#Game Night

I step into my apartment after a long day at work, and kick off my wet shoes. Having walked from the bus stop through a caliginous night, I want nothing more than a glass of wine and my pajamas.

I make it a few steps when an ominous musical theme plays, freezing me in place. "This is Game Night! The viral Gameshow livestreaming from our contestant's home. Playing tonight is Fiona."

My stomach drops in fear. I run back to my door, and find it locked from the outside. Desperately I knock, hoping my neighbors will hear, knowing it's no use. I've watched this show before. The neighbors never hear.

Gulping down my terror, I turn back around, knowing I'm on camera, with millions watching.

"For those unfamiliar with the show, here's how it works. Someone close to Fiona tipped us off about something she desperately wants. Let's find out what it is!"

An image is projected on the wall in front of me. My co-worker Aaron. "Fiona seems like your basic twenty-something, eager to grow her career,  but I saw through that, " he said. "After happy hour, she confirmed my suspicions. Told me she loathed this job, and couldn't wait until she was rid of it. What a perfect contestant for my favorite web show I thought. "

"I saw through you too, Aaron," I growl. "You brownnosing weasel."

"So Fiona wishes to be rid of her job," the host's voice returns. "And, Fiona, you can be! Thanks to Aaron breaching your trust, you just need to win Game Night! A challenge awaits in your bedroom. Win it, and a comfortable life, free of your job is yours. Lose, and let's just say  you won't be around to return to work tomorrow."

I let out a shaky breath. I've seen this show once, and heard about it even more. It's always violent. The time I watched, the contestant didn't succeed. By the time the police determined where they were, they were too late. Somehow, the police are always too late.

With shaking legs, I make my way to the bedroom, feeling all the unknown eyes on me. My sacred place of rest, reduced to some sick vicarious entertainment. My bedroom door is closed, and when I push it open, I'm met with a horrific sight.

The CEO of the company sits gagged and bound to a chair, and on my bedside table is a knife.

"You wish to be free of your job. To win this challenge, and Game Night, ensure you will never be able to return."

The host's voice is right behind me now, and I whirl to see a masked figure holding a gun. There's no escaping if I don't win.

Fear floods me as I look between the knife and the CEO. I don't like the guy. He's an inappropriate brute who underpays and overworks his employees, but can I really kill him?

"In the right situation, we are all capable of the most terrible crimes," the host says encouragingly. The audience will want blood. "You have three minutes."

My hands tremble as I pick up the knife. I keep my eyes on the CEO, but don't move toward him yet. Fear grips me, and I know he's terrified too. The time is ticking. If I fail will the host shoot us both or just me? Panic is on the verge of taking me over when I spot my filing cabinet.

Still gripping the knife, I walk toward it, and pull out my copy of my work contract. I slice it in half with the knife. "I quit," I announce.

There's silence. Is this sufficient? Or will the show's host demand blood?

"Congratulations," the host sounds amused. "You've won. You win one million dollars, safely stored in an offshore account. This concludes this episode of Game Night. Thanks for playing Fiona!"

The host walks forward and hands me a business card, "In case you want another job in the future - you could find out why the cops are always late, " he says with a grin.

When I look up again, he's gone. A minute later the cops arrive. They free the CEO who has no details on who abducted him. "Don't come into the office. I'll mail your last check, " he tells me. "That Aaron fellow is out of a job as well."

The police ask if I have any information of use. I think of the business card in my pocket, and the host's words about the police. They're in on it, I realize. I shake my head, "Nothing. Just a guy in a mask. "

They confirm all the cameras have been removed, and when at last I'm alone in my apartment again, I break down and weep.

WC: 793