For the Elite and the Forgotten

  It all began when someone left the window open.

  Autumn winds carried laughter through the air as children leaped in piles of leaves. The sun sank beneath clouds of grey, dyeing my windowsill hues of orange and red. This scene would be familiar if not for the navy envelope on the windowsill, absorbing all light it encountered. I receive neither mail nor messages, the fortunate consequence of being a recluse. Such a life has left me deprived of interaction, save for my landlord’s monthly visits to confirm my body isn’t decomposing on her couch. Perhaps she left the window ajar to avoid mould growth. Bothersome woman.

  I unsealed the strange mail on my desk. The envelope held a receipt with a single phrase on the back: For the elite and the forgotten. My eyes skimmed over the contents of the receipt, searching for an explanation. Groceries bought at the nearest supermarket. It was odd, but not as concerning as the date. The receipt read October 18, 9:52 p.m. Three nights from today. An invitation, one that I was too intrigued to decline. I closed the window and went to sleep.

  Days later, I arrived at the supermarket. I’d frequented it in the past, but I was oblivious to its current state. The glass doors were grimy, the walls greyed with age. A store with no purpose, fallen to ruin and forgotten by passersby. No different than I. For the elite and the forgotten. The silver padlocks on the doors shone bright, contrasting the decrepit supermarket. Before I had a chance to enter, my vision blackened.

  I awoke to darkness and felt around me, my memory void of what had happened. I ran my fingers across the floor before wrapping them around an object. A phone. As I brought it to my face, the screen blinked red, words appearing.

  Mission: Take an item of value.

  Reward: Prestige V

  The room brightened as lights turned on. I hastily pocketed the phone, observing my surroundings. Across from me lay a suited man, his head shiny with perspiration. We were confined in a doorless room. My mind wandered as I analyzed my current situation. Had I been invited to participate in a game? Why me? What purpose did I serve? I shouldn’t be here, my instincts cried out. I ignored it. My blood thundered in my ears, my heart racing with adrenaline. I weighed my options. Criminal was stamped next to my name, and finding a job was near impossible with neither family nor references. Selling lost items I’d found at the park had provided only a few months of rent. This game could be my only chance to start life anew. I couldn’t be forgotten; not here, not now.

  I lifted my companion’s sleeve to check for a pulse. Beneath the navy of his blazer was a gold watch, shinier than his head. An item of extreme value. Plucking off the watch, I watched the words on my phone screen change. Rank: Prestige V. I’d completed the mission. My vision blackened, and I fainted once more.

  This process repeated several times more. I completed crimes in succession, losing consciousness and waking up in another mission room. I lied to and robbed companions to complete missions. How much time had passed? It didn’t matter. My rewards were plentiful, and my ambition grew. What matter was theft if I was rewarded a meal or a bed? What worth was a pawn in the presence of a king? We all started from the same place, with the same invitation, but only I grew more powerful. I climbed up the ranks, and once I’d reached Prestige II, I received a message.

  Final Mission: Destroy the crown.

  Reward: Prestige I, one billion dollars.

  My eyes widened at the reward. The previous prizes were hardly worth anything. Considering how long I’d been playing, this upgrade was long overdue. This was something of monetary value, something that could give me a life of luxury, one where I’d be remembered. The mission was eerily different from the previous ones, but who would complain about such an easy task? Certainly not me.

  The lights turned on, blinding me once more. A woman sat on the opposite side of the room, eyeing a paper crown between us. Her shabby coat suggested her rewards were of little worth. Perhaps another low-ranker; I’d hardly break a sweat fighting her. I wasted no time and lunged towards the crown. She stared, unconcerned.

  “You misunderstand,” she said.

  Something was amiss. Wasn’t I about to win? Why wasn’t she making any effort to stop me? I backed against the wall, the crumpled crown in my fist.

  “A final mission wouldn’t be so easy.” She reached into her pocket, and lurched forward. Before I could run, cool steel struck the back of my head.

  “You’ve grown comfortable, taking everything at face value. What worth is prestige when we all bleed red?” asked the woman, tossing the hammer at my feet. “There’s more than one crown in this room, isn’t there?” She pried the bloody crown from my hands and placed it atop her head, laughing.

  For one last time, I lost consciousness.