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"Rules are simple. Last contestant standing wins."
You stood on the bottom of some escalators looking up at the men dressed completely in white. They didn't carry guns, only looked down at you, and 25 other people.
"The prize consists of more wealth you could ever dream of. Protection, and opportunities for a better life."
Someone stepped forward, a man. Older than you, his 50s maybe? "What exactly are we supposed to do!?"
You looked back up where the white clad men stood. Waiting for an answer.
"My boss expects a show, of sorts. The doors will be locked, boarded up from the outside. So will the windows. The game begins at the signal. Everything in this mall is free for you to use at your disposal."
A low murmuring started around you.
"They aren't really saying-"
"No, there's no way-"
The same man spoked up again. "You want us to fight to the death?!"
That's when your heart picked up. Thundering in your chest. No, no no no. You can't be serious?! You can't fight! You don't have it in you to kill people!
"Correct."
"And what happens if we refuse?! You can't just kill us all off! What kind of show is that?"
"Ohoho! We already have a troublemaker, boys!"
Michelangelo threw a leg up on the foot rest in front of him after leaning forward to pick up a remote, turning the volume up. He liked the trouble makers. They always stirred the group a bit more, made them more uneasy. "Anyone of you put money on'him?"
"Who is it?" Leonardo's voice muffled by the cigarette he was in the process of lighting.
"Contestant J."
"Nope. I haven't." Blowing the smoke out he went to stand behind the couch to watch the TV. "Raphael?"
The brute looked up from the scene unfolding between his legs. "Nah." Quickly turning his focus back down to the woman nuzzling her face into his crotch. "Ask Don."
"He left to get food. So if I kill his race horse, it's his fault." Mike chuckled as he got ready to press a button on the remote. The eldest sat down and leaned back, throwing a leg over the other.
"Give it a few more minutes, brother." He sipped his glass of whiskey with a dark grin on his face. "I want to see where this is going."
"My boss has vowed to compensate any and all loved ones you leave behind. Funeral, paper work, therapy etcetera will be taken care of by him."
"Answer my fucking question! What if we all refuse to play this 'game'?"
You saw how the man in white tilted his head up and to the side. Following his gaze you saw a camera. "Oh, my god... This is actually real."
The man in white turned his head back down after what looked like a silent conversation. "Any contestant who refuse to participate in the game will be eliminated."
A loud buzzing and blood curdling scream echoed in the building. You watched in horror as the old man doubled over, clawing at his neck. The group dispersed and moved from the now convulsing man on the floor. It felt like hours before he stopped screaming, stopped gurgling on his own blood and stilled. A robotic voice soon came from the speakers.
"Contestant J has been eliminated."
The man in white turned to watch all of you. "Any questions?"
You took him up on the offer and spoke up. "Why did you pick us?"
"You were all in the wrong place at the wrong time. My boss wants you all to know this is nothing personal. Any more questions?"
Silence.
"Thank you for your cooperation. The only rule is that you are not permitted to leave the arena. As mentioned, everything in here is free for you all to use. Last contestant standing wins."
He went silent again for only a minute or two. "My boss wants to wish you all good luck."
"What did I miss?" Donatello took his coat off and hung it up.
"One trouble maker. But that's it. The game started 20 minutes ago. Where the fuck have you been?" Leonardo started unpacking the food.
"Traffic. And I took a detour to the house to fetch my laptop and Father wanted to exchange some words."
The couch groaned under the heavy weight of Raphael as he sat down to join his brothers for dinner. "Who are you bettin' on, boys?"
" 'm bett'ng on Y!" The youngest exclaimed with a mouth full of food. The eldest rolled his eyes while stirring his noodles around, mixing an egg in.
"Of course you did. Why do you always bet on the pretty ones?" He blew on his food before taking a bite.
"Ain't it obvious, Leo? The dude practically think with his dick." Raph replied before taking a bite of his own food.
"Pretty ones look better when they're bloody." Mikey shrugged. "I'd rather spend my money on pretty things in red than on sweaty men."
Don hummed. "He's got a point."
You shook like a leaf as you looked at your opponent. She was around your age, maybe a little older. Covered in cuts, bruises and what looked like a dislocated shoulder.
"I'm not-... I'm not dying in here..." She hiccuped. Sounding so broken and tired.
"Listen we- we can figure something out! We don't have to-"
She screamed and lunched at you with a meat cleaver. You managed to duck away from her just in time and ran to find a weapon. Fuck fuck fuck how can she move like that with that arm!? Ducking into a sports store you grabbed the nearest item, a golf club and just in the nick of time you blocked her attack with it. She looked like a villain taken straight from a shitty slasher movie as she leaned over you.
"Just fucking DIE so I can LEAVE, you whore!" She spat at you.
Panting you tried to figure out what to do. You had to do something! That something happened to be pulling her dislocated arm by biting into her shirt. It threw her off her attack on you. Screaming like a banshee as you succeeded in getting her off you. Shoving her to the floor as she clutched her arm.
"Please don't!"
Mikey cheered and howled as he watched the contestant he'd bet money on swing what looked like a golf club down on her opponent over and over and over again.
"See! See! I fuckin' told you guys! Always. Bet. On. The. Pretty. Ones! They look best in red."
The two eldest brothers looked at each other and chuckled. "Fine, fine." Leonardo conceded as he got up. "Let's go, boys. We have a victor to congratulate."
"What? I- I was told I would receive money. More than I could ever dream of!" You couldn't believe the ones that had been watching you club someone to death were the four most powerful men in New York. The tallest of them bent down and grabbed your face roughly as he chuckled.
"Oh, sweet cheeks. We never specified how you would receive them. You, my darling, belong to us now."