The Cull: Season 3

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was the vast, open atrium of a mall-office hybrid building. Sunlight streamed through the glass ceiling, casting long shadows on the polished floor below. A few levels up, I made my way toward a reserved event room, weaving through the mingling crowd. Inside, a mix of familiar faces and strangers greeted me.

The room’s industrial vibe was unmistakable—exposed pipes and beams overhead, a makeshift setup for the meeting. A few men were showing off, climbing onto the beams and doing pull-ups, their laughter echoing through the space. It was almost loud enough to drown out the first gunshot.

Almost.

The sharp crack of a firearm cut through the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of screams. Instinct kicked in, and I bolted toward the door. Chaos unfolded outside—people were scattering like ants, fleeing in all directions. Men and women in black jumpsuits and masks stormed the space, wielding guns, blades, and clubs. I dubbed them the Shades—silent, faceless, and deadly.

People ran for the stairs, but the Shades were already there, cutting them down without hesitation. Others tried escaping to the rooftop, only to meet the same fate. Even those who made it outside were mowed down by Shades stationed near the exits. It wasn’t just a massacre—it was a trap.

My mind raced as I darted down a hallway. I skidded to a halt when I saw a Shade casually crossing ahead of me, their blade glinting in the dim light. Heart pounding, I slipped into a nearby bathroom and closed the door behind me. Inside, a pregnant woman was huddled in the corner behind the door, her face pale but determined.

“What’s your name?” I whispered.

“Linda,” she replied, her voice trembling but steady.

“We’ll work together to get out of here,” I said. She nodded, clutching her belly. I explained my plan: lure one of the Shades into the bathroom, ambush them, and take their weapon and outfit. If we could blend in, we’d stand a chance. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

Cautiously, I cracked the door open and stepped out, the bathroom’s fluorescent lights buzzing faintly behind me. The hallway stretched in both directions, eerily silent save for the distant echoes of screams and muffled gunfire. I forced myself to move, each step tentative, toward the intersection where I’d last seen the Shade with the blade. 

Pausing at the corner, I pressed my back to the wall and took a deep breath. Slowly, I leaned forward, peeking just enough to see the figure. They were still there, pacing methodically, the blade glinting faintly in the flickering overhead light. 

My heart thundered in my chest, but I forced myself into action. Stumbling deliberately into the open, I made a show of gasping as if I’d just discovered them. 

The Shade’s head snapped toward me. For a moment, they hesitated, as if weighing the situation. Then they charged, their boots pounding against the tiled floor, blade raised and ready to strike. 

I turned on my heel and bolted back toward the bathroom, the Shade hot on my trail. My pulse roared in my ears, the world narrowing to the sound of their pursuit and the pounding rhythm of my own feet. I reached the bathroom door, yanked it open, and dashed inside, my lungs burning as I sprinted toward the largest stall.

The trap was set.

Linda, crouched in the shadows of the first stall, burst into action the moment the Shade crossed the threshold. Like a coiled spring, she leapt, locking her arms around the Shade’s neck in a fierce hold. The Shade thrashed, but Linda held tight, her face a mask of grim determination.

I seized the opportunity, grabbing the Shade's arm and wrestling for control of the blade. It was heavier than I expected, but adrenaline fueled my grip. The Shade twisted violently, their muffled grunts of exertion matching my own, but I pried the weapon free and hurled it to the floor.

"Linda! The blade!" I shouted, the words barely escaping over the chaos.

Linda reached down, snatching the blade with one hand while maintaining her hold on the Shade’s neck with the other. She stepped back, weapon at the ready, as I took over. With a surge of energy, I smashed the Shade against the tiled wall, then spun and drove them into the edge of the sink. The impact left a dent in the cheap metal.

They weren’t done yet. The Shade’s hands clawed at my arms, their strength waning but still dangerous. With a guttural yell, I rammed them backward into the toilet, the ceramic cracking under the force. At last, their movements stilled, their body slumping lifelessly against the shattered porcelain.

Breathing heavily, I stepped back, meeting Linda's wide-eyed gaze. For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence broken only by our ragged breaths. The air was heavy with the stench of sweat, blood, and broken tile.

Linda lowered the blade and gave me a shaky nod. “You did it,” she said, her voice trembling.

"We did it," I corrected, leaning heavily against the wall to catch my breath. But we didn’t have time to linger. The battle was far from over.

“Help me with the suit,” I said. Together, we stripped the Shade of their jumpsuit and mask. When Linda tried it on, it didn’t fit.

“It’s too small,” she said, pressing the blade into my hand. “You wear it. Get out of here. Don’t worry about me.”

I hesitated but eventually relented, donning the suit and mask before handing her the blade for protection. With a final glance, I slipped out of the bathroom, leaving Linda behind

The world outside the bathroom felt surreal. The mall was in ruins, bodies scattered across the floor. Cameras were mounted in strange places, their red lights blinking. Outside, camera drones buzzed like flies. My stomach turned as I pieced it together.

They were filming this.

The Cull—an infamous streaming show I’d heard whispers about. No one knew how they managed to make the carnage look so real. But it wasn’t just a show. These people were actually dying.

I joined a group of Shades moving toward the exits. One of them sidled up next to me, speaking in a low voice. “Thought you were dead,” they said. “You’re my partner, remember?”

I nodded, playing along. Apparently, the Shades worked in pairs. I kept my head down and followed them to a trailer parked outside. Inside, a woman sat on a couch—a stark contrast to the violence outside.

She was small, with short curls framing a face that seemed kind yet commanding. Her slim, defined arms gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and her golden glow pulsed faintly in the dim light.

She dismissed the others with a wave, leaving the two of us alone.

I removed my mask, glaring at her. “Why are you doing this?”

She smiled, serene and unbothered. “I’m not,” she replied. “I only facilitate it.”

Her answer was maddeningly vague, and I got the sense she wouldn’t tell me more no matter how much I pressed. “You’re sick,” I spat. “These people are dying for a show.”

“Your job is done,” she said, her voice calm but final.