Seven

Chapter 4- The Translation

Mario read and reread the words over and over again, but he couldn't make sense of what they could mean. Was this a clue of what was to come? Or was this simply some type of riddle?

And who had slipped this paper to? Was it his butler, Richard? Or could it have been Carmen? She's the only one of the group who knew any Latin. Could she have known more than she led the others to believe? And if she did, why would she waste her time helping the other players? Only one could win the prize money.

Whatever the purpose of this list, Mario intended to prepare himself for anything. Number one on the list was Find. He knew that the first game involved searching for clues. Which meant that game two would have something to do with speaking. But he had no idea what to think about the rest of them. Accept. Accept what? Acknowledge. Again, what was he to acknowledge? Is that what the clues were supposed to lead him to?

The last, Pay...

Suddenly, the pieces started to come together in Mario's head. He knew exactly what the games were about.

Exposing them, and them making them pay.

This Dr. Vincent must've have somehow found out about Soren. Mario knew it was only a matter of time before someone did, he just thought he'd have a little more time. He was okay with whatever the consequences were. In his mind, his life was over the day he was locked up in the Georgia State Penitentiary for a crime he didn't even commit.

And if he was here for that, that meant the others were hiding something as well. Maybe it was something even worse than what he was hiding? The more Mario thought about it, the more it seemed as if these weren't the type of games anyone was meant to win. The prize money was just a reason to participate.

Mario looked around the room, knowing now was the time to start plotting an escape if necessary. When things started getting too weird for him, Mario had no problem just throwing in the towel. After all, he had lived his whole life without money. He was certain he could continue to live without it.

He walked over to the only window in the room and looked out. He was on the second floor, but it wasn't very far to the ground. Probably only twelve feet or so. He could jump if he had to, and make a run for it through the shrubbery that lined the long, winding driveway. He took a few seconds to map out his exact exit route, the one that would bring him out to the highway the fastest. From there, he was certain he could make it to the nearest convenience store or hotel. He could call one of his sisters, tell them what happened and...

Wait...

Mario knew no one would believe his story. He was six feet, four inches tall and weighed two hundred and twenty pounds (195cm/99kg). No one could forcefully make Mario Banks do a damn thing. As Mario recalled his journey here though, he realized that's exactly what happened. He was forced to come here, though he couldn't figure out how. He remembered feeling the strange powers of persuasion when he first met Richard; the feeling that overcame him and led him to the car that eventually brought him here.

And because no one would believe that story, Mario knew he would be on his own. Still, even if he had to hitchhike back to Atlanta, he knew it would be better than staying here with these strange people and their creepy grins.

Mario nearly startled out of his skin when there was a light tap on his door.

"Come in," he called out.

The door slowly creaked open to reveal Richard with a smile that Mario could only compare to Jack Nicholson in The Shining. His skin was so pale, it made his stained teeth look even more yellow. His eyes were dark, soulless pits. Mario didn't like the way it made him feel when he made eye contact, so he avoided it at all costs.

"Mr. Banks, you have exactly one hour to prepare for the first game. I have placed your uniform in your wardrobe, along with appropriate shoes. If you need anything else, I'm just outside your door."

"Thank you," Mario replied quietly, with a nod.

After the door closed, Mario went over to the wardrobe and opened it up. Inside was a solid white jumpsuit with a zipper in front. There was a small pocket on the upper left corner that had his player number, 6.

Mario took the suit out and held it in front of him, furrowing his brows in confusion. Why were they wearing something like this to search for clues? Would this be the attire for the remainder of the games too?

Mario couldn't help noticing it resembled the uniforms at the prison, only white instead of Orange. He even had his prisoner number stamped on the upper left side, along with the back. Mario turned the suit around and sure enough, the number 6 was stamped on the back, just like a prison uniform.

A strange feeling began to settle in the pit of Mario's stomach. These things were adding up to something he didn't quite trust, though nothing bad had happened so far.

Mario tossed the uniform on the bed and plopped down next to it, blowing out a long, exhausted breath. He had already told himself that he would prepare for anything. Now, he had to expect anything too. Nothing was as it seemed and Mario didn't plan to stick around long enough to figure it all out. After the first game was over, he would find the right time to make a run for it. It wasn't worth a million dollars if he had to endure a nightmare to get it.

He felt he had already had to endure enough nightmares for a lifetime.

So Mario spent the next forty minutes calculating what his next moves would be. He wouldn't tell anyone else of his plans. He would move quietly, in secret. By the time anyone found out he was missing, he'd be long gone from this place.

Mario quickly changed into his jumpsuit and headed down to the foyer where the players had been instructed to meet for the first game. Only Carmen was there waiting, standing in front of one of the monitors, staring straight ahead as if lost in thought.

Mario wanted to ask her about the note that was slid under his door earlier, but since he couldn't be sure it was from Carmen, he decided not to say anything. Besides, he needed to keep his interaction to a minimum if he was to escape this place undetected. So, he stood back against the wall quietly, hoping none of the other players wanted to talk.

Only minutes later, the others began making their way down the staircase, talking and laughing together like this was a luxury vacation and they were living their best lives. How could none of them see the writing on the wall, Mario thought to himself. Surely, they had to at least be a bit uncomfortable about the strange staff. Yet no one questioned it. At least, not out loud.

"Let's get this party started!" Jackson cheered.

Mario scoffed and rolled his eyes. He liked Jackson least of everyone, just because of his pretentious arrogance. He wasn't a bad looking guy, but Mario had only been around him for a little while and already found him obnoxious.

Brandi let out a flirty laugh as she came down the stairs next to Damon. Mario smirked to himself as he thought about the group's odds if this were a horror movie. Usually, the pretty, rich girl is among the first to die. The movie star hunk would probably be second. But then Mario frowned when he remembered the odds black people had in horror movies. He didn't know why Hollywood portrayed black people the way they did. In real life, most would run at any sign of danger. There would be no hesitation, no tripping, no going back, no trying to be the hero.  Every black person he knew, including himself, would run and never look back- meaning, in reality, they would more than likely survive.

That was exactly Mario's plan tonight. Run. Don't look back. Don't be the hero. These people meant nothing to him. He felt no sense of responsibility or remorse for them. If they were all here to face their truths, theirs were more than likely just as bad as his, if not worse.

"So what do you think we're up against," player 7, who was ironically called Nine, asked Mario when he came to stand next to him.

"I know as much as you know," Mario answered curtly.

"You don't have a weird feeling about all of this?" Nine asked.

Mario looked at him, c*****g an eyebrow.

"You know, like...maybe we're all about to be hacked into little pieces by these weird ass goblin people?" he went on.

Mario didn't answer, but he knew he must've been right about his suspicions since other people were thinking this way. He didn't know what the staff was up to or why they looked so strange. He didn't want to ask questions either, he just wanted to get out.

"I'm getting a weird vibe, as my kids like to say," Kelly said, coming to stand on the other side of Nine. "These people...there's something off here. And the fact that none of us can remember how we got here..."

While Kelly and Nine went on discussing their thoughts, Mario kept his mind on his plans to escape as soon as he saw a chance. He couldn't discuss his thoughts or his plans with others since if everyone decided to make a run for it at once, most of them would probably be stopped. Mario wanted to go at it alone and leave the others to figure it out for themselves. As far as he was concerned, it was every man, or woman, for themselves.

Everyone went silent when the monitors turned on and the silhouetted Dr. Vincent appeared once again.

"Welcome to Ludos Veritatis. While most of you haven't figured out your first clue, I understand that one of you did, very quickly."

Everyone looked to Carmen while she only kept her head down. Mario had a feeling it was Carmen who slid the paper under his door with the translated clue.

"However, it was a grave error to share the answer to that clue with other players," Dr. Vincent went on.

Mario's eyes widened in surprise. Was Carmen about to be eliminated because she helped him? And better yet, what did being eliminated mean? Do you just go home or does something worse happen?

"I thought you said we weren't in competition with one another," Damon says.

"The video is per-recorded. He can't hear you," Winston said, towering behind them.

Something about the sound of his voice sent a chill up Mario's spine. It was dark and eerie, like in a horror film when you know someone is about to be hunted down and murdered.

"You were each supplied with a rule book in your chamber," Dr. Vincent said.

Mario furrowed his brows. He didn't remember seeing a rule book.

"In that rule book, you would have read that players are not allowed to assist another player during the games. You would have also read that failure to comply to the rules within would result in immediate elimination from the games."

"This is starting to sound more and more like Squid Game," Jackson whispered to Brandi.

"We haven't even started yet," Brandi giggled. "Don't get all scared now."

Jackson swallowed hard, is hands visibly shook at his sides. He was nervous. Which made Mario nervous. He knew this place had a weird, creepy vibe, but should he fear for his life? Was there something sick and twisted going on here, or was he simply overthinking things?

"Play 3," Dr. Vincent said in a low, bellowing voice. "Step forward."

The color drained from Jackson's face as everyone seemed to form a perfect circle around him.

Jackson took a step forward and slowly raised his head to face the monitor.  The room was deathly silent; so silent, you could hear Jackson's rapid, shallow breathing.

"You have violated the rules of the game and have therefore been eliminated," Dr. Vincent said.

Mario was surprised. He didn't expect Jackson to be the one to share the translation with him at all. It made him wonder if those Jackson had helped would also be eliminated. If so, Mario was about to found out what fate awaited him.

Mario suddenly felt the urge to run, but the same power that had come over him before, the one that lured him into the car with Richard, seemed to keep him rooted in place. So he stood there, unable to move or speak, like he was a prisoner inside his own body, helpless to defend himself against what was to come.