For the first time, genuine panic flickered in the man’s eyes. He slowly, dramatically, unbuckled his belt and let his pants drop. He was wearing bright purple boxers with cartoon hotdogs on them. Lena did not laugh. She couldn’t. She was one win away.
The Referee’s paper wrapped around Lena’s rock. She felt a cold knot in her stomach. “Rules are rules, Officer,” he chirped. Lena sighed, unclipped her duty belt—the gun, the taser, the cuffs, the radio—and placed it on the floor. She was now just a woman in a navy blue polo and tactical pants. Marcus’s knuckles whitened.
Lena’s scissors blunted against his rock. A bead of sweat rolled down her temple. She toed off her heavy-duty boots, then her thick socks. The concrete was cold. “Two down,” the Referee said, peeling off his lab coat. Underneath, he wore a neon-green bowling shirt. Strip Rock-Paper-Scissors - Police Edition Vide...
The man, who introduced himself as “The Referee,” didn’t brandish a weapon. He held a glowing, oversized tablet. On it was a countdown timer.
The final throw. The air in the arcade was suffocating. Marcus held his breath. Lena locked eyes with the Referee. He’s a pattern player, she realized. Rock, Paper, Scissors, Rock, Paper… he repeats every three. She’d seen him do it. Her last win had been Paper. His last throw had been Scissors. Which meant his next throw would be… For the first time, genuine panic flickered in
“All units, we have a 10-96 at the old Meridian Mall. Mental subject. Possible hostage situation. Approach with caution.”
Officer Lena Hayes had seen a lot in her five years on the force. Domestic disputes, high-speed chases, the occasional raccoon stuck in a vending machine. But nothing—absolutely nothing—prepared her for the call that crackled over the radio at 11:47 PM on a humid Tuesday. Lena did not laugh
And so, at five minutes to midnight, Officer Lena Hayes found herself standing on an inflatable mat, facing a madman, preparing to play a children’s game for a man’s life.
This was the moment. Lena threw scissors. The Referee threw paper. She had him. But just as his fingers splayed, he jerked his hand—a last-second change. “No,” Marcus hissed. “That’s a foul.” But the Referee laughed. “I’m the house. I’m the referee. Scissors cuts paper. I lose.”
“Defeats you how?” Marcus growled, his hand resting on his sidearm.
“Officers,” he said, his voice unnervingly calm. “Welcome to the final level. Your partner, Officer Chen, is in the back room. He’s safe. For now. The door is biometric. It only opens when I input a code. And I will only input that code when one of you defeats me.”