MANGORICEPUDDING

The whirling blades of a drone hovered and hummed above Red and Pak. Like an eye, the camera scanned the alleyway—Pomi clutched her hands to her chest while Nico, one of Pak’s men, stood watching over her.

“Sick! That’s us in the feed!”

“Where at?”

“The app! You blind? Look at the app! The drone’s gotta camera on us!”

Pak and his other goon, Boon, were huddled together with their phones and the livestream. Red, himself, was lost in the livestream and the chat. The viewer count zinged up and up into the thousands, he was barely making out what anyone was saying in the chatbox—he caught a few comments from the countless messages.

sniperxmelons99: they r jst standing ther

mustardman11: this **** is boring wait. wut why am i censored lol

88chicknstr: yoooo thas POMI big fannn shes so hot

smoocher1000: follow me on quickgram! ill follow u back, follow4follow

It was all a bunch of nonsense, trolls, and bots, and emojis of the monkey—the apps mascot, wearing boxing gloves and doing silly faces.

One comment stuck out to Red within his quick glance.

chompstickchompy: did they even read the rules? **** bananas! pun intended

The rules?

Red scrolled to the top of the app, he quickly scanned the rudimentary menu, and then clicked on RULES OF THE GAME.

RULES OF THE GAME

No Guns, Melee Only.

No Police, Instant Disqualification

Win by Knockout or Opponent Death

Every Player Starts with 10 Points. Every Knockout Win is 10 Points. Every Loss is Minus 5 Points. If You Hit Zero Points or DIE, you are eliminated from the game. No point transfers.

The Last Player Standing Or The Player With The Most Points By The End Of 48 Hours WINS 100K.

Good Luck, Have Fun.

What the-

———————

“Wild, wild, wild!” Pak broke Red’s train of thought. Pomi attempted to slip by Nico, but while looking at his phone, he shoved his foot against the wall—blocking her path.

“Damn, 100K, is that for real?” Nico muttered.

“That drones legit, not cheap.” Pak mentioned.

“Mango—Rice-Pudding?” Boon said out loud, staring at his phone.

“You know what the wildest thing is?” Pak continued, “All of us in this stank alley are players.”

In the camera feed, Red saw graphics of their usernames floating above their heads. PAKGUN69 over Pak’s head, irlPOMI over her head, and MANGORICEPUDDING137 over his own—HANDsumNICO and BIGBUNBOON55 were the other two. Red’s eyes became erratic, looking over the rules again, the feed again, and non-stop chatbox again. There was a PLAYERLIST option within the menus with the number (1000) beside it. One-thousand players?!

But before Red had the time to check the player list, Pak shouted, “You ever been in a fight, Red?”

“Boss, he’s shaking in his boots. I don’t think he wants to play.” Boon laughed.

Pomi planted both her palms against Nico’s chest in an attempt to push him and get away. But Pomi being about Red’s height—had Nico barely budging. He towered over her at 180cm. He then grabbed her by the collar and shoved her onto the ground—she scraped her knee and let out a whimper.

“We get a freebee, boss! Beat her to a pulp and knock her out, right?”

The chat exploded with messages about the whole thing being fake or AI generated, others about disgusting behavior—but a few were excited about the content and the violence to come, others were eager to see a woman "put in her place", or to witness the possible carnage. Red knew the chat would descend into chaos, that this kind of content would bring out the unruly and unkind—the internet monsters with no filter.

Probably the least of my worries…

Glancing back up at everyone and then back down at the comments, his mind was full and heavy and confused. A headache came and his nose continued to bleed.

The gangs attention was on Pomi.

Pak glared at Pomi and then the drone in the sky, “I’m feeling generous Red, you’re one of us, aren’tcha? Come hang with my crew, let’s win this thing, whaddya’say? 100K! That’s a lot of money in this city. We can live it up like kings. And if you’re watching the same podcasts, I am, they say to think like a king even before you’re the king. Then you become the king.”

Pak laughed hard, cocking his head back.

I would live like a king with 100K. I’d pay off my sister’s hospital bill, quit my job—and live it up. No more swallowing bullshit for prick-bosses. No more sacrifices. No more being treated like the scum of the earth. Money really does change things, it can bring happiness-

Pomi was scared. She was laid out on her belly, having never taken her eyes off of Red. Her knee was scraped and her face pleaded for help.

Get it a freaggin’grip, I need to do something.

“This isn’t real. This is absurd, Pak. It’s a scam.” Red tightened his grip on his phone.

I knew better than anyone—this was a scam. It’s how my sister and I ended up stuck in this district in the first place, big dreams with no real direction—thinking we won some big lottery ticket.

Within the clearing confusion within his mind, a little Red saw Yui at the end of the pier. Her back was facing Red, she watched the sunset glistening over the ocean.

“They took everythin-” Red’s voice cracked.

“We don’t give up!” Yui flipped around with a smile on her face and her fist in the sky.

You had tears in your eyes, but you never wanted me to see. You had to be strong for us—for me.

Red smiled with teeth covered in blood and nervous laughter, “It’s a scam guys or some dumb prank! Some sketchy ad on QuickGram pops-up and everyone and their moms signs up for it?”

Even if there was money waiting at the end of this game, I wouldn’t make it. I’m as small as Pomi. I’m not like them. I don’t want to hurt anybody, but maybe I can at least get her the hell out of here.

“It is kinda’dumb.” Boon replied. Even Nico, rubbed his chin, seemingly lost in thought about how unfeasible this whole thing was. The chat ruminated about the game. There were only twelve camera feeds live—and supposedly one-thousand players to keep track of.

It’s working.

We can go home.

“You guys don’t get it-” Pak continued, “-look at the feed, the chat, the drone in the sky. It doesn’t matter if the 100K isn’t real. Someone set this whole thing up, dumb, but elaborate in its own way. They want us to put on a show and if there’s no reward, we take the reward from them.”

The lens on the drone zoomed onto Pak, a close-up for the livestream.

Pak inhaled through his nose and exhaled with a sudden rise in cheer within his voice, “Don’t let your dreams, be dreams, boys!”

Shoving a peace sign into the camera and then flipping his hand around—changing his finger position into a middle-finger, Pak continued, “Your hopes and dreams, grab hold of them! Don’t cower beneath the pressures of life and grab the bull by the horns!”

The chat started to engage with Pak, dropping tidbits of donations and emojis—their messages were highlighted or became text-to-voice. Pak finished with, “I’ll win for all of you—and for me, the king!”

bigchungus3339: pakgun? pakGOD! bro is gonna win this whole thing

hzdinsdin: does pakgun have is own flick.tv? id watch it

goobgoon: yo this so dumb but so fun i cant stop watchin

pixelnaughty01: no pain, no gainssssssz

More and more, messages in the chat piled on. Most of it in support of the whole affair, and Pak was gaining favor with each second that past.

“The point is Reddy-boy, you can’t know something—unless you give it try. I believe that’s enough talking. Let’s finally give the people what they want. A show—a wild one. And I’ll start with her and then you, if you get in my way.” PAKGUN69 licked his lips and fixed his thick-rimmed glasses.

Red was too stunned to speak back, his heart was pounding, he looked at his phone and the chat. They were cheering Pak on and calling Red a coward.

———————

Crap.

7moviesloverr: y isnt dis kid calling the police? is he ********

7moviesloverr: oops dey censored me

zerohero83: y hasnt anyone called the poliece?

thiccmummy2: r u dumb? thats the lower pits, aint no way police gonna show up

humungusbreins999: tis **** fake as hell anywayy

The cops in Hlum Lang District were either corrupt or useless. A few insisted they had called already. Some dismissed the whole thing as fake, saying it felt like a cheap found-footage film—or a staged stunt for attention, accusing her of playing the helpless girl. Others ranted about how broken the system was.

Red thought to himself—they weren’t wrong! This was the slums after all. Hlum Lang District was a melting pot of immigrants with nowhere else to go and no one wanted to deal with refugees. They’d be lucky if someone showed up at all—maybe some uniformed prick on a bicycle.

Use your brain, use your brain! You’re smarter than these jackasses!

Red swiped the screen of his phone, trying to rid the app and avoid the chat.

Okay? Come on! Why isn’t it working? I can’t get off this damn app! I can’t think with this damn chat going off every millisecond! My phone is stuck on this fu-

The chat egged him on to do something—anything.

“What’s it going to be, Reddy?” Pak asked.

Red’s arm went limp, his phone hung from the tips of his fingers, he watched Pomi—helplessly trying to wriggle free from under Nico’s boot.

porkbunsnotthatkind: he walkin away! what a *****!!!!!

Red turned, his head drooped low, walking in the opposite direction.

I’ll buy time. There’s three of them, but if, maybe, I can hurt one of them—just enough. They’ll scurry like rats. Nobody wants to get stabbed. They’ll panic and run. They’re scum like me—

Pak shrugged, half-way turning to his boys, “Oh well.”

—but Pomi isn’t.

Red reached down, grabbing a bottle by the neck.

Smash.

The sound of shattering glass filled the air. Like glitter falling, tiny pieces sprinkled into the ground.

“Don’t touch her.”

The chat filled his head with intrusive thoughts.

But you barely know her, did you see the way she and friends looked at you? What are you a simp? She’s not going to let you hit. Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I know what I’m doing! I think...

His own voice swirled in his mind, he held his head—struggling to quiet it.

Pak slid off his leather jacket and handed it to Boon.

“Boss, you don’t want me to handle this?” He asked Pak.

“I got it. I need a little exercise! It’s good for the mind, body, and spirit!”

Pak revealed his arms, slim but with sharp shapes and a tattoo of a snake that coiled around his forearm. Pak was taller than Nico. He rolled his wrists and stepped forward toward Red with a grin, “Come on, Reddy. Let’s fight.”

———————

Fight? When was the last time I fought someone—like physically? Angry yelling matches with my sister doesn’t count.

A memory, sharp and sudden, slammed into his mind: second grade, playtime.

The third graders, bigger and meaner kids, picked on his class. “They’re never going to stop bothering you guys, unless you stand up for yourself!”  Yui’s voice, clear as a bell, echoed in his ears. She was graduating, leaving for Junior High at the time, and leaving them unprotected. He remembered telling other second graders, the shared resolve. The charge, a small army crested the hill, towards the bullies.

“Prepare for my Karate!” he shrieked, a tiny fist flying towards the biggest boy.

The world had spun for Red.

The third grader held Red upside down, then slammed his head into the ground.

Red was a white belt, never anything more.

The hot, salty tears, the awkward silence of the third graders, their eventual retreat. It had worked, in a way.

Some even became friends after the battle.

——————

Somehow this whole thing with Pak—feels a little different. Red chuckled to himself, feeling his clammy fingers gripping the neck of the bottle, and his knees wobbling uncontrollably. He lifted his phone to look at the livestream and chat for anything or anyone that could offer some kind of advice: One last look. The view from the drone was sort of pretty in a way. Beyond this alley, the distant buildings in Ruam Mai stood tall, their lights were gleaming.

maddogg90210: dnt just stand ther! get angry damn it! GET ANGRY! arnt u mad?! dont think and just charge IN! Dnt let this guy step all over u and ur gurl!!! JUST SEE RED! think about something that makes you angyr nd LET ******* LOOSE MANGO!!!!! u can DO IT!

Let loose? What are you talking about?

Have you seen these guys? They’re big and scary. Get angry? Why? Life’s unfair, I already know that. Bad people like Pak get there way all the time. What makes me angry is that I exist—

Red imagined his sister in the emergency room. Tubes in her nose, the saline bag dripping and hanging, the constant beeping of machines, while surgeons operated on her doing what they could. Red was just outside the ER, on the ground—pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his legs around his arms. No one to hold him, but himself.

Yui was always there for me—until she wasn’t.

It was my fault you were in that emergency room.

And now when I see mom in my mind—and you—I am filled with dread.

“Every time. Every day. It’s always the same. Scroll. Scroll. Scroll. That’s all I do.”

“Yo’did he say something?” Boon snickered, glancing in Red’s direction.

Red screamed.

His voice snarled and cracked loud like a dying animal cry—echoing between the buildings in the alley. Everything seemed to go quiet: the chat, Pak and the boys, Pomi’s whimpering, and Red’s mind. The whirling blades of the drone and the barnacled radiators and fans along the walls remained the constant sound in his ears.

Then Red slammed the phone against his forehead, and then again.

nutbutter443: hes crashing out lol!!

And before Red even realized it himself—he was full on sprinting with the broken glass bottle in hand, toward the barely visible silhouettes beyond his tears. He felt the wind against his face and the air in his lungs giving out with every step he took.

Pak pulled his right leg back, brought his hands to his face in a guard, and then swung his knee up—and in a single swift motion, he extended his leg from his knee like a spring and planted his foot into Red’s sternum.

Crack.

For Red, the world didn't just stop; it shattered. The physical effect was immediate and catastrophic. The diaphragm, the muscle responsible for drawing breath into the lungs, spasmed violently upon impact. The air was driven from his lungs in a ragged, involuntary gasp, leaving a burning vacuum in his chest. His body folded instinctively. The force of the blow, concentrated entirely on the small surface area of the ball of the foot, sent a shockwave through his nervous system. His legs turned to jelly, the sudden loss of breath and the intense, localized pain short-circuiting his ability to remain upright. He stumbled backward, his center of gravity completely destroyed, gasping like a fish pulled from the sea.

But the physical devastation was only the beginning. The psychological toll was perhaps even more profound.

Red could not breathe, laid out flat on his back. In a way, the kick was similar to Bank’s pressing elbow, but much—much worse. Air struggled to come in or out of his mouth, his chest rose and fell rapidly. His eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets.

“Still got it,” Pak lowered his leg, slow, with the tip of his shoes touching the ground gracefully. The kick Pak used was a thief of momentum and a destroyer of will and was known as the Teep (Push Kick) in Muay Thai. It interrupted Red’s erratic rhythm with brutal efficiency. It was a physical manifestation of the word "No." It told him, in the most visceral way possible, that he did not control the space, that his aggression and feelings were utterly useless.

Boon clapped his hands together, “Day-yum! You still taking them Muay Thai lessons?!”

“Big Jubo showed me a thing or two! Cool, right?!” Pak responded proudly.

I can’t breathe.

———————

As Red struggled to draw a breath, panic set in. The inability to breathe was one of the most terrifying sensations a human can experience. The mind, starved of oxygen and overwhelmed by pain, abandoned all thoughts of fighting. Survival became the only imperative. He realized, with terrifying clarity, that he was entirely at the mercy of Pak standing before him—a man who had just dismantled him with a single, well executed motion. The Teep had not just broken his posture; it had broken his spirit.

Mommy.

Pak squatted low and grabbed Red by his hair. He lifted him up—their faces met. “Reddy-boy, It’s just a game, we’re playing—a game, remember? No need to get so serious.”

Red was gasping for air, his eyes had rolled up, and his hands were clawing at his own chest.

“Yo, are you listening?” Pak slapped Red once.

I made a mistake. I should’ve left her behind—turned the other way and never looked back.

Pak raised his hand to slap Red again, swung, but stopped as soon as Red flinched—shoulders rising, snot and blood emerging from his nose, tears from his eyes, and drool from his lips.

Red could not speak, still gasping for air.

Pak couldn’t believe his eyes. “Did I hit him that hard?”

Nico whistled, his attention momentarily captured by his phone. The chat was active, a flurry of messages indicating excitement, though he couldn't quite keep up with it all. He eased his foot off Pomi for a second. She used that brief opening, pushing herself off the ground with all her might. This unexpected move threw Nico off-balance, leaving him hopping on one foot as Pomi slipped away from his grasp.

“Leave him alone!” The shout cut through the air.

“Watch out, Pak!” Caught by surprise, Pomi had grabbed an aluminum lid and smashed it into Pak—making him fall backward and slip onto his butt. Pomi held the trash lid like a shield. Pak rose, patting the back of his pants—talking about how expensive they were and that they were ruined. Red was in a painful daze, his face stung, and his chest and lungs weren’t cooperating. He was fading in and out of consciousness—and then it went black.

PAKGUN69 KNOCKED OUT MANGORICEPUDDING137 AND IS AWARDED 10 POINTS.

I had a thought. But it’s all jumbled, and I feel like I’m dying. Am I dying? I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die. I want to die, I want to die—Yui.

———————

GASP!

Red was down five points.

Air flung into Red’s lungs in a rage.

An unseen force pulled him in an upright sitting position.

The pain in his chest was near unbearable, something had broken inside and his cheek began to swell. Dazed and confused, Red’s vision was cloudy—he swept his surrounding in a haze. He saw shapes—that Pomi was in front of him, holding the trash lid up. Pak was ahead, giggling and looking at his phone with his goons.

But then, as his vision began to clear, Red’s eyes widened—a dark shadow loomed behind Boon and Nico. The shape of it, the dark silhouette, it hung high over Pak and his two goons.

spooky4u: who is that?

bigbeans320: HES MASSIVE

cryptocurryhurry007: ohhohohoh

dazzlingrazzling99: is that a mask?

Red’s phone buzzed.

A NEW CHALLENGER IS NEARBY, FIND THEM AND DON’T FORGET TO FIGHT DIRTY, MANGORICEPUDDING137, WA-CHA!