smell of disinfectant and stale metal filled the air.
Sean swung his legs over the side of the bunk and looked around. "Yo… this feels like a summer camp from hell," he joked.
I smirked. "You ever been to summer camp?"
He snorted. "Nah. Closest I got was when my uncle left me at the mall overnight when I was eight."
I let out a real laugh this time, though it came out sharp and quick. Silence soon fell.
Around us, people were starting to move, sitting up slowly or stumbling off their bunks.
Some were younger than us, others looked like they'd been living on the edge for years. A few folks were already crying quietly into their hands.
I glanced down at the uniform I was wearing; a green sweatsuit, with a big white patch with the number 045. Sean was 023.
"Paul, right?" Sean finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Yeah."
He nodded. "Sean. Good to meet you, I guess… if we die, at least we had this cute little introduction," he said, giving me a crooked grin.
"You always joke around this much?" I asked.
He paused, his face tightening for a moment. "Yeah… well. Can't take life too seriously. Shit's too short."
"Fair enough," I said, shaking my head.
A sharp sound echoed through the massive hall — like a loud buzzer at a basketball game. Everyone's head snapped up.
A set of large double doors opened at the far end of the room.
A line of people in red jumpsuits and black masks with different shapes stepped in. Their footsteps were heavy, boots thudding against the floor.
Sean leaned closer to me. "Yo… what is this? A fuckin' cosplay convention?"
I shushed him quickly, my eyes locked on the masked guards.
One of them stepped forward and raised a microphone to his mask.
"Welcome, players," his voice boomed, strangely distorted. "You have been given a second chance to repay your debts and change your life. Soon, you will be given the rules. Until then, please remain calm and do not leave this room."
A few people started shouting questions, but the guards didn't react. They just stood there, like statues.
Then the guard who had spoken raised his hand, and a couple other guards wheeled in carts stacked with metal trays.
They started handing out simple meals — a bottle of water and a small container of rice with a boiled egg.
We both got up and grabbed our meals before returning to our bunks.
Sean grabbed his tray, looked at the egg, and laughed. "Guess we're not getting room service in this place."
I held my tray, staring at the food. My stomach twisted. I hadn't realized how hungry I was.
I forced myself to eat, every bite dry and hard to swallow.
Across from us, a skinny guy with messy hair and shaking hands tried to talk to a woman next to him.
"This isn't real, right? This is just a prank show? Like… like one of those YouTube things?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
The woman didn't answer. She just kept staring at the wall, her fingers tapping rapidly on her tray like a broken metronome.
Sean leaned back on his bunk after finishing his food. "Man… I knew LA had some weird shit going on, but this is another level," he said.
I finished my meal in silence, my mind racing.
I looked at Sean. Despite his jokes, I could tell he was thinking just as hard as I was.
Why us? What did we sign up for? Was there really money, or did we just get kidnapped?
Before I could say anything else, the buzzer blared again.
The guards started moving forward, forming two long lines by the door.
"Players, please prepare to move into the next area," the voice boomed again.
Some people hesitated, some stood instantly. A few had to be dragged to their feet.
Sean glanced at me and gave a small nod.
"Guess this is it," he said.
I nodded back, feeling my throats go dry.
We shuffled into line, the green uniforms blending into a single nervous mass.
Whatever waited behind those doors… it was too late to run now.
_____
Cuz I feel like it theyre kidnapped their is no waiver for them to leave they are forced into the squid games, and tbh they're murdering people so what's a kidnapping charge on the list anyway.