KHAN. Calm, intelligent, blank-faced Khan. What was he doing? I stumbled behind Chi and Yaz in the hallway and peered over their shoulders to see Khan.

And Demo.

His arm snaked around her gauzed-wrapped middle, clutching her to the front of his body from behind. A weird circular blade rested at her throat, a thin stream of red leaking from the tip.

This girl really couldn't catch a break.

"Let m-m-me go." Her feminine wails bounced off the wooden walls, as paper-thin blood trails dripped from the ugly gashes on her tanned cheek and shoulder blade.

Khan dug the metal into her collarbone, rousing a whiny whimper from her throat. "Get Gmie out here."

Demo trembled, cheeks sticky with wetness. "I c-can't—can't..." Globs of murky brown snot oozed from her nose, slipping into her mouth with every sharp pant. "P-please."

"Demo." The way Khan said her name was like a gentle breeze — that soft wind that happens right before a hurricane hits. "What am I known for?"

"Huh?" she asked, looking confused.

"I'll repeat it," Khan said softly, bringing the edge of the knife a little closer to her neck. "What am I know for?" He said the words like he was explaining something to a child.

"I d-don't kn—UGK." Demo choked on her words, body convulsing as Khan dug his fingers into her injured belly, assaulting her healing knife wound. The once white gauzes turned red under his harsh fingertips.

"I'm fucking smart," Khan whispered against her cheek, tone coming out dark and sultry. "So, don't speak to me like the dense, uneducated peons that you usually deal with. You're the only one who can get that bony bitch out of her room, so do it." Those once gooey eyes mutated into dusky, toxic pools, face morphing into stone.

"Pl-please don't make me," Demo whispered through her tears. "P-please."

I wrinkled my face, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. Khan never did anything without a plan and a purpose, but why did he want Gmie? I didn't understand anything, but my instincts told me to just support him and go with it.

Khan mushed his cheek against hers, using the tip of his tongue to lick her jaw. "Tears. They're nothing but oil, water, and mucus. Fickle things really. They mean nothing. They garner no sympathy from me."

"K-khan — plea-please," she stuttered, shivering.

"You're pissing me off, Demo, and I don't like to be pissed off. I find it a waste of time and energy." He skimmed the circular blade across her chest, causing a thin incision. She sobbed. "So, I would prefer you just do what I ask, and not make me ruin my nice clothes by slitting your throat."

"Please—"

"Did you know that you have four jugular veins in your neck?" His voice came out calming but rough at the same time, tightening his hand on the handle of the knife. "And this blade will cut through all of them before you can shed your next tear. It'll be a slow painful death."

The last part came out so soft that it was almost a whisper. The eeriness of it sent shivers down my chest.

Demo whimpered. "N-no...p-please no.."

"First, you'll feel an excruciating sting as the sharp blade severs your clammy flesh. Instantly, you'll feel the warmth of your putrid blood pouring down your neck and chest. It'll feel unreal at first, almost like you're stuck in a dream," Khan said into her ear. "But eventually, you'll choke which will bring you back to reality, and the air coming into your lungs will cease."

Intense dread formed on Demo's face as her mouth quivered, trying to speak, but nothing came out.

"Your first instinct will be to try to stop the blood flow with your hands, but you'll fail," Khan said in a husky manner. "Your blood will shoot out of your wound faster than you can hold it in — spewing through your fingers as you cough and gargle. Your adrenaline will spike from the fear of death, and your heart will feel like it's consuming your body. You'll become frantic and lightheaded from the blood loss, as your pathetic existence flashes before your eyes. You'll probably think of your childhood — happy memories but in retrospect, it was shitty, and even while dying you'll lie to yourself. Convince yourself that your life was actually worth something, but it really wasn't. And as you slowly succumb to your wounds, dying a worthless death on the floor of this hallway, no one will care because you're nothing. Your time on this earth meant nothing. The fly that I killed yesterday matters more." He pulled her closer. "Do you want to die that worthless death? Do you want that to be your miserable fate?"

Demo sniffled, trembling. "N-no."

"Then call her out," Khan said, jerking her back. "You have ten seconds."

Demo hiccupped, wiggling. "Gmie! P-please come..."

"Five," Khan said in a monotone voice, metal inching closer to her jugular.

"Gmie." The scream that poured from her mouth was one of the loudest I've ever heard. Scream queens had nothing on her.

A door cracked open a moment later, and Gmie wheeled herself out in a shiny white wheelchair, looking like she just survived a car crash. Thick bandages lined most of her body, covering her like a spotty mummy while some of her limbs were wrapped and taped. An exhausted yet pissed off expression graced her face, skin looking ashy and blotchy.

Tini really fucked her up.

Gmie coughed, clutching her wheel. "Let her go, or they'll get you for this."

Khan watched her, eyes spinning. "Oh, I want them to come get me. Call them. Get them out here before I sever her jugular and do yours next."

The empty expression on his face made his tone even scarier. Goosebumps slithered up my fingers, as his eyes no longer had an inkling of sweetness. It was void of everything.

I believed the words that left his mouth, and Gmie did too because her angry features turned to instant worry and panic.

Gmie peered around for help. "Someone get him! Producers — anyone, kill him before he kills us. Guards! Jookie! Help me."

The sound of her panic hung in the air for a few minutes before an irritated sigh echoed through the atmosphere, soft footsteps following.

"I swear you guys are like fucking babies who won't stop sucking my titty." Jookie turned the corner and strutted over to our group. Hair wild and mussy, a "fuck off, daddy is sleeping" sleep mask covered his forehead. Silk pajama pants laid lazily against his slender hips, showing a hint of his V-cut. A fluffy robe hung from his shoulders, giving us a front-row view of his hard chest.

God, he's gross. Right?

I think our dislike for Jookie was the only thing we had in common.

"You guys are always whining. Fuck it, I'm cutting the cord. Fix your own damn problems. I don't get paid enough to be a surrogate mother," Jookie said, pausing when he got a good look at the scene, the hem of his robe floating around him. "Oh. Well, this is a delicious development." An eager grin cuddled his shapely lips, as his eyes zeroed in on Demo and Khan. "Blood, knives.... what's the occasion because it's not my birthday yet."

"I want you to lift their immunity," Khan said, giving off his usual blank face.

Jookie laughed. "I don't—"

Khan jerked his hand, cutting a deep line across Demo's collarbone. She hollered and gasped, trying to flop to the floor, but Khan continued to hold her up.

"Don't mess with me, Jookie," Khan said, eyes still void of everything. "You guys have plans for them, right? Killing them wouldn't be very good for you, would it?"

Jookie stretched, making the top of his pants slide even further down his hips. "I'll just kill you before you kill them. Problem solved."

"No, you won't." I pushed through Yaz and Chi, standing closer to Khan. "You'll have to kill me too then."

Jookie turned his attention to me, eyes darkening. "I like the look. Pretty Woman?" He grinned, cheeks pinching. "What's your going rate?"

"Nothing you can afford," I snapped.

"Hmm you're not my little peach, are you?" Jookie pouted. "Bring her out. I want to continue what we started on the floor."

"Your fucking Jookie?" Chi whispered in my ear, touching my shoulder. "I thought you were hymenally-challenged but go girl."

"What the fuck's going on?' Rucker limped down the hall, sporting two machetes like a monster in a slasher flick. "Duke and I were worried —" he paused behind Gmie, looking at Khan. "What hell's Khan doing?"

"Being a nuisance." Jookie rubbed his temples. "Can we put this on pause and come back to it later? Like once I had a strong cocktail and a Swedish massage?"

Rucker turned away from Jookie to look at me. "Why are you dressed like a two-dollar hooker?"

"We're cosplaying," Chi said, showing off her outfit. "I'm Big Red. And Yaz is Cher from Clueless."

Rucker eyed Yaz's feet. "See you wore socks with those heels — good choice. Don't want to make anyone vomit."

Yaz tossed her bag at him, knocking him in the chest. "Fuck off."

"It's like I'm babysitting brats and not getting paid," Jookie said, scratching his head.

"We're sick of being treated like this," Khan said, getting everyone back on track. He gripped Demo so tight that she cringed, blood dripping down her body. "We have no food or internet. We're barely surviving, and we're not going to take it anymore."

"Yeah," Chi said, moving forward. "We're forming a union. We have rights."

"Sweetie, the only rights you have is to go fuck yourself, preferable with a nail spiked dildo." Jookie shrugged, looking at Demo. "Kill her. I really don't care."

"But the viewers will care," Khan said in a challenging voice. "Imagine if you do unpause the game and your two best villains are dead, along with one of their favorite male contestants because I know you'll kill me. I just don't care. But the viewers will, and there's no coming back from that."

Jookie pursed his lips. "What if we planned on killing all of you off anyway and starting over fresh? Your argument has no merit then."

"Starting over would cost you too much money," Khan said, tone bored. "And you can't rebrand because people will always know who you are, and no one would ever trust you again. You'd have to make a whole new concept which would take months to years and during that time, you'll just be losing more and more money, along with tanking your reputation even more." A smile snuck onto Khan's face. "But I can fix it for you. I can get your viewers back and make you even more money than before."

Jookie tapped his lips, intrigued. "How?"

"You really expect me to give that up for free?" Khan said, jerking Demo closer.

Jookie sighed and rubbed his face. "Fine. You tell me how to fix the game, and I'll grant you whatever you want. Except your freedom."

"How about Demo and Gmie's immunity?" Khan asked.

"Gone," Jookie said without a second thought.

"What?" Gmie said, eyes almost popping out of her skull.

"Your deal harmed us more than helped," Jookie said, picking lint off his robe.

"I want the internet back on," Khan said, bringing Jookie's attention back to him.

"Alright," Jookie said.

"Along with requests," Khan added.

"I'll let you guys request stuff from us, but not from fans since the game's down," Jookie said, fixing his mask. "But only if your advice sounds useful."

"You also can't get rid of us and start over," Khan said, connecting eyes with Jookie.

Jookie giggled, eyes glittering. "Almost thought you forgot to add that one in. Fine. Done."

"I want your word," Khan said, clutching the knife handle.

Jookie winked at me. "I swear on my love for my peach."

I turned up my lips in disgust. "I hate you on so many cosmic levels."

Jookie licked his lips. "Hate sex is the best sex."

"Not even," Yaz said.

"Yes even," Chi said, touching her top. "Angry sex is so hot. I always come."

Jookie turned to Khan. "I'm waiting...? What's your so-called plan?"

"First things first, you need to establish trust again," Khan said, clenching Demo closer because she kept quivering.

"P-please let me go," Demo murmured.

"Shut up," Jookie said to her before turning back to Khan. "How do we regain trust?"

"By making it right," Khan said. "The first thing you need to do is kill someone. Make sure it's someone in higher management. Preferably make it the robotic voice because people already dislike them. Put all the rigging, cheating and blame on them and then kill them off and say the game's under new management."

Jookie laughed. "I like it."

"Kill them off on a live stream, so all the viewers can see," Khan said. "Better yet torture them and let the viewers pick the ways. Also give the viewers an incentive for watching the stream — a free gift or money, something."

Jookie grinned. "You're a sick bastard, Khan and I love it."

"Next, get rid of your subscription service and return people's money," Khan said.

Jookie's grin dropped from his face like a sinking ship.

"We're losing a shit ton of money already, and now you want us to lose more?"

"You need to lose money to make more money," Khan said. "You guys messed up big time. You lost your viewers' trust, and that's going to be hard to get back. You need to appear genuine and apologetic, and the only way to do that is by showing your viewers that you care. Make the game free to watch for the rest of the season, or at least the next few months. Call it a free trial for a new start. It'll go well with the new management angle." Khan flexed his fingers on the knife handle. "To add to the new management angle, you should plan a big event for it. A free event. Giveaway a lot of things — expensive things. The event should be light and fun, and the main focus should be us, the contestants. Yes, the viewers like to see us suffer, but most of them are fans of at least one of us. Do another challenge or something else fun with us."

"How are we gonna make money?" Jookie asked, hands on hips, robe moving. "Your whole plan involves us losing money."

"And you're going to lose even more," Khan said. "To entice people to come to this free event, you need to return some of the viewers' money. For your high rollers, return fifty percent or more. Also, lower the percent you get from betting as well."

Jookie clenched his robe. "Excuse me?"

"Let me finish," Khan said in a hard tone. "Those are your real moneymakers. The people you need the most. Return their money. That will make them happy and more inclined to give you a second chance. During this event, do betting pools and make sure all or most of your high rollers win in some way. Winning will make them think you're being honest again. Once the event is over, continue this winning streak for a while, about two weeks or a month. Then, triple and quadruple the size of the betting pools, and always make sure that at least forty percent of your high rollers walk away happy. This will make the game feel authentic and honest again."

"Is this it?" Jookie asked, looking irritated.

"No, do you have any dirt on your high rollers?"

"Yeah," Jookie said, furrowing a brow. "Why?"

"Blackmail two or three of them into working for you—"

"Working how?" Jookie asked, confused.

Khan looked annoyed at being interrupted. "They're going to be secretly betting in the game for you. I'm guessing before the game pause you were probably secretly stealing money from the betting pools like most black web betting. But doing it my way, with the high rollers, it's easier and cleaner and you'll wind up with more money. Constant money too," he said. "This is what you do. Give the high rollers money to bet, and make sure they win. Bet big. This makes sure you're always winning money per betting pool, while also getting a percentage of the betting like you usually do. Double income. Make sure you're alternating between the high rollers you have betting for you. Having the same high roller win big every time makes you look suspicious and other people will catch on. That's why I said to blackmail two or three so you have a variety."

"Is that everything?" Jookie asked.

"Yes," Khan said, locking eyes. "Are you going to give me my demands?"

Jookie paused, looking at Khan. An intense silence brushed the air, everyone holding their breath, waiting on Jookie's response.

"Your ideas might work," Jookie said after a couple of minutes. "I'll take them back to everyone else and see what they think, but we'll probably have to tweak them a bit, but I like them, so I'll keep my word. You're all safe. The internet will be back on. Requesting too. And no immunity."

"W-wwhat?" Gmie said, stuttering. "You said I would always be safe!"

"I also told my therapist that I'd see her four times a week, and I haven't been there in four years." Jookie shrugged. "And if you would've let me finish, I was going to say killing is forbidden for the time being.

You all have fans and we need all of you at your best for this free event." Jookie scrunched up his nose, looking at us. "I highly suggest you all take this time to heal up and get in shape cause you all look like shit." Jookie then turned and walked away, the end of his robe whisking in the wind like a superhero. "We're done here."

"Not yet," Khan said, making Jookie pause. "I want to know about the thirteenth contestant."

A surprised expression painted Jookie's face before he laughed. "You mean Betinia's split? Ask her."

"Then that would mean Seb's counted too," Khan said, shaking his head. 'The numbers don't add up."

Jookie shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, waving and moving away. "Now don't disturb me with any more of your foolishness again. I need my beauty sleep. You—" He pointed to a guard. "Get my fucking candles and grab some vanilla incenses. I'm taking a honey milk bath before bed."

When Jookie was out of sight, Khan threw Demo on the floor and stepped over her like she was nothing. Not even sparing her a second glance.

I stood there, stunned. What just happened?

♟♙♟