Among Them

“Hello, players! I see you’re all having a nice time.” The voice crackled through the small radio mounted beside the bed and one by one, the players woke inside their cells. Some sat up immediately in panic while others remained frozen beneath the dim white lights, breathing heavily as confusion settled into their minds like a fog. None of them remembered falling asleep and none of them remembered arriving.

“Welcome to the MIRA HQ Research Facility.”

Metal walls surrounded each room. A narrow bed stood against one side of the cell beside a sink and a sealed automatic door. Above every door, a colored light glowed softly.

“You have been selected to participate in an ongoing survival experiment,” The broadcaster continued cheerfully. “Your cooperation is highly appreciated.”

A loud bang echoed from somewhere down the corridor. Someone was already trying to force their door open.

“Player Crimson! Please remain calm...” The voice said. “Panic tends to lower survival rates.”

Silence followed at the end of that sentence. The kind of silence where people begin realizing something is terribly wrong.

“Scattered among you players are three impostors. Your objective is simple: Complete your assigned tasks and survive.”

The broadcaster paused for a bit and then laughed softly through the radio.

“Trust wisely.” He finally said and the radio went silent.

For a moment, nobody moved. A heavy metallic hiss rolled through the corridor as the automatic locks released and the doors opened. Some players rushed out immediately while others hesitated inside their cells, staring into the brightly lit hallway beyond.

The facility was impossibly clean. White walls, white floors and white ceiling lights hummed overhead without a flicker and long black security cameras followed movements from the corners above.

Maroon stepped out carefully into the corridor and meticulously studied his new environment. He tried to reach into his mind to understand how he had gotten here but nothing flashed, it was all blank.

Dozens of others started to leave their rooms now. All of them were wearing clean jumpsuits of various colors. Colors that were now their new identity.

“Shit!” Crimson swore under his breath as he tried to fathom how exactly he got to the facility, and somewhere behind the group, somebody started crying quietly.

“You think any of this is real?” Rose asked quietly as she stood beside Maroon. Maroon took a short look at her and glanced towards the cameras overhead.

“Feels real enough”

Before Rose could respond, another voice suddenly echoed from further down the corridor.

“This is insane!” A player in an amber uniform shouted as he slammed his fist against the wall. “You can’t just kidnap people!”

Several others also began shouting over one another. The panic was already spreading and a riot was surely just around the corner, So Player Olive did what any sensible person would do...

He walked away from the group and most of everyone else was too distracted to even notice who was doing what.

A loud screech suddenly tore through the facility speakers and everyone froze. A huge silence followed and then the scream came. A short, abrupt scream and hiss. Player Ivory came running out of the dark maintenance corridor Olive had gone. His face was pale with horror clearly written on his face. Maroon and Honey rushed to him.

“Olive...” Ivory whispered under his uneven breath.

“Olive?”

“...Olive was killed”

Fear was just at the throats of everyone. They weren’t even an hour into the facility and someone was already killed.

“Let’s go get his body.” Maroon said and turned towards the maintenance corridor but Ivory held him tight and pulled him back.

“There’s no body to recover. He melted to nothing right in front of me!. That monster…that monster turned Olive to a bloody pulp.” Ivory shouted in terror.

The facility speakers crackled softly overhead just as everyone was about to go into a full blown panic.

“Well…” the broadcaster sighed dramatically. “That’s unfortunate. Our friend Olive has officially been confirmed dead” A small chuckle followed echoing through the speakers.

“He will be missed.”

“You bastards!” Crimson swore.

“To maintain stable oxygen levels throughout MIRA HQ, several tasks must now be completed immediately.” The broadcaster continued.

Screens along the lobby’s walls flickered suddenly to life.

TASK ASSIGNMENTS

Maroon and Rose

Reactor Maintenance

Crimson and Ivory

Electrical calibration

Slate and Pearl

Oxygen filtration

“Failure to complete assigned tasks,” the broadcaster said cheerfully, “May result in additional deaths.” The broadcaster concluded and the screens shut off.

Everyone was silent, everyone now knew they were not just in a dangerous situation, they were in a part of hell’s dungeons.

Maroon and Rose both look at each other.

“I guess we’re partners now,” Rose said, trying to force a smile.

The corridor had gone strangely quiet, like the facility itself was waiting to see what they would do next and that silence created awareness. A strange awareness that they were not alone and that among them there was something watching.

Maroon could hear everything around him. The low hum inside the walls, the soft buzz of the ceiling lights and the uneven breathing of the players around him. Forty strangers trapped together, trying not to look afraid. Except for Pearl, she was already going out of her mind.

Rose folded her arms and looked up at the glowing task screen before it faded black.

“Well,” she murmured, “this is definitely the worst group project I’ve ever been assigned.”

Maroon glanced at her “You’ve been assigned tasks before?”

Rose blinked, then she laughed softly. “ You know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“School! Group assignments! People pretending to work while one person suffers alone.” Rose shouted playfully.

A few nearby players overheard and let out nervous laughs. It was never because it was especially funny but because everyone needed something to hold onto before panic returned.

Maroon nodded faintly, though the conversation left something strange sitting in the back of his mind.

Earlier, everyone had been panicking too much to think. Now, the fear was settling into something different. The players had started watching each other, studying the expressions and the movements of one another, trying to figure out which face didn’t belong.

“We have to stay together! We can’t split up. Not after what happened to Olive.” Crimson said loudly, stepping into the middle of the group.

A heavy silence settled over the room.

“No shit, Sherlock. And who exactly made you the leader?” Slate scoffed.

“I'm not trying to be leader!” Crimson shot back. “I’m trying to stay alive.”

Obsidian, leaning against the metallic wall, gave a dry chuckle. “Same thing, usually.”

Crimson turned toward Obsidian, ready to snap back, but he was interrupted.

The speakers crackled overhead once again.

“Oh dear,” the broadcaster sighed. “Tension this early? We’re moving faster than expected.”

“We have questions,” Crimson called.

“Players are reminded to proceed to their assigned task sectors. Failure to complete facility maintenance may negatively affect survival rates.”

A brief pause followed, then a quiet, amused chuckle.

“Though admittedly, the current survival rate is already... disappointing.”

The speaker clicked off and no one spoke for several long seconds.

The weight of the broadcaster’s words settled over the group like a suffocating fog. Whatever doubts they had clung to before were gone. This wasn’t a sick joke or some twisted experiment gone wrong.

It was a life-or-death situation.

And judging by the broadcaster’s amusement, it was more likely to end in death.

Rose gently tugged on Maroon’s sleeve. “We should probably go before creepy voice gets impatient.”

Maroon nodded faintly and together, they started walking down the corridor towards the Reactor Maintenance while the others slowly drifted to their own assigned sectors.

The deeper they moved into MIRA HQ, the colder the facility felt. Cold intense air mixed with feeling that one was being constantly watched.

The bright white walls stretched endlessly ahead of them, interrupted only by security cameras and long black windows that revealed nothing beyond the glass except darkness.

Everything was spotless. Too spotless

Something about how clean the facility was felt like it was carefully prepared long before they arrived. Like this was not the first time they had thrown people into this hell of a program. Maroon was heavily sickened by it.

Meanwhile, Rose glanced sideways at him as they walked.

“You’ve been quite quiet...”

“I don’t really know what to say,” Maroon admitted.

“Fair.”

Just as they neared Reactor Maintenance, something slammed against the metal walls.

Both of them froze.

The lights overhead flickered, and the corridor plunged into darkness for half a second before the power stabilized.

Then, somewhere deeper within the facility...

Something moved.

“Did you see that?” Maroon asked.

Rose nodded. “It looked like one of us... It’s probably just another player.”

Maroon looked at Rose before glancing back toward the spot.

Yes, it had looked like a player.

But something about it didn’t sit right with him.

The figure had been human in shape, yet its abrupt, almost unnatural movements, told a different story.

“Let’s just finish our task and head back to the group,” Maroon said, pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

They reached the sector and immediately got to work.

Rose lubricated the motor bearings, checked the gear couplings, and inspected the agitator impellers for vibrations or abnormal sounds. Every so often, she glanced over her shoulder, wary of what might be lurking in the shadows.

Meanwhile, Maroon serviced the process valves, tested the safety valves, and replaced the O-rings to prevent catastrophic leaks of the hazardous materials the reactor handled. Every hiss of escaping pressure made him tense, half expecting it to become a scream.

As Maroon worked, his thoughts kept drifting back to the figure they had seen.

Something about it bothered him.

The feeling refused to leave. It gnawed at the back of his mind, growing stronger with each passing second. He couldn’t explain it, but he had the sinking feeling that someone was in danger.

“Rose! We need to follow it.”

“Follow what?” Rose asked, confusion written plainly across her face.

“The figure. You stay here.”

Before she could respond, Maroon bolted from the room.

He sprinted down the corridor, following the path where they had seen the figure disappear.

Moments later, he rounded a corner and froze.

Ivory stood over Crimson, knife in hand, poised to strike.

“What the hell are you doing?” Maroon shouted as he rushed forward, driving a hard kick into Ivory and knocking him away from Crimson.

Ivory recovered with unnatural speed and lunged at Maroon, knife first.

Crimson intercepted him and his fist crashed square into Ivory’s face, sending him stumbling backward onto the floor.

Ivory climbed to his feet and let out a low, menacing laugh. His eyes remained fixed on Crimson and Maroon with an intensity that made neither of them move.

The two instinctively squared up, bracing for another attack.

But Ivory never charged.

Instead, he turned and sprinted down the hallway with terrifying speed, disappearing around the corner and leaving Crimson and Maroon staring after him in stunned silence.

“We have to inform the others,” Maroon said.

Crimson nodded, and the two of them hurried back to the lobby.

When they arrived, Maroon spotted Rose. She had apparently finished her task and returned to rejoin the others.

“Everyone!” Crimson called, his voice echoing through the lobby. “Listen to me. Ivory has been confirmed as an impostor. He nearly killed me, but thanks to Maroon, I’m still standing here.”

At that moment, Ivory stepped into the lobby.

Maroon’s heart skipped a beat.

Something wasn’t right.

He looked... normal.

Nothing about him resembled the crazed attacker they had fought only moments earlier.

But before anyone could react, three of the other players rushed forward.

One grabbed Ivory’s knife hand, another pinned his arms behind his back, while the third forced him to his knees.

“What the hell is going on?” Ivory asked, his eyes wide with shock. He struggled against their grip but made no attempt to attack.

“Don’t start pretending, Ivory. You know what you did,” Crimson snapped.

“What do you mean?”

“You tried to kill me a few minutes ago, you damn bastard!” Crimson shouted.

Before anyone could stop him, Crimson stepped forward and drove his fist into Ivory’s face.

Ivory’s head snapped to the side as blood dripped from his split lip.

“Are you out of your bloody mind?” Ivory shouted, struggling against their grip.

“No, I’m not! Maroon was with me. If he hadn’t shown up, you could’ve killed me, you lying psycho!”

“What do you mean? I literally left you there.”

“Like I’m supposed to believe that when you were standing over me, about to stab me with that bloody knife of yours. Say something, Maroon!” Crimson turned toward him.

Maroon looked around at everyone for a few seconds, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I did see Ivory try to kill Crimson. But seeing him now... something doesn’t feel right. His behaviour doesn’t match the Ivory I saw back there.”

“What if he’s pretending?” Crimson argued.

“I see no reason for him to come back here if he actually tried to kill you,” Obsidian interrupted. “If he wanted you dead, why return to a room full of witnesses?”

Crimson walked up to Obsidian until they were nearly face to face.

“Were you deaf when the broadcaster said the impostors were among us?”

“I saw his face. Plain as day.”

Crimson’s voice hardened.

“I know it was Ivory. Ivory is an impostor!”

The speakers abruptly crackled to life, cutting through the heated argument.

“I see you’ve got yourselves a suspect...” the broadcaster said, followed by a soft, amused chuckle. “How amusing.”

“Well, we do, and he’s no suspect,” Crimson shot back. “It’s Ivory.”

“Move Player Ivory to the circle in the center,” the broadcaster instructed, his voice calm and authoritative.

The players hesitated for a second, confused and oblivious to what the broadcaster was trying to do. Nevertheless, they moved Ivory to the circle at the center of the lobby and released him.

But Ivory didn’t run.

He remained where he was, not because he was courageous, but because he had no idea what was about to happen.

A glass tube slowly emerged from the outline of the circle, steadily rising around him.

Ivory’s instincts screamed at him to move.

He couldn’t.

It was as though his legs no longer belonged to him, and all he could do was watch as the glass tube climbed above his head, sealing him inside.

“If you are in favor of Ivory being an impostor, step forward,” the broadcaster commanded. “Keep in mind, once you have voted, there’s no going back.”

One by one, the players stepped forward until roughly twenty-five of them had cast their vote, leaving only fourteen standing behind. Maroon was among the few who still believed Ivory was not an impostor.

“It appears you’ve lost the vote, Ivory. Beneath you is a pit approximately sixty feet deep. I’m afraid you won’t be surviving that.”

The broadcaster paused for a brief moment.

“Any last words for the crew?”

Despair filled Ivory’s eyes.

He desperately tried to move, but his body refused to obey. His life was truly about to come to an end.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as countless thoughts raced through his mind.

Finally, he looked up at Crimson...

...and smiled.

“I hope you die.”

The circle beneath him split apart, and Ivory plunged into the pit.

For a few agonizing seconds, there was only silence.

Then came the sickening sound of his body crashing into the ground far below. Only after the echo faded did the floor seal itself once more, the glass tube lowering back into place as though nothing had happened.

The broadcaster, on the other hand, chuckled softly before bursting into laughter.

The screens flickered to life, and an image of Ivory appeared on every display.

Beneath it were the words:

“IVORY WAS NOT AN IMPOSTOR.”

Silence consumed the lobby and the broadcaster’s laughter gradually died away.

“Fools.”