Everybody ran as fast as their legs could take them, and they all piled into the limo.

A devilish grin spread over the face of Red lips as she accompanied the eight contestants into the limo. Comb over was the last to join, and once he shut the door, the limo lurched forward. The eight contestants looked nervously to each other, an awkward silence filling the air.

"Let's get to know each other," ventured the businessman.

"What is there to know, we just fucking walked through a woman's corpse, I don't know about you, but that pretty much sums up my life."

"Yeah, and what are we doing here?!"

Red lips just smirked, keeping her silence.

The businessman sighed, "We all just need to calm down and not lose our heads."

'W-where are you taking us exactly?"

The only reply was two dentist perfect smiles.

"C-c'mon, this isn't funny, where are you taking us?"

The limo stopped at a red light, and rundown buildings could be seen out the window. Something thumped against the door of the vehicle.

"GIVE ME A SANDWICH!" shouted a ragged looking man from the window.

"No, GO AWAY!" One of the women spoke up for the first time - her voice had a very annoying, whiny ring to it.

"GIVE ME A SANDWICH!" the man repeated, banging his fists on the glass. His hand broke through, glass shattering into the lap of the whiny woman. Her screams were piercing and red lips gave a brief disgusted look, before smiling again. The bloodied hand of the man clawed at her throat. Comb over calmly opened the door and beckoned the man inside.

"What chu want me in there fo'?" the drunken man stuttered.

Comb over ignored him, but leaned to red lips and said, "He'll make for good TV!"

Red lips let out an annoyed sigh looking to the drunk, "Come on - get in."

The drunken man looked around, before shrugging to himself and stumbling in. He plopped into the car beside the whiny woman as the limo lurched forward. She tried to shrink away and her nose crinkled as she smell the alcohol.

"So what chyall fancy pants, rich fol' doin' here?"

His question echoed in assorted voices, "What are we doing here?"

Red lips began to loose her cool, "Does it really matter, you're all alive?"

"Kidnapped!"

"No, not kidnapped, you Fool."

"I was taking a bath."

Comb over looked to the speaker, his eyebrow shifting upward.

More voices rose with sayings like, "I was eating supper!"

"Wait - how did we even get to the show to begin with?"

Comb over smirked, "You should read the fine print on things you sign."

'What...are you talking about?"

"You all-besides drunk over here- frequent a certain coffee shop."

'I...don't even drink coffee," replied the businessman.

"Oh, but I'm sure you've been in one, since your name and address were on a certain contract from a certain shop."

"You mean the -"

"Yes, the home of the status symbol cups with the green emblem."

"When I took that glass home, I set it in the sink and it just shattered!"

An eyebrow raised, before ignoring the person and moving on, "You all signed up to win a new car, but failed to read the fine print!"

"There was fine print...?"

The businessman spurted out, "There is ALWAYS fine print! Hold on, where was the fine print, I looked that thing fully over!" The businessman was suddenly outraged.

Red lips replied, "Fine print is called fine print for a reason, and trust me - ours was quite fine."

"This is bull - I want my car!"

"You're not getting a car."

"But that's why I signed, is for a car!"

"We know that, but we are playing off of your desires."

The drunken man looked about, a confused look upon his face 'What chyall on 'bout now?"

"None of your business Space Monkey."

"Who you callin' Space Monkey, man?"

"I'm calling you Space Monkey!"

"Yeah, man, but why?"

"You're the anomaly, like you're from space!"

"Forget you, man."

"I am a woman, and worth more than you'll make in your whole pathetic life!"

"Whatever, same thing, just don't go jumping all over my back, man."

Red lips frowned before an idea lit up behind her eyes.

Comb over looked to her, a small smirk appearing.

Suddenly, the limo stopped and red lips announced that they were to get off.

"W-where are we?" chimed the whiny woman.

Everyone got out and looked up and down at the tall rundown building before them.

Vandalism showered every inch of the building as the group smashed broken glass under their feet. There weren't even doors, so the group just walked right into the building's empty core. Looking around, soot seemed to engulf the area, stained onto mirrors and old furnishings that lay abandoned.

"Is this where we're living?!" came a shrill shout. The group turned to face the TV smiles to find that they had vanished.

"What are we going to do now?!"

"Just stay calm, that's all we can do."

"Stay calm?!

"Yes, just stay calm!"

"We're-we're in a dump!"

'Nay man, I seen worse." chimed the drunken man.

"Well, you're a freaking bum!"

'That dun mean nuttin' man."

"Yes it does, you're used to filth, unlike us civilized people!"

"What makes you more civilized than myself?"

"I have a house, and a job, and nice furniture."

"Man, I gotta job anda house and sum furniture."

"You're a drunk."

"Yuh, butti gots dem tings."

"Oh, I'm assured..."

"I do man, foge' you."

A voice butted in, "We need to figure out what we are doing here!"

"What about my SANDWICH?"

"SANDWICH?!"

"Yes, my sandwich, with tomatoes!"

"POTATO!"

'We're not getting anywhere by just standing here talking, lets start going."

The group split up around the room and explored under old chairs and boards.

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"Just... something..."

'What kind of something?" something crashed behind them.

"How convenient," someone muttered as people turned to the sound.

"Hey, we don't need your smart remarks," once facing the sound, the found nothing there.

Now people were looking more frantic, the feeling of not having control was overwhelming. Everyone in the group peered about, not noticing when the drunken fellow stumbled away. No one even noticed each other anymore; it was just them and this purgatory.

"Forget this, I'm outta here," inquired a balding man.

He walked out of the open area, but was thrust back in my large men in ski masks.

'GET YOUR ASS BACK OVER THERE, NOW!"

"HEY LET ME OUTTA HERE!"

"I SAID GET YOUR ASS BACK OVER THERE!" one of the masked men cocked a gun, pressing it against his temple.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"...Watch me," the masked man's finger twitched against the trigger, a bullet shooting through the bald man's thick skull.

Another masked man got on a walkie talkie, "We had to shoot Jeffrey...on TV we'll say it was one of the drunk man's friends."

Whiny woman cried out in protest, "Hey, you can't do that!"

"We can do anything we want, you signed the contract."

"Sarah, shut up before you join Jeffrey..."

"What are we even doing?!"

'Playing a game."

"A GAME, A GAME?!"

"Yeah, a game; that's what I said."

"A man just got KILLED!"

'He didn't follow the rules, he chose his own destiny."

"But you don't get KILLED while playing Checkers or Monopoly!"

"Depends on who you play with."

"But that's so twisted!"

The masked man dug into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, placing one between his lips as he looked to the woman. On the other side of the building, the businessman hungrily eyed a set of stairs.

A woman's smoky voice sounded from one of the three masked forms, 'Phillip, don't even think about it."

There were frowns abound, and some people began to sit on the floor or broken furniture. A distressed expression transfigured businessman's face, staring at the small figure before him, leaving him the only one standing - apart from those wearing ski masks. He refused just to sit down; something needed to be done.

The non-smoking male masked figure sighed, leaning against an old counter near by, his thigh pressing to the surface as he pulled back his mask.

There was a gasp as people realized who he was. It turned out to be the muscle man that had been shot down in the TV studio.

"The magic of TV," he said, presenting himself like a new car on a game show.

"Bu-But we saw you!"

"I can see that your powers of observation are far stronger than your sense of thought."

'What are you talking about?"

"You see with your eyes, but fail to have imagination or common sense."

"O-kay, but what's that got to do with you?"

"I am the one you thought to have been killed."

"You were killed - CONSPIRACY!"

"POTATO!"

The smoking man tilted his hand to the side as he released a puff of smoke, his finger twitching against the trigger, shooting the brunette woman in the side, "Shut up, willya?"

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" she cried as she crawled away to her own little corner to have a monologue with a cameraman staring her in the face. She let out a screech as the camouflaged cameraman became all too apparent.

"I HATE TV!"

"Oh but the TV loves you, honey," taunted the cameraman.

"This has to be a violation of rights," muttered the businessman.

"No sir, it's not; you all signed a contract," muttered cancer's housing victim.

"We need to figure out what we're doing!" shouted a new voice.

'We've already told you - it's a game."

"Then what the FUCK are we doing?!"

The woman with the smoky voice approached the one who just spoke, "If you knew what was good for you, you'd bite your tongue."

"You know what; MAYBE YOU SHOULD BITE YOUR TONGUE!"

Smokey's piercing eyes shot to the new voice, ripping the mask from her face in irritation. The crowd all seemed to gasp at once. A cry of disbelief sounded as the woman turned out to be the woman stapled to the door.

"THIS IS SO NOT REAL MAN!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Yeah man, this is just all some dream!"

"Alright, then let's all play a game."

"NO WAY, MAN!"

"Why not?"

"I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT'S GOING ON,!"

"Let's play a game, then."

"A FUCKING GAME IS YOUR ANSWER?!"

'Come on, play a game with me." As the hippy was about to protest again, the businessman quickly replied, "Okay, we'll do it."

'Splendid."