He had no name, no family, no future. Just alleys, hunger, and fists.
That was until Mr. Least — the world's most notorious YouTuber — invited him to a parody of the hit show Octopus Activities:
Homeless people, deadly games, one winner, one fortune.
With nothing to lose, he enters the arena. But while others beg for mercy or fight for food, he fights for a future.
He wasn't born for greatness. He stole it — on camera.
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The trash stank more in the mornings.
Rotten curry. Broken bottles. Diapers. The kind of smell that slapped you awake harder than hunger ever could.
He stirred under the damp cardboard like a corpse rising from the grave. Rats scattered. His stomach growled again — not like an animal, more like an insult. A reminder that he hadn't eaten since... yesterday? Or maybe the day before. He'd lost track.
A dog barked somewhere behind the metro station. He didn't flinch. He was used to barking — dogs, people, the city itself.
People walked by like they were allergic to eye contact. School kids. Office workers. Couples with headphones in. No one noticed the boy in the alley with hair like overgrown weeds and a hoodie that could've qualified as a biohazard.
He sat up, rubbing the crust from his eyes with the back of his wrist. His hands were cold. His fingers were cracked. He counted the coins in his pocket: two cents. Not enough for a chewing gum. Maybe enough for a half-rotten banana if the vendor felt generous. He wouldn't.
There was a broken mirror lying against the dumpster. He glanced at it, saw a blur. Sunken cheeks. Greasy hair. Eyes that didn't look twelve anymore, even if he technically was.
He didn't remember his name. Not really. Once, someone had called him "Stray." Not out of cruelty — just accuracy. He kept it.
Stray.
He stood, stretched, and scanned the alley. Something was off.
There was a man across the road, pointing a camera at him. Not a phone — a real camera, with a fuzzy mic and a shoulder rig. Fancy stuff.
Stray froze.
The man waved.
"What?" Stray croaked.
The man smiled like a salesman. "Wanna make some money?"
Stray didn't move. This wasn't new. Creep with a camera. Probably wanted a sob story for views. Or worse.
The man held up a laminated card:
"Mr. Least Productions – Social Experiment Team"
Stray blinked.
"Ever heard of Octopus Activities?" the man asked.
Stray shook his head.
"Good. its your lucky day"
The man tossed a sealed sandwich in Stray's direction. It landed near his feet.
Stray didn't move right away. He looked at the sandwich, then at the man.
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