--- -A/N- Just updated, taken advice from reviews. Reread everything for it to all make sense (Rules have changed a bit). R&R, please! ---
John woke up suddenly, in a dark, unfamiliar place. He bolted upright, looking around. He was in something that had been abandoned, alright. It had been abandoned for a while, based off of the looks of it. It may have been a hospital room at one point, the floors and walls were tiled. Everything was dirty, like it hadn't been used in years. The lights came from above, but something was blocking their way, making eerie shadows in the room. Whatever was blocking them had a glare on it, and it was hitting John in the face. There was a counter to the left of him, and two doors.
"Hey, the other guy's up."
John spun around, and found two other men in the room with him. They were dressed in business suits, and looked as if they had been tied to a horse that dragged them along the ground for miles. The one on the left was a bit overweight, and sat there staring. The other one was a bit livelier, and was talking, and yanking on something— he was chained by his two legs and the right arm to some kind of metal contraption, and he notcied the other man was as well.
Each of the chains was connected to the wall. The ones connected to their legs were connected where the wall met the ground, about a foot apart. The arms were chained higher up, about two feet up off the ground. The chains were set about three feet apart. John noticed something that bothered him: There was alot of old, dried pooled blood where the two men were sitting.
"Wha—what?" John asked.
"I said, get the tape!" The man barked back.
"Wh—what tape?" John asked.
"F-ing retard!" the man said. "Behind you!" he yelled.
"And just who the hell are you?" John asked.
"Hotel tycoon Michael Burnhurst. Just get the tape."
John turned around and looked at the counter. Sure enough, there was a tape on it, along with a tape player. He put the two together, and hit play. The eerie voice played:
"Hello there. I'd like to play a game."
"Great..." Michael said.
"Hotel tycoons Michael Burnhurst and Timmothy Johnstein, I have seen what you have done. What you have done to that poor man. Jimmy Steinbeck, was it? He was a guest of yours, at your hotel. You knew he was a millionaire, and when he booked that playboy suite you couldn't resist, could you?"
Michael turned pale. White, even. He was the whitest thing in the filthy, dark room. "No...No!" Michael shouted. The tape didn't stop for him.
"You pretended to be trapped underneath your car, didn't you? You asked for his help then, didn't you? And what happened then? Refresh my memory, please."
There was a pause for a minute.
"Ah, yes," It continued. "You pulled him under the car. You ran him over, and stuck his legs in the engine underneath, right. And nailed his arms to the tires. And to make sure he didn't say anything...you slit his throat just enough to silence him, but you intentionally missed is major arteries. After that, you have no right to call me merciless.
"Rules of the game. One, there shall be no cheating. Cheating results in a slow, painful and nearly inevitable death. Two, there must be somebody chained up to the wall at all times. The sets can fit either one or two.
"Three. One person in here is innocent. See to it that the guilty are punished, but the innocent isn't harmed at all. You see two doors here. The one on the wall to your right leads to freedom. The one on the wall in fron of you leads to the 200 million dollars that you guys stole. In cash. Do not go in there, whatever you do. Rule number four, is to choose wisely. In fifteen minutes whoever is in this room will die. How, you ask? Simple. Do you see above you the steak knives? Like the kind you used to silence poor Jimmy Steinbeck? There are 400 of them right above you, and they will all drop the instant the timer runs out, or if the chains are not holding something for more than fifteen seconds. The keys are in John's pockets. He has the choice to let you live. Protect him, for he is innocent. He is a good man, and always helps someone in need. You have fifteen minutes, gentlemen. Follow the rules."
John looked up and got a good look at what was in blocking the lights above, and was overcome by fear. He nearly puked, the fear was so bad. He sat there, stunned. Was he really expected to make such a decision? To help these people escape?
