A Game of Lies

A single, deserted speakeasy between a pawn shop and motel, solemnly left without purpose now with its previous proprietors having ditched the scene lest they get caught by those meddlesome bulls after they caught wind of the establishment's existence and organized a bust. Cabinets and drawers around the miserable and completely illegal bar had been emptied during the raid, several left hanging open miserably in the dank and dim light. Though the place had been wiped bare aside from the furnishings and a thin bit of dust had already begun to settle, the smell of cheap hooch and cigarette smoke still lingered in the air.

On any other occasion, this could be mistaken for another bootlegging hood's attempt at making a buck during Prohibition, serving any owl hoping to get on edge. But this was no ordinary speakeasy, far from it. And the saps laying on the floor weren't your average washed-up guys and dolls.

One thing they didn't know, was that this was going to be the most important month of their short lives.

As the lot came to, blurry and confused as they surveyed their surroundings, a radio against the wall (Which, previously, had seemed to be broken) sprang to life; first with a bit of static, but soon a woman's voice could be heard with unusual clarity.

"Hello, everyone!" the voice announced in a manner not unlike how one addresses guests at a dinner party, "Hello, hello, and welcome to all of you. It's nice to see all of you wide- well, I take that back. Semi-awake. I'd like to introduce myself as your new best friend, and horrible tormentor.

Well now, let's get right to the point, shall we?I trust you're awake enough for that, at the very least. I have a very important message for all of you, one that you need to pay close attention to. You see, I'm a very bored person. And I need someone to amuse me. That's where all of you come in. All of you are in a Game of sorts, one that you'll all be playing against each other.

First of all, I'd like for you all to feel the area around your neck. Unless you're a complete idiot, you should notice that there's a collar around your neck. This collar, as small and harmless as it seems is actually rigged with explosives that will blow your head off should you disobey the rules of the game.

The rules are very simple. Rule number one: there is no escape from my game. If you try to leave the Windy City, your head will explode. Simple as that. Second of all, no guns. They make for very boring games. Third: complete your objective, which I will soon inform you of, in thirty days or less. One month. Or else everyones' heads explode.

Now, on to what everyone is actually doing. It's very simple, really. Each of you have to kill a specific person in this room. That's right, kill someone in here. Man, woman, child, it doesn't matter to me, so long as it's a good show. Do what I ask, and you'll be free to go!

If you all would be so kind, I'd like you all to check your pockets or purses. You should have on your person a wallet, a letter, and a ring. The wallet contains an inexhaustible amount of money for you to use. I honestly don't care what you use it for, so long as it isn't guns.

Your ring is very special, and vital to this game. Each ring should have the name of Jesus Christ or one of his Apostles engraved on the band. These rings are both a brand and a blessing. They mark you as the specific target of another, yet at the same time grant you a special, magical power associated with your respective Apostle. Details on your powers are included in the letter, which also contains your target. In addition, a telephone number is included should you get bored or want to ask me questions."

She hummed a bit, seeming to be trying to remember something, before chirping up again, "Oh, silly me! I almost forgot. Think long and hard about what I'm about to ask you: who are you? Trick question! You don't remember, because I wiped all of your memories. I'm sorry about that, and by that I mean that I'm actually not sorry at all. On the bright side, I did let you keep a little trinket from your past lives. Maybe you can use that to figure out a name?

Oh, I know! I'll make the incentive for winning that much sweeter. In addition to letting you live, I'll also give you your memories back. And, as the cherry on top, I'll grant you any one wish you ask of me. Sounds great, eh? Money, power, booze, a factory full of forsaken children, you name it! All yours. All you have to do is play my game.

And as a parting note, and a little hint for you all. . . Alliances are key. Know your friends, and know your enemies.

Now, you have one full month. Ta-ta! Let the Game begin!"

And with that, the radio shut off.

He woke up to the strangely perky voice on the radio. Considering the girl's words, the situation was dissonant to the point it seemed implausible. Unrealistic. A joke.

Yet, something was missing.

He inched his way into a standing position, checking each object in question as the person on the radio brought them up.

Collar? Around his neck.

Wallet? Stuffed full of greenbacks.

Letter? Pristine enough.

Ring? Looked expensive.

Memories?

...

Trinket?

A small, cardboard box?

Everything was crazy.

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:15:13 PM by chihuahua0

His eyes still closed, the man reached around into his back pocket.

Bloodied gauze. Okay. Name: Gauze. Done.

Identify everyone.

Gauze looked around the derelict speakeasy, met thirteen other faces, and committed the all to memory.

Identify assets.

His hand reaching back into his pocket again, Gauze retrieved the letter that the voice had spoken about. After quickly reading it, Gauze shoved it back into his pocket. Two names and a power. All that he needed to know.

I am an amnesiac. There are no inconsistencies in the voice's observations. There is no way to confirm that my collar explodes, but, to be safe, play the game.

There is an inconsistency in the voice's rules.

Dusting the dirt off of his suit, Gauze stood up, momentarily locked eyes with the confused-looking kid who had already gotten to his feet, and walked out the door.

He probably would've just assumed that he had a bad night better off forgetting, assuming he could remember anything else. The man swore in Greek under his breath and stood up, bracing himself against a table. As promised, something from what was supposedly his past life had been placed in his closed hand- a pocketknife. Quite a beauty it was, being made of silver. And too precious to be put to use.

He looked over the rest of the people on the floor. Another man was leaving, and a kid woke up. Instead of talking to the kid, he opted to locate a box of smokes instead.

What time is it? Wait, no, that doesn't matter, does it?

Concentrating on the voice was difficult. It went on and on, talking about impossible things; things that proved to be true, but that didn't make her any more eager to listen to it.

Her ring was there. The letter too. And- wait, there were two letters. Huh.

...these could wait. She stuffed everything in her pockets, then started paying attention to the other people in the room. One left quickly. The others stayed.

Fourteen people. I've got to kill two of them. I think I get it.

She didn't speak. Someone else could do that first. Right now, she was fine where she was.

Gauze walked down the Chicago street until he found the nearest payphone. After inserting two coins, he dialed in the telephone number and waited until someone picked up. Gauze exhaled slowly as the dial tone played.

click

"Rules say that I have to kill my target before thirty days are up," he said, leaning against the side of the booth. "What happens if someone else mistakenly kills my target? Do I just give up, seeing as I can't kill a dead person?"

edited 2nd Apr '12 2:28:51 PM by Chubert

"Hrrrnggg..." The biggest "contestant" there, a man of about thirty-five in a big coat, groaned and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He looked around at the people seated in the speakeasy. Strangely, the first thing he noticed was not that he had a ring, or a Sheriff's badge, or that the radio was oddly high-fidelity: it was that the speakeasy had been raided by the cops, methodically disassembled in a routine bust. The Sheriff—A good name, one of power and respect, authority, and goodness, something the man instinctively felt he valued—examined the room around him. Smiling sarcastically and leaning back in his chair, he said, "Hello there. I figure before we get to killing eachother we get acquainted. Wouldn't want to replicate the impersonal nature of a war I don't remember fighting in but that I remember taking place."

He took the letter out of his pocket and flipped through it. Yep, everything there was in order; his ring name, his target's ring, his power, and the phone number. His voice became more earnest, and had a subtly threatening edge to it. "Or, better yet, we don't participate in the game, I bump off anyone who tries to kill anyone else like the Sheriff I allegedly am, and we get along all Jake and ducky, right?"

"Agh, couldn't you have waited an hour or something?! Seriously, I just laid down for a nap!" the same voice from the radio answered, much more irate than she previously was, "Hmph. As for you're question. . . Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and see, eh? I don't want to ruin all of the surprises in my game! Games are so much more fun when there are surprises involved!"

edited 2nd Apr '12 2:38:46 PM by Motree

Oh, the first idiot had sobered up. She waited a bit, thinking. No one else seemed about to reply.

"...so who's your Apostle?"

edited 4th Apr '12 7:59:49 AM by Dealan

"Right. Do you like watching people kill themselves, or is the voyeuristic pleasure maximized when it's people killing each other? Or does either one work for you? I apologize for the personal questions, but hey, maybe you undressed me; you definitely felt around in my pockets, so I feel as if I should reciprocate the personal relationship that we've established."

The man sat up quickly as soon as the voice finished talking. The look on his face was neutral as he digested the information. Then he reached into his pocket, drawing out the trinket. It was a flawless diamond, reflecting the light around him prettily.

Hmm. Well, that wasn't much of a thing to name yourself after! All the gamemaster had left him with was a chunk of shiny rock! That was rather petty of her.

Still, it wasn't like he had other options. Rock it was.

And then that big man- who was calling himself Sheriff, apparently- spoke. And Rock's face burst into a wide, friendly, grin.

And when the second person spoke- a girl- the grin got even wider.

"Yes! Beautiful! It is Best if we find a Solution that Pleases Everybody, isn't it? Yes, let's all get along in the name of Peace and Friendship! Truely, that's the Best Way Forward!" Something about his tone- and the energetic gestures he made throughout- made the capitalization obvious. And though there wasn't the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice, something about his word choice made it difficult to believe that there wasn't any intended.

"But that Young Lady also raises an Interesting Point- if we are to Build a Foundation of Trust Between Us, a Show of Good Faith must be made. And for those who have no interest in Participating, there's no real point in secrery, is there? Keeping secrets from your Allies will Only Breed Distrust, after all!"

edited 2nd Apr '12 2:50:57 PM by Gilphon

"Then who wants to be in on this and who doesn't?" Sheriff asked to the room, gesturing to all present. "I wouldn't want to force anyone to do anything they wouldn't want to."

After the radio shut off, all the young man heard, was the opening and closing of a door. He reached into his pocket and felt around for the objects that the voice had spoken of. He opened his eyes, and looked down at the small ring in his hand, and then he read the letter. He returned the two objects, alongside the still unopened envelope (As he didn't really see the need in counting cash at the moment) back into the pocket from which they came. He then reached into his other pocket, and pulled out a small piece of metal. He immediately identified it as a sprocket. He spent a good few moments, lying there on the floor, trying to come up with an imaginative name for himself, but only drew blanks. Frustration finally kicked in, and he decided to lazily dub himself as Sprocket.

With that, he slowly raised himself off the floor, and dusted off his nice black suit. For some reason, he didn't feel bothered by the fact that he couldn't remember who he was. He then looked around the room at the other 'players' and made special note of the man who claimed to be a sheriff. It was then that a true beauty caught his eye.

Laying there on the ground, all alone in her wonderfulness, was a black tribly. It was only about a foot from where he had just been laying, and it was then that he realized it was his. He hand was tingly as he reached for it. He felt that in that instant someone would wake up and remember the hat belonging to them and claim it. But no one did, and Sprocket couldn't have been happier. He placed the hat upon his head, and all in the world felt so right. It was then that he looked in the mirror and saw how bad the expression on his face looked.

While picking up his beloved hat, Sprocket had paid no mind too the girl who had decided to speak, but found it impossible to do so with this third person who was speaking with odd emphasis on random words. The Sheriff also spoke again, Sprocket was a little confused to answer. He silently waited to see what the others would do.

An old man opens his eyes, listening to the voice, Damn young people! Can't you treat your elders with respect!

...

...Ha! Gets me every time. She sounds like a wonderful person. He removes from his pockets the ring, Hmm... Nah, it wouldn't fit, the letter, I shouldn't read this here..., and a bag, wonder what's in here... The man opens it. Silver denarians? He begins carefully counting them, maintaining a calm appearance as his heart raced, 28, 29, 30... Thirty pieces of silver. Fitting. Don't know why, though. I guess I'm Judas Iscariot. Heh, that should confuse people. Judas pockets the letter, slips on the ring, and rises with the thirty pieces of silver in one hand. Now to have some fun with them. The young are so fun to mess with. He speaks loudly without yelling, "Ah, that was quite the nap. Wonderful day, today, isn't it, daddy-os?"

That kid's enthusiasm necessitated a simple glare from him as he came up from behind the bar, a pack of Lucky Strikes and lighter in hand.

He needed a name. He apparently knew Greek, and thought back to the pocketknife. What came to mind was the word 'asimi'. There. He had a name.

Sheriff spoke, and Asimi was left with a sense of unease that just made him not want to answer. The old man didn't seem any better. He responded by lighting up a smoke and coming out from behind the bar.

Sprocket, as impatient as he was realizing he was, could not take it any more, and addressed the Sheriff.

"In on what?"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The calm chatter from the radio and the group was broken up by a very loud scream. A young girl, not even remotely content with sitting down or staying still was screaming at the top of her lungs, running around.

"You fellas are crazy to think this is okay! I don't know from nothing about what's going on...and I'm not looking to find out."

She eventually gave up looking for an exit. She was a young girl with slightly long and wavy brown hair. She looked angry but her extremely adorable face wasn't doing any favors for her tough look. She looked at the items the girl on the radio said she had. There were all right there.

"This ain't the kind of place for a young girl... I want my mom..."

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:25:28 PM by Saturn

A stain in the cardboard box caught his attention. Its scent was distantly...fruity.

Since even his name eluded him, he might as well give himself a nickname. For some reason, choosing a real name felt...wrong. So he went with Blue. He mouthed the word. It rolled off his tongue well. It was doubtful his real name was remotely close to that, but it suited him well.

Blue slipped the trinket into one of his bigger pockets and examined the ring. A name gleamed inside it. No. Not his name either.

Cautiously, he slipped the ring onto his pointer finger and went to opening the letter. The flap came off rather neatly, revealing a letter.

He took a few steps back. Keeping one eye on the group, he began ready it.

What a crazy crowd, Blue thought. I wonder who I should—

Oh, hell.

He knew what kind of person he had to ally with if he wanted to survive.

He stayed a couple of feet away from everyone else to let the action unfold. If someone snapped and decided to attack somebody, his chances of dying was almost nil—

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

What the hell was with that girl?

Yes. Everything was crazy.

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:23:23 PM by chihuahua0

Judas sticks his cane out in an attempt to trip the yelling young girl as she ran in circles.

The girl tripped over the cane, falling on her face.

"That wasn't nice..."

Blue further examined the girl and the old man.

The former was probably his age. While she looked decent, her first actions suggested hysteria. Immaturity. A burden.

On the other hand, the old man was most likely going to be grumpy. And possibly senile.

"You shouldn't be tripping anyone with that cane," Blue said to the old man. "We don't want any blood shedding here."

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:28:53 PM by chihuahua0

Judas grins, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you there over the annoying yell that was permeating this room that seemed to be coming from a dying animal of some type." Judas swings his cane at Blue, stopping it inches from his face, "That's no way to speak to your elders. I expect respect!"

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:30:00 PM by deathpigeon

She turned to Blue, who from her perspective, was sticking up for her. She blushed, then growled under her breath, and scrunched up her face, standing up and walking over to the Judas and looking him right in the eye.

"I'm not dyin' animal! Imma girl! I'm not afraid to hit an old man! Especially one so mean!"

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:31:09 PM by Saturn

Blue crossed his arms and shook his head in disapproval. "Are you two intentionally trying to raise hell here?"

The dusty surroundings...seemed uncanny.

edited 2nd Apr '12 3:32:00 PM by chihuahua0

Asimi had to resist the urge to point and laugh. Fuck kids. The fact that she acted far too young for her age was another point against her. Stifling a grin, he stepped closer so he could watch.