reapsody | Apr. 7th, 2018

#TRIAL

PLAYERS REMAINING: 27

Ten minutes before noon, a voice will suddenly ring out over the city, booming so loudly that it must be coming from some sort of loudspeaker even though none are visible. The Host has a message for everyone.

"Hey, Players, it's time for the actual seeking part of this hide and seek baby bullshit. Get your collective asses to the trial site, chop chop, I haven’t got all fucking day. The way there's even written down for you idiots. Go."

True to the Host's words, there are helpful signs leading to where the trial is taking place. Everyone is expected to arrive by 12:00, and any stragglers will find themselves forced to enter the building that may be familiar to some of the players. As soon as the last person enters, the doors are slammed shut and locked. Mood music starts up once more.

Behind the cash register of the fully stocked restaurant is the Host, wearing a McDonald's uniform and name tag. Should you peer over the counter, it becomes obvious that he is standing on a box. His usual look of annoyed boredom makes him look perfectly at home as a minimum wage employee. Once everyone is settled, he will make an announcement.

"Alright, let's make this shit show official. You have nine hours to find who you think is the Reaper and vote. Fail, and face erasure."

When he finishes speaking, everyone will be hit with a sudden burning sensation on their right hand. On their palm they will find a counter etched into their skin with the seconds ticking down.