A Gentleman's Game

"There was only one rule: don’t open the door. Let me clarify that last statement. Don't open the wrong door."

Winston Thrope III stood on a balcony above eight dishevelled people who gathered in the dome. "There are thirty-two doors but only one exit. Therefore, one person shall leave here alive. You will take turns opening them one at a time, your shirts are tagged with the designated order."

Number three yelled. "What the Fuck is this bullshit, I'm not playing your fucking game." And with that he walked to the nearest door and opened it. His body was ripped apart before their eyes. Blood and pieces of gelatine like matter soaked into the sandy floor.

Cutting through the hysterical screams Winstons voice rang out. "Now, that is a shame. The game has not yet begun and already we are down one."

As pandemonium ensued below, Winston shook his head in frustration. "People, please try to act civil, this is a gentlemen’s game after all. We added an extra incentive in case you don’t wish to participate.”

The upper dome lights burst on, displaying children, alive but crucified to crosses. “Should you refuse, we pick a door and your child will be placed in front of it.”

One of the spectators who stood with Winston shouted. "This is an outrage, my champion has been eliminated before we began, I demand to choose another."

While the others laughed, Winston shook his head. "I am terribly sorry Montague, rules are rules."

Winston continued. "We shall commence shortly. You will have one minute to choose a door and continue until there is a winner, who shall be allowed to leave with their child. The remaining survivors, if any, will remain for the next round. Now, let the fun begin."