A player arrives in style for the start of the ‘Most Deadly Game’:
By noon time, the car pulled up to a hilltop hacienda. The driver blipped the throttle of the engine, to announce his arrival, just as he switched off. He listened to the sound from the tailpipes echo off the stucco walls of the sprawling ranch house. Getting out, he looked over at the other cars, parked nearby on the circular gravel driveway.
Four black Mercedes stretch limousines were on one side of him, a Bentley Continental four-seater convertible, a Lamborghini Reventon Roadster, a Maybach 57S and an Austin Martin V8 Vantage roadster were on the other side, (also with their tops down). The man smiled to himself as he reached behind the driver’s seat of the Ferrari and pulled out a small travel bag. He carried the bag and the smile with him into the house. He was very pleased to see that he had won the first competition of the day. He had brought the most expensive car.
The man servant, who greeted him at the door, offered to carry the bag, but the man declined the offer. He was then led out into the courtyard where a number of white linen covered, small, round cafe tables were set out. The man was directed to the remaining vacant table. A short, stocky man, in his thirties with shoulder length black hair and a thin moustache stood, just outside of the tiled area, where the tables were set out. He unfolded his arms and addressed the group.
“Now we can begin this Most Deadly Game,” he said in a loud voice with a tinge of a Spanish accent. “The first thing I will remind you of is to respect the confidentiality and anonymity of your fellow competitors. Because of this, no names are to be used among yourselves today. You will be referred to by the number on the vest you have been issued. I, on the other hand, you may call El Capitáin. I now, direct your attention to the bag on the extra chair at your table. Please open it and I will take you through each of the items.”