Title: A Game of Desperation: Ethan’s Choice

Ethan had just started his new job, barely two hours in, when he was abruptly fired for a simple act of honesty. What stung more than the dismissal was the pressing question: how would he now pay for his wife’s critical surgery?

At 71, Ethan—a retired Army mechanic—had felt a sense of dignity as he stocked the shelves of a local department store. His joints ached, and his back strained, but the pride of working again outweighed the discomfort.

As he adjusted the last box of toys, a sharply dressed man approached the counter with a puzzled expression.

“Excuse me, could you tell me the price of this toy?” the man asked the store manager, squinting at a limited-edition box. “Forgot my glasses.”

“Certainly, sir. That’ll be $800,” the manager replied confidently.

Ethan blinked in disbelief. That couldn’t be right. He had just arranged that item and remembered it being marked at $200. He double-checked the tag—he was right.

“Sir,” Ethan said cautiously, approaching the manager. “I think there’s an error—the price should be $200.”

The manager’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s new here,” he told the customer tersely. “The toy is $800. It’s limited edition.”

Ethan’s gut twisted. He couldn’t watch someone get swindled, so he addressed the customer politely, suggesting the manager might have mixed up the prices amidst the busy restocking.

The manager’s fury erupted.

“This is how you repay me for hiring you when no one else would?” he snapped. “Undermining me in front of customers on your first day? You're fired. Leave. Now.”

Ethan pleaded. He told the manager about his wife's worsening condition, her urgent need for an organ transplant. But it made no difference.

“Out—before I call security,” the manager barked.

Devastated and ashamed, Ethan left. He wandered the streets, his eyes scanning for “Now Hiring” signs in cafes and corner stores. But doors kept closing on him.

The next morning, a strange envelope appeared in Ethan’s mailbox. No return address—just “To Ethan” scribbled on the front.

He opened it carefully. Inside was a wad of crisp hundred-dollar bills and a note:

“The $70,000 is for your wife’s surgery. It’s yours. But there’s more—$500,000 more. Come to Jefferson Park tonight at midnight. Come alone.”

Stunned, Ethan clutched the envelope. The money was real. He counted it three times. Then, without wasting a second, he called his wife’s doctor.

“I have the funds,” he said.

But the doctor’s tone dimmed his brief hope.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” he said gently. “Costs have risen. We’ll need an additional $30,000. And time is not on our side.”

Ethan sat down, crushed. The envelope, once his salvation, was now a partial remedy. He had no choice but to attend the mysterious midnight meeting.

That night, the park was deserted and unnervingly still. Then headlights flashed behind him, and a masked figure emerged from the darkness, throwing a black sack over his head.

“Let go of me!” Ethan shouted. But no one heard.

He was shoved into a van, sandwiched between two silent men. Something cold pressed against his side—he dared not move.

They drove for what felt like hours before reaching a run-down building. When the sack was removed, Ethan found himself in a grimy, abandoned factory. Nine other strangers stood near ten beds, each with identical black uniforms folded neatly on top.

A voice boomed from a speaker:

“You are here because you're desperate. You need money. This is your opportunity. Suit up. The game begins soon.”

Everyone looked equally terrified. Phones and watches had been taken. Time was meaningless now. After what felt like an eternity, a man in a gas mask entered.

“Follow him,” the voice commanded.

They were led into a narrow room. Their right hands were cuffed to chains bolted into the wall. In front of them: a wooden board with hundreds of dangling keys.

“Welcome to Task One,” the voice echoed. “Unlock yourselves within ten minutes. Or face the consequence. Your time starts... now!”

Chaos erupted as participants scrambled for keys. Ethan, recalling his Army training, quickly rallied them.

“Pass the keys along. Toss used ones in the center,” he instructed. “We’ll find the right ones faster.”

Four participants escaped in five minutes. Then three more.

Ethan, an elderly man, and a woman remained.

With less than a minute to go, Ethan unlocked his chain. But instead of leaving, he helped the older man. They were almost done when a siren blared.

Guards entered. “You two—out. Now.”

Ethan looked back as the woman reached out in panic. The door slammed shut.

Then a gunshot echoed through the hallway.

“She... she didn’t make it,” a voice choked out. Horror spread among the group. They realized they were part of something far more sinister than a “game.”

Locked in their dorm again, they were now under constant watch.

Later that night, Ethan approached the guard and asked to use the restroom. The guard followed him.

Inside the stall, Ethan turned on the faucet, quietly removed his shoes, and slipped into the adjacent stall.

When the guard burst in, finding only empty shoes, Ethan struck—knocking him unconscious.

He changed into the guard’s uniform, restrained the real guard, and left the bathroom in disguise. As he wandered the dim corridors, he passed another guard.

“Where’re you off to?” the guard asked.

“Boss’s orders. Scanning for anomalies,” Ethan replied confidently.

The man nodded, and Ethan moved on.

In a dark office, he found an old rotary phone and dialed 911.

That’s when the door opened. Ethan froze.

It was the man from the store—the one who had asked about the toy.

“You again?” Ethan whispered. “Why are you doing this?”

The man smirked. “Curious, aren’t you, Ethan? This isn’t just a game. It’s a spectacle. The wealthy fund this for entertainment. Watching desperate people fight for survival—it thrills them.”

Ethan’s stomach turned.

“Put down the phone. Walk away now, and we’ll give you another $250,000. Your wife gets treated. You live.”

Ethan hesitated—but sirens pierced the night.

Police swarmed the facility. K-9 units led the charge. Officers freed the captives and arrested several organizers. The sick game was over.

A few days later, as Ethan waited outside the hospital, a familiar officer approached him.

“We’ve taken down the entire operation. And because of your bravery—because you risked your life—your wife’s surgery is fully covered.”

Tears welled in Ethan’s eyes. He shook the officer’s hand.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for saving both of us.”