Objective: Going Underground(And Nuggets)

Sirius and Zayd strolled through the bustling city streets, their conversation flowing effortlessly. Sirius had tied his long, curly hair into a ponytail, leaving his signature red bang to cascade over one eye.

"So, what made you change your mind?" Zayd asked, glancing over at him.

Sirius shrugged. "Honestly, you convinced me to get out more. All I do is work and hit the gym."

Zayd raised an eyebrow. "Don't you also get your hair done?"

"I get it cut every now and then. Why?" Sirius asked, curious.

"You've got such a weird hairstyle. Curly long hair with one straight, red-dyed bang," Zayd remarked.

Sirius smirked. "My hair isn't dyed."

Zayd stopped, staring at him in disbelief. "What? How does that even work genetically? I'm no biologist, but shouldn't only your dominant trait show up? Clearly, your dominant trait is the black curly hair."

"It's called codominance," Sirius explained casually.

"But wouldn't that mean your hair would be a mix of red and black, not just one straight red bang?" Zayd pressed.

Sirius sighed. "Look, I'm not about to dive into the complexities of my genetics. We've got to focus on getting to the underworld."

Zayd chuckled. "Never been there. All I know is it's the countryside of the city."

"There are elevators down, but the ride takes like two hours," Sirius said.

"You'd think with how far humanity has come, we'd have teleporters or something," Zayd mused.

"We live in a desolate future," Sirius replied. "Innovation isn't the issue; it's the lack of resources and creative minds. The high-tech stuff is reserved for the elite in Cloud Hills."

"Cloud Hills, like Beverly Hills but an actual civilization?" Zayd asked, impressed.

"I'm surprised you know what Beverly Hills is," Sirius remarked.

"I read textbooks," Zayd replied with a grin.

After a few more minutes of conversation, they found themselves at the back of an extremely long line stretching several meters.

"Damn," Zayd muttered.

"I wish I could fast pass this line," Sirius sighed.

"Oh, but you can!" a voice interjected.

Startled, they turned to see a short man in a suit and top hat standing behind them.

"Who are you?" Sirius asked, wary.

"I am Marcus! You're here for the Dynamite Game, right?" the man asked cheerily.

"How'd you know?" Sirius asked, narrowing his eyes.

"You two don't look like you belong in the underworld unless it's for the Dynamite Game," Marcus explained.

"Yeah, you mentioned something about a fast pass?" Sirius prompted.

"Yes! The host has spent millions to ensure participants get to the game quickly. You can skip the line and use the newly built speedvator!" Marcus announced proudly.

"Speedvator? That's an unserious name," Zayd commented, laughing.

"It's courtesy of the host," Marcus said with a smile.

"Alright, we just follow you?" Sirius confirmed.

"Exactly! This way, gentlemen," Marcus said, leading them away from the line. After a short walk, they arrived at a gleaming, golden elevator.

"It's even gold!" Zayd exclaimed, admiring it.

Sirius chuckled. "It looks like a luxurious special toilet."

Marcus smiled. "You could say that. Step inside, gentlemen!"

The three entered the elevator, finding seats reminiscent of those on a drop tower ride.

"Oh hell no," Sirius muttered, eyeing the setup.

"Are you backing down, Mr. Ariti?" Marcus asked.

"No," Sirius said, taking a seat reluctantly. "But why is it like this?"

"Optimal safety," Marcus assured him.

"Doesn't look optimal or safe," Sirius retorted.

"It's the fastest way down! A two-hour ride turns into two minutes!" Marcus explained.

"That sounds dangerously unsafe," Sirius said, still skeptical.

Zayd was already strapped in, grinning. "I've never been in one of these!"

Marcus buckled himself in. "It'll be a fun first experience!"

Sighing, Sirius secured himself as well. "To surviving, S.H.," Zayd toasted.

"I've survived worse," Sirius replied.

The elevator door slammed shut, and a screen dropped down, initiating a countdown.

"3."

Zayd squirmed. "Hey, I kinda need to pee."

"2."

Sirius turned. "What?"

"1."

"Yeah, I—" Zayd's sentence was cut off as the elevator plummeted at high speed. His scream echoed through the shaft as they rocketed downward.

Almost in a flash, the elevator screeched to a halt, and the door slid open. Sirius glanced over at Zayd, who was slouched in his seat, looking half-dead.

"You should've heeded the countdown," Sirius remarked dryly as he and Marcus unbuckled and stood up.

Zayd groaned, lifting his head. "How can you be so indifferent? You're completely unfazed!"

Sirius shrugged. "Don't know."

Marcus chuckled. "Most people's hearts would be racing after that! You must be used to this kind of stuff!"

"I guess I am..." Sirius muttered.

Zayd dragged himself out of his seat, and the group stepped out of the elevator. They found themselves in a vast underground expanse. The ceiling stretched miles high, illuminated by bright lights that mimicked daylight. The landscape was dotted with green hills, small wooden buildings, and sprawling grass fields.

"This looks... boring," Zayd commented, unimpressed.

"It's farmland. What did you expect?" Sirius replied.

"A beautiful paradise full of organic life! This just looks like an underground warehouse, and it smells like crap," Zayd complained, wrinkling his nose.

A sleek limousine pulled up to them, honking loudly.

"This way, players!" Marcus gestured, hopping into the passenger seat.

Sirius sighed. "Well, at least we won't have to smell all of that on the way to the game." He and Zayd climbed into the limousine, which promptly took off.

Marcus turned to them. "Alright, we're just one step away from the game!"

"Y'all got food there?" Zayd asked, perking up.

"Chick-fil-A!" Marcus announced proudly.

"Ew, it's probably just gonna be a bunch of chicken nuggets," Zayd muttered, unimpressed.

Sirius stared out the window, lost in thought. I can't stop thinking about it. How am I alive?

A few minutes later, Zayd noticed Sirius's distant expression. "Yo, S.H.! Something wrong?"

Sirius shook his head. "Nothing, nothing at all."

"You're looking kinda worn out, dude," Zayd observed.

"I'm just stressed about this whole game, that's it," Sirius replied, trying to dismiss the concern.

"Just hope we don't die or something! That's the worst that can happen!" Zayd said with a grin.

"Yeah," Sirius murmured, his mind elsewhere.

The limousine rolled to a stop, and Marcus stepped out. "We have arrived!"

Zayd followed him out, taking in the massive theater in the distance. The structure spanned dozens of acres and reached skyward, its facade adorned with a large cat-head symbol that resembled the plush Tetsuya had.

"This is the building for the Dynamite Game!" Marcus announced with a flourish.

"A theater, huh?" Sirius remarked, eyeing the colossal structure.

Marcus nodded. "The Dynamite Game is heavily theater-themed."

"What are the rules of this game?" Sirius asked.

"The game master will explain everything! Follow me this way!" Marcus led them toward the theater.

As they approached the front door, Marcus continued, "All of this was newly built. This city-sized theater even extends further underground. It took three years to complete."

Sirius's thoughts raced. So some kid did all this in three years? What kind of time and money did he have? Didn't he just steal the money recently?

Marcus held the door open. "Gentlemen, after you."

Sirius and Zayd stepped inside, their eyes widening at the sight. The interior was grand and expansive, with posters of the Dynamite Game plastered on the walls. Cat-themed decorations were everywhere, and the room buzzed with activity as dozens of people mingled. Tables overflowed with Chick-fil-A nuggets, chocolate chip cookies, and fresh fruit. Signs pointed to various locations: sleeping quarters, a registration desk, and a large vault door labeled "Act 1, Scene 1." Speakers and large TVs dotted the corners of the room, adding to the immersive atmosphere.

Marcus waved a hand as he headed out the door. "Make yourselves comfortable, boys! And don't forget to register, or you'll be kicked out tomorrow!"

Sirius gave a small nod. "Right."

Zayd, already making his way toward the food tables, snorted. "So I was right. They really did just give us the crappy Chick-fil-A chicken nuggets." He picked up a nugget with a grimace as Sirius followed him.

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "What's your problem with Chick-fil-A?"

"They're crappy! They're pretty much ketchup sponges!" Zayd retorted, holding up the nugget like it was a crime.

"Isn't that like the majority of chicken nuggets?" Sirius asked, his tone skeptical.

"At least other chicken nuggets have a decent taste, so they don't just taste like ketchup with mystery meat! Chick-fil-A nuggets taste like toilet paper with chicken seasoning on it," Zayd huffed.

"It's better than the highly processed stuff from McDonald's or Burger King," Sirius countered.

Zayd's eyes widened in disbelief. "What?! Are you out of your mind? McDonald's and Burger King nuggets are leagues better! They've got the perfect blend of bread and chicken!"

Sirius gave a slight nod. "I kind of get that. At least McDonald's nuggets all look the same."

"Exactly!" Zayd exclaimed. "Chick-fil-A's nuggets are like a lottery—sometimes you get a giant crumb of just bread, and it's baffling!"

Sirius added, "And for people with bad teeth, biting into those poorly made ones with hard bread can be a nightmare."

Zayd glanced at him. "Do you have bad teeth?"

"I used to. Had braces all through high school," Sirius admitted.

As Zayd turned, he bumped into a guy holding a plate piled high with nuggets.

"Oh, sorry—"

The guy turned, revealing his mouth full of nuggets. He grinned. "I was hopin' you'd bump inta me! Heard everythin' ya said, and you're dead wrong!" Alex declared, spraying a few crumbs as he spoke.

"Gross!" Zayd recoiled, wiping his face. "I stand by my reasoning!"

Alex shook his head, chewing vigorously. "Chick-fil-A nuggets are the healthiest fast food nuggets you can get! Yeah, they're all different, some better than others, but that's proof they're hand-made! Other places—"

"Even so," Zayd interrupted, "they either have too much bread or not enough! Plus, Chick-fil-A's chicken has a weird taste!"

Alex glared. "Let me finish! Maybe it tastes weird to you 'cause it ain't the processed slop you usually eat and call 'chicken'!"

Zayd rolled his eyes. "Maybe they should start processing it. At least it'd taste better and fix their terrible breading ratio!"

Alex crossed his arms. "Define 'too much bread.' Nothing tops Popeyes for over-breading!"

"Leave Popeyes out of this! They've got amazingly underrated food!" Zayd shot back, defensive.

Alex smirked. "Oh, please! Anytime my ma and I went to Popeyes, she'd say, 'If you want a sandwich, just order their tenders.'"

"The bread is what gives it flavor! Way more than Chick-fil-A could ever manage!" Zayd insisted.

Alex leaned in. "If I ever tried going to Popeyes, my ma would blow up the street to stop me. It's an unhealthy lifestyle you've got."

Zayd shook his head, exasperated. "Your accent is killing me."

Sirius crossed his arms, his expression one of growing irritation. "Okay, this is getting ridiculous." He extended a hand towards the man standing before him. "Name's Sirius. And this here is Zayd."

The man, who looked as if he'd seen his fair share of scrapes, took Sirius's hand with a firm grip. "Alexandah Locke. I work heah," he said, his accent coloring his words with a sharp edge.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Is that so? What exactly do you do here?"

Before Alex could respond, Zayd interjected with a smirk. "He definitely caters..."

Alex shot Zayd a look, but his lips curled into a grin. "Nah, I'm a bodyguard. For the main man himself."

"Wait, so why are you out here?" Sirius tilted his head, clearly puzzled.

"Even bodyguards get hungry on the job," Alex shrugged nonchalantly.

Sirius's gaze drifted over Alex, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I can tell from your markings—you're a syntharc."

Alex chuckled, the sound deep and throaty. "Bare minimum, I hahdly count as one."

"Better one than not," Sirius remarked, his tone light but thoughtful.

"Have you guys registered yet?" Alex asked, his tone shifting to one of casual seriousness. "Ya need to regista if you wanna pahticipate in the game."

"Right," Sirius replied, glancing at Zayd. "We need to do that."

Alex pointed toward a desk in the distance. "Just ovah there. Nice meetin' ya."

With a nod of thanks, Sirius and Zayd made their way toward the registration desk.

"I thought there'd be a line," Sirius murmured as they approached.

Zayd shrugged. "Maybe we're late to the party."

At the desk, a woman greeted them with a bright smile. "Hello! I'm assuming you're here to sign up for the dynamite game!"

"Yeah," Zayd confirmed.

The woman pulled out a blue container. "Please place all weapons and devices in here. If you don't, we'll check before the game starts, and any contraband will disqualify you."

Sirius sighed under his breath. Dammit. He dropped a pistol, a knife, and his phone into the container.

Zayd's eyes widened. "Woah! You've got a gun?"

"I legally carry," Sirius replied without much enthusiasm.

Zayd followed suit, depositing his phone.

"Good," the woman continued, sliding two sheets of paper and pens toward them. "Now, sign these contracts."

Zayd immediately scribbled his name down without a second thought.

Sirius frowned. "You're not even going to read it?"

"Most contracts are the same," Zayd said, shrugging.

Sirius sighed, then followed suit. "Sometimes, reading the fine print can save your life," he muttered as he signed.

Zayd chuckled. "Dude, you just did the same thing!"

"I have my reasons," Sirius retorted.

The woman took the papers, glancing over them before entering data into her computer. She then handed each of them a wristband resembling a sleek Fitbit. "Put these on."

Sirius eyed the device warily. "What are these for?"

"The game master will explain tomorrow," she replied curtly.

Sirius and Zayd slipped the wristbands on, the fit uncomfortably snug.

"Game master this, game master that," Sirius grumbled. "The buildup better pay off."

Zayd fiddled with his wristband, struggling to remove it. "These things fasten crazy tight! I can't get it off!"

Sirius smirked grimly. "We definitely signed up for a death game. Saw it coming a mile away and still went through with it."

"Worst case scenario," Zayd speculated, "it's one of those games where only one person survives. I'll probably end up fighting you in the end!"

Sirius rolled his eyes. "First of all, isn't the last man standing trope in like 95% of death games? Second, unless we're secretly in some crappy TV show, or you're freaking Batman, there's no way a janitor like you beats a security guard like me."

Zayd laughed nervously. "I know... but what if we are—"

"Don't even say it," Sirius cut him off, shaking his head.

"Okay, okay. What now?" Zayd asked.

Sirius glanced around. "There's a sleeping quarter. Let's head there."

"Yeah, okay," Zayd agreed, and the two of them set off toward their destination.

In a dimly lit room, surrounded by rows upon rows of monitors, Tetsuya sat in front of a sprawling console, his fingers moving with calculated precision across the keys. His eyes flicked from one screen to the next, analyzing every shift in movement, every flicker of light. Behind him, the soft hum of an elevator door opening interrupted the quiet.

Out of the elevator stepped Alex, a large plate of chocolate chip cookies and fruits in his hands. He looked utterly content as he made his way into the room, the sweet scent of baked goods and fresh fruit filling the air.

Tetsuya glanced over his shoulder, his lips curling slightly. "I see you're enjoying the food."

Alex, grinning wide, settled into a chair, placing the plate down in front of him. "Ah, definitely, boss. Cookies an' fruits? Perfect way to wash down some chicken nuggets."

Tetsuya's brow furrowed, but he didn't let his expression falter. "I must apologize for the lack of drinks. An oversight on my part."

Alex waved a dismissive hand. "How much would it set ya back to at least get some sweet tea?"

"Budget is hardly a concern," Tetsuya replied, his voice even, almost too calm. "I have thousands to spare. It was merely... a lapse in attention."

Alex chuckled, a playful glint in his eyes. "Drinks are like, the second thing aftah food, man!"

Tetsuya's lips tightened just slightly. "Excitement got the better of me. Besides, it was my brother's choice of catering."

From the far corner of the room, a figure shifted in the shadows, a masked and hooded man in black, silent until now. He stood, moving with an easy grace towards Alex.

The masked man spoke, his voice casual and unbothered. "Did I mess up the orders? My bad, man!"

Alex raised an eyebrow and smirked. "So you're the brothah."

The man tilted his head slightly, pulling back the hood to reveal a sharp, calculating face. "Yeah, name's Ikiru. Want me to get you some drinks? Can't have you parched on my watch."

Alex's smile widened. "That'd be awesome! Mouth's dry as a desert."

Ikiru pulled out his phone with fluid motion, his eyes scanning the screen as he began typing. "On it."

Tetsuya's gaze returned to Alex, narrowing in mild curiosity. "Alex, why has your accent thickened? When we first spoke, it was barely noticeable."

Alex smirked, leaning back in his chair. "I try for what folks call the 'true American' accent in business. Makes people take me more seriously if I sound like them, ya know?"

Tetsuya considered this for a moment, then nodded, his tone even. "I wouldn't have judged. I'm from Japan, after all."

Alex nodded knowingly. "So you can speak Japanese an' all that?"

"Indeed," Tetsuya responded, his gaze flitting back to the monitors. "Anyway, we've amassed over five hundred participants. This will be... quite the spectacle."

Alex's expression shifted slightly, a trace of genuine curiosity breaking through his usual laid-back demeanor. "I gotta ask, what does a guy like you get outta this?"

Tetsuya's smile didn't reach his eyes as he spoke, his voice soft yet chillingly precise. "It grants me a front-row seat to humanity's response to unrelenting tragedy. It's endlessly satisfying to observe how those steeped in despair cling to slivers of hope. My aim? To reveal how hope can sustain even in the bleakest of circumstances."

His words hung in the air, unsettling in their calm, as if each one was deliberately calculated for maximum impact.

Alex's face twisted into a mixture of amusement and mild disbelief. "What even is this game?"

Tetsuya's eyes shifted, his expression unreadable. "You'll find out tomorrow. For now, get some rest."