pong.
The obnoxious sound of a ringing bell filled the room, making everyone jump, some falling from their bed to the floor, some just sitting up, some getting up. While the reactions varied, everyone covered their ears, desperate to protect them from the noise so loud it hurt their ears. Among them, though, Number 269 stuck out, however. She was still lying down, her pillow on her face, groaning loudly – though barely loud enough to be heard over the bell. Finally, after what felt like ages, the noise stopped, a collective sigh of relief leaving almost everyone’s lips, everyone else busy complaining about how loud and annoying it was, creating a neverending chatter. Number 269 threw the pillow aside, getting up slowly, looking around.
“Shut up!” She yelled, unsuccessfully grabbing their attention, too busy talking to one another. She rolled her eyes, yelling way louder, “Shut the fuck up!” Now, that was loud enough. Everyone’s eyes fixed on her, silence engulfing the room. She nodded, smirking to herself. “Yeah, that’s a lot better. You guys are more annoying than the fucking bell.”
Number 368 stood up, walking towards the girl, towering over her. She wasn’t short either, no, he was just monstrously tall. For a second, they just glared at one another. “You know why we’re here, don’t you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “I can’t wait to see you die first.”
At that, she couldn’t help but laugh, “What? You think you can win this game? Only one out of all of us can, and it sure won’t be you. Not with this attitude, at least.”
“I wasn’t the one screaming, was I?”
“You’ll be screaming soon enough.”
“Oh, will I? What will you do?”
She shrugged, only to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine, forcing him to bend over in pain, allowing her to grab him by the hair and yanking him down, his head hitting the floor with a loud splat. “Probably something like this.” She placed her foot on his face, pressing down on it, the sound of his screams sounding quite like music to her ears, “If you beg, I might have mercy and let you die during the games, and not pitifully, right here. So come on, beg.” By now, a crowd of people watching had formed, but no one spoke a word nor did anything to help in any way. It was quite telling when it came to defining who was in this place. She grinned.
“Fine, fuck, okay. I beg you, stop it. Stop.”
“You forgot the magic word, darling.” She stepped down further, a scream echoing through the dorms.
“Please…”
She nodded, taking her foot off his face. “Let that be your lesson. Do I need to repeat myself?”
He got up, tears streaming down his pale cheeks. “No, no… understood, perfectly so.”
She smiled, waving at him as he left. Looking at the crowd that had formed, she raised an eyebrow. “Anybody wants to be next?” No one dared to mutter a word, “Then scatter around, just be quiet, god fucking damn it.”
Sitting down on her bed, Number 269 simply stared at her hands, deep in thought. Maybe it was a bad idea to stay, doing nothing, maybe she should try to run away. She was going to die either way, wasn’t she? A sigh left her lips, but before she could decide, the dorm doors opened wide, agents dressed in all black coming in, the HYDRA symbol on their chest.
“Attention,” The one in the middle spoke, everyone crowding around them, including Number 269 – though she could barely see much with the amount of people there. “The first game will begin soon. The rules will be explained to you once we get there. Make sure to leave every belongings you might have behind, you will be thoroughly searched and frisked before coming in, and if anything is found, you will be immediately eliminated.”
Number 269 saw some people going back to their bed, leaving various stuff behind – going from small knives to lighters, most of them being weapons. Some were pictures, though. Family ones, or in general of people they cared about, or so she at least assumed. Still, she hadn’t brought anything with her, knowing she wouldn’t be allowed to use it during the games – it felt quite useless.
After everyone seemed to be done and had come back to the crowd, the agents turned around, leading them outside.
The corridors were dark, barely lit with small circular lights on the ceiling. There were doors scattered around, but none had labels on them or anything to suggest what could be behind them. She was left assuming the agents must know the place by heart, though they all held a tablet in their hands that they checked from time to time, so perhaps they had some sort of map there. She couldn’t be sure, however.
She always hated the games, ever since she first heard her parents talk about them when she was little. At the time, she was scared of them. Her mother hadn’t told her what they were truly held for yet either, so she used it to her advantage and told her only bad children who didn’t do what they were told were sent there. For the most part, it was a good enough lever to force her to listen.
After what felt like ages, they finally made their way in front of the destined door. It was the only one they ran into so far with a label on it. It was bright, in a font reminiscent of the ones used for Arcade games in the play rooms she would go to when she was younger. In all caps, it read the word “PONG” on it.
“Attention,” The agent spoke again, as two of the others placed themselves next to him while all the remaining agents made their way behind the players, guns in hand, making sure no one could leave. “Everyone must choose who they wish to play against in the time span of ten minutes. If one fails to make a pair in time, they will be eliminated. After everyone has chosen, please place yourself in a two-by-two line next to your rival, so you can be properly sarched. The rules will be explained afterwards.”
Number 269 stood still, while everyone hurried to find a rival. Turns out, she didn’t need to make up someone who would be willing to kill her, as she saw Number 368 proudly making his way to her. She smirked, “Ready for round two, I see.”
“It would be my joy to be the reason you’re dead.” He spat, the girl in front of him simply nodding, the pair walking towards the door, behind the other duos. Soon enough, everyone got properly searched, and they all managed to make their way inside the room.
It was dark, with black walls and a black floor. In the middle, being the only lit part of the room, was a white dashed line, and on the wall in front of them was a monitor reading the number fifteen – formatted as if to signal a time period. The agent who had spoken so far stood in front of the players, while the others walked up to a big box full of what looked like volleyballs.
“Attention, the rules will now be explained.” The agent spoke, “The game is Pong. You must throw the ball at your opponent, and grab it when it’s thrown back at you. If it falls, you’re eliminated. If the ball never falls in fifteen minutes, whoever is holding the ball last is eliminated. You must stand four feet from the line, as the agents will place you, and you mustn’t come any closer than three feet from it. If you do, you’ll be eliminated.”
The first pair to had been formed, Number 026 and Number 247, stepped up, one of the balls being handed to them. Once they got in the positions set by the agents, at exactly four feet from the dashed line each, one of the agents used the tablet, tapping on it, the timer starting.
The two hastily threw the ball at one-another, each of them catching it – though often with great struggle. For Number 269, the time was passing by way too slow, but she knew for the pair, it must have been quite different. Not enough time, that’s what got them. The fifteen minutes were up, Number 026 being left to hold the ball, their hands shaky, eyes fixed on the agents as if waiting for one to shoot. But that wasn’t the case. Instead, screams filled the room when the ball exploded in her hands, blood splattering all over the walls and floor, even getting all over Number 247’s face, her eyes shaky, lips parted – knowing damn well that could have been her.
Similarly, many had died the same way. Number 023, Number 301, Number 240… until Number 125. The ball was thrown too far off, and he wasn’t fast enough to catch it and, once it hit the floor, it exploded, right into his face, the rests of his brain scattering around the floor, a piece hitting his opponent, Number 105, on the cheek, who simply couldn’t handle it and turned around, throwing up.
Number 003, instead, accidentally stepped over the tree feet limit barely a minute into the game, and an agent shot him right in the head, much to his opponent’s, Number 058’s, pleasure. Some tried to run off from the explosion too, like Number 097, who received the same terrible fate as 003 did.
Finally, Number 269 and Number 368’s turn came. The two stepped up, led by the agents, and Number 368 was the one to be given the ball first before the timer started. 269 could feel her heart beating at a speed it surely wasn’t normal for it to, but a heart attack was the least of her concerns at the moment. 368 threw the ball, way far on the right, her having to throw herself on the floor in ortoge to catch it, getting up as fast as she could immediately after. There was no time to waste, after all.
Never had she been more glad to have picked up Volleyball in middle school.
She threw it back, way higher than his head was at, but he managed to grab it, only to throw it back immediately. He hadn’t thought of where properly though, as he threw it right at her, making it way too easy to catch it. And she threw it right back, though aiming far to his left, which required him to jump to get it.
And it went on and on, for what somehow felt both like ages and like way too little. How could time to by so slow and so fast at the same time?
It was at minute fourteen, however, when things took quite the turn. Seemingly, 269 must’ve hit 368’s head a bit too hard, considering he was way more tired than anyone else who had played earlier. And it showed. In an attempt to make a high throw, both as a result from his tiredness and from his poor planning of the throw – it having been too rushed, it turned out to be a high one, yes, but not a long one. Not long enough.
And the ball hit the ground, not far in front of him, exploding just like all the others. Number 269 covered her eyes, the sudden light bothering her eyes, but when she put her arms back down, she witnessed quite the scene.
The explosion hadn’t just killed him, but during a desperate attempt of coming closer to catch it again, his head flew off his body, the spinal cord remaining attached to his skull. His body laid headless on one side, while his head stayed on the side, a spinal cord so bloody you could barely see the actual bone coming from what was once his neck, his eyes having half melted from the heat already. Number 269 was quick to turn away, head facing downwards, walking fast towards where the winners had gathered. And only then, the realisation hit.
She was a winner.