THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE DEATH GAME
The Liar's Gambit
The lights snapped on with a mechanical buzz, flooding the vast chamber in stark white light. The players blinked against the sudden brightness. For the first time, they saw their surroundings clearly: a towering grid of transparent cubicles — one hundred in total — arranged in perfect rows and columns, ten by ten. Each contained a single player, isolated but visible to the others. The walls were thick glass, cold and impersonal. Each cubicle bore a number: 1 to 100.
Then, a voice boomed through hidden speakers — calm, confident, and chilling.
"Welcome to Lier's Gambit. I will now explain the rules."
At the far end of the chamber stood a raised podium, sleek and metallic. Upon it stood the game master, dressed in an immaculate black suit, flanked by three motionless referees in masks. The game master smiled, eyes scanning the crowd like a conductor before an orchestra.
"The first rule," he continued, "is simple. If any of you exit your cubicles you will be executed."
A ripple of disbelief passed through the players. Number 1, a young man with messy brown hair and a sarcastic edge to his voice, stepped forward and shouted, "What are you talking about? I was told this was a game show! A chance to win twenty-two million dollars!"
The game master's smile didn't falter. "Absolutely," he said. "That prize remains. Twenty-two million dollars awaits the winner. But your life?" He leaned closer to the microphone. "That was never guaranteed."
The room fell into stunned silence. Anger and confusion brewed like a storm.
Number 3, a stocky man with a shaved head, banged on the glass of his cubicle. "You lied to us! This is illegal!"
Several others joined in. Number 97, a tall woman with fierce eyes; 90, a man who looked more soldier than civilian; 94, quiet but intense. And number 2
In unison, the six of them made a decision. They stepped out of their cubicles — defiant, determined to confront the podium and demand answers. The soft hiss of hydraulic doors accompanied their rebellion.
Number 90 shouted, "This is injustice! I swear I'll—"
Crack. Crack. Crack.
The gunshots echoed before the sentence could finish.
The game master's smile disappeared as he gave a single word:
"Eliminated."
The referees raised their pistols and fired without hesitation. One by one, the players dropped. Blood smeared the sterile white floor. The others could only watch in horror, trapped in their cells, unable to help.
Welcome to the Liar games
94 players remaining.