The Cage- Challenge Middle-Aged Man

From Create Your Own Story

You shakily point your finger at the Middle-Aged Man.

"Alright! Up and at 'em, yuppie scum!"

White collar working stiff. He's been feeling the effects of the recession differently than the people who generally hate him the most; they've been laid off, he's been picking up the slack they used to carry at the office for no additional pay (and a benefits cut). Bad back. Two kids. Divorced.

...how did you know that?

"Popularity contest," the man announces, after rising to his feet and then staring at them for a moment.

"LAAAAAAME!" The Speaker makes a jerk-off motion with his hand while rolling his eyes. "Come on, guys. Do you know what this means? This means I'm gonna be the only one getting my hands dirty tonight. At least directly. Well, whatever. One of you dies, one of you gets to make a few enemies."

The Speaker walks off to the left of the front of the cage. You can hear his footsteps just fine - great acoustics, maybe? - he stops after a short distance. You hear metal scrape against concrete, and he starts walking back.

He walks back in front of the cage, carrying two unreasonably large and thick sets of manacles, with no apparent strain or effort. He drops them on the ground, and your hands shoot to your face as you feel the impact behind your eyes.

GREAT acoustics.

"Contestants, please approach the bars."

You take a moment to consider what those words mean as your language center reboots itself. By the time it does, the Middle-Aged Man is speaking:

"I just want you all to know... if you vote for me, I won't hold it against you."

The Speaker bursts into laughter. "Ha ha! Wow! Oh, man. That's a knee slapper." He slaps his knee. "That's the worst fucking campaign speech I've ever heard. Way to win friends and influence people, Ward. Now get the fuck over here."

He hesitates.

"YOU. HERE. NOW."

The Middle-Aged Man practically propels himself forward. Wait, didn't the Speaker do the same thing to Brandon? He grabs Ward by his wrist and spins him around, pulling both of his arms outside the cage. He secures the manacles with no apparent strain. The old man stands ramrod-straight, his back against the bars, eyes locked forward. Looks like it's about to be your turn.

"YOU."

Your eyes lock on to the Speaker's. Oh God, he's looking at you - you HATE it when he looks at you - can't look away -

"HERE."

Towards him is your future. As surely as a rock falls to the ground, you are going to end up face-to-face with The Speaker. That's just where you are going. You start to place one foot forward as you anticipate his next command...

"NOW."

...and JOG the remaining five feet.

He grabs your wrist and spins you around. You feel the iron wrap around your wrists. After a shake or two to make sure they're secure, he drops them, and their weight pulls you straight to the floor. Holy SHIT, these things are heavy... those two must be really strong to have no problems with them. You don't know what your chances are like right now, but you've got a feeling they're better than they would have been if you had to fight this guy. DAMN good thing you challenged him and not the other way around.

"Will the first Cage Congress please come to order! Everyone in the cage who isn't shackled to prison bars gets to vote on which one of these two gets baked. Majority wins. In the event of a tie, I release them and they fight it out. In the event that no one votes, they both fry. Hey, YOU!"

The Sorority Girl jerks her head up. She has been bleeding out of her eyes. She was not wearing red mascara.

"Out of the corner, baby. You get to cast the first vote. That means that if you don't vote, no one does, and these two both get a tan."

More blood. She's not looking at you. Her eyes well up with blood as she raises her finger towards the old man and begins sobbing uncontrollably.

"The first vote is cast, and the nice guy falls into last! Everyone else, just vote whenever you feel like it."

They all vote for the other guy. Spread the guilt around. Spread it thin. It doesn't matter, but it does. You don't get to vote.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner! Alright, pops, I'm gonna do you the courtesy of allowing you to choose how you die. Either you let the sun do it later, or I get it over with right now. Take your pick."

"Get it over with, you piece of shit." If he's gonna go down, he might as well have his middle finger up while it's happening. One last "fuck you." Now it's a good death.

The Speaker shrugs. "Will do." He grabs the doomed man's head with one hand from behind and pounds it into the concrete. Ligaments rip, bones snap, and metal bangs in a single sound. The human body is not supposed to bend like that.

You look away and clench your eyes shut as The Speaker slams his foot down on the man's head. Then again, and you hear bone give. Again, wetter this time. CRUNCH. One more for good measure.

You don't want to look up. Footsteps, coming towards you. Keys jingling. Unlock. Freedom. You still don't want to look at the body.

"Enjoy your stay in the winner's circle, you undeserving piece of shit. I really, really hope you don't make it out of here alive. Now while you're not doing anything important, you mind tagging tomorrow's challenger? I promise, I'll leave you all alone for the rest of the night if you do me that one little favor."

Make the Speaker go away? Even for a little while? Sounds good, but it might make you an enemy. It's possible that the noblest man in here just died. But still...


Do you Tag:

Current Status

  • Shaking
  • Safe, for now
  • Still Thirsty

Inside the Cage

  • You (Winner's Circle)
  • Brandon
  • Teenage Boy
  • Mrs. Baker (Winner's Circle)
  • Girl in Sorority Shirt
  • Five Coffins

Outside the Cage

  • The Speaker
  • Two sets of manacles
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