The Inheritance Game - What exactly would you be willing to do for $300 million?

Grandpa Henry was a reclusive man. He didn't just like being left alone, he hated people with a burning passion, something I'm sure was greatly responsible for his ruthless business practices that helped him turn his father's wealth into an eye-popping fortune. Society returned the favour, and he'd turned into an angry, friendless man by the time retirement came calling. Out of work, out of people who gave a ****, stuck in an increasingly loveless marriage, he became more and more like Ebenezer Scrooge as time went by.
After grandma Nancy passed away, he decided he'd had enough of humanity and retreated to his large manor out in the wilderness, away from the prying eyes of his mostly greedy family, rival capitalists and intrusive journalists, fully embracing the hermit lifestyle. So unlike Mr. Scrooge, there was no one around him for miles to try and melt his frigid heart, and he died as he lived, cold and alone.
It had been well over a decade since I'd last seen him. Hell, I was still in highschool at that time my parents dragged me to his palatial house and forced me to smile and deal with his loathsome attitude. He grumbled, picked faults with every little thing my mom did, and went on bizzare bigoted rants. It was just unpleasant. I only realised this morning when I was packing my bags that it was the last time I ever got to meet with him. I couldn't work myself up to tears, but I did feel some semblance of guilt welling within me for completely ignoring him.
It was my dad who told me about his passing. Everybody wanted a slice of the pie that grandpa Henry was going to serve after he died, and my father was no different, being barely able to contain his glee when he invited me to attend his funeral, and more interestingly, the reading of his will later on in the evening.
I had made up my mind to skip the whole thing as I had a very important meeting on the day of the funeral, but mostly because I wanted to avoid the inheritance related family drama that was bound to follow the reading of the will. My girlfriend Allison was the one who made me change my plans, fascinated as she was with the prospect of visiting a Victorian style manor.
"So, is it as beautiful and romantic as you had imagined?" I asked as I drove up the winding road, the tires kicking up dust as they crushed the gravel underneath.
She grinned. "Better."
It truly was a beautiful sight. Undulating hills covered in grass that curved and warped as frosty winds danced on them, rolling hills that surrounded the summit on which Grandpa Henry had built his little palace. I slowed down as we came closer to our destination, taking the time to properly drink in the view. Towering turrets that thrust up into the bright moonlit sky like spears of ancient warriors, arched glass windows proudly looking down upon the well maintained garden enclosed by a sturdy wall that finished its circumscribing journey on a wrought iron gate, it was a place that had stood the test of time, maintaining its dignity and poise throughout. Snow capped peaks that were barely visible at this time of night dotted the distant landscape behind the imposing manor, completing the picturesque scenery.
"Oh my god!" Allison giggled. "Your grandfather even had a butler."
Sure he did. Frank was the only person in the world who could tolerate grandpa's surly and entitled attitude without devolving into fits of uncontrollable rage, or so I'd heard. He fiddled with the buttons of his black suit, and then brought his gloved hand out to open Allison's door when I brought the car to a halt.
"Good evening ma'am." He greeted her warmly, before turning to me. "Good evening sir. Please head to the living room up ahead. Everyone is waiting for you."
I shivered as the cold air stabbed at my skin. "Are we really the last to arrive? ****."
I could hear the murmuring as I hopped the short stairs to the front door. The chattering instantly stopped as I soundlessly pushed the door open, and more than a dozen heads swung in our direction. Wood crackled and burnt in the fireplace, desperately trying to sweep aside the awkward silence with its dying embers. I held the door open, allowing Allison to walk before me, who smiled and thanked me.
"Well, well, well. Looks like the prodigal son has arrived. Finally decided to join us vultures, have you, to see what dear father left for you?"
"Good to see you too, Uncle Freddy." I greeted the blonde, balding man wearing a bright red sweater. My father's youngest brother was as caustic as ever.
"Cut it out Freddy." My mom said as she came and gave me a hug, before helping us put our coats away. I shook my father's hand, waved at my sister and her husband and then went and sat on one of the empty couches, pulling Allison close to me.
"Can we please get started with what we came here for?" Uncle Freddy asked, annoyed. "Jonathan?" He looked at a man in a grey suit who nodded and stood up.
"Good evening everyone." He said as he stood near the fireplace, such that all eyes in the spacious room were on him. "I am Henry's lawyer, here to tell you the terms of his will. I'll keep it simple, since its best not to waste time."
"300 million dollars." He continued. "That is the sum total of Henry's movable and immovable assets, and that is what is at stake here tonight."
Damn. That's a lot of money. Way more than what I was expecting, and if the furious whispers around me were anything to go by, I wasn't the only one feeling this way.
Jonathan cleared his throat and the room went silent again.
"Now. As is written in the will, all of that money will go to the winners of The Inheritance Game that you all will participate in tonight."
"The what?"
"A game?"
"What is the meaning of this?"
"Is this a joke?"
The voices rose, with everyone shouting to make themselves heard over the din which in turn got even louder, increasingly sounding like the buzzing of a giant nest of bees that someone had chucked a stone at. Jonathan tried to get them to quiet down, but no one bothered to listen, so he threw his hands up in frustration and walked out, before coming back in to the room, this time being flanked by two men wearing goat masks and carrying 12 gauge, pump action shotguns.
A sudden, fearful silence fell upon the room like a thick, suffocating shroud as people tried to make sense of this strange sight.
"Now I'll explain the rules of The Inheritance Game to you. Please don't interrupt me. I'll take any questions you have after I'm done speaking." Jonathan said authoritatively.
"Your family is a bit weird." Allison chuckled nervously and I held her hand tightly, in a reassuring manner.
Jonathan began explaining the rules of the game and everyone listened in a shocked silence, barring a few gasps and some "oh my gods" here and some smug, disbelieving snorts there. I'll transcribe the rules here, as best as I remember them.

1. Everyone sitting in the room plays the game, regardless of their age.
2. To win, survive until the crack of dawn at 6:00 AM. The Inheritance money will be split equally among all those who survive.
3. Escaping or attacking the administrators will result in immediate disqualification and on the spot execution. Intentionally damaging the cameras will result in the same.
4. At least one less than half the players must die. If that doesn't happen by the morning, everyone will be executed and the money goes to the board of directors of the company.
5. Each murder costs 10 million dollars, i.e. for each person you directly kill, you lose 10 million dollars of your share of the inheritance money.
6. Weapons can be bought from the inventory shack near the swimming pool in the backyard, using the Inheritance money. Caution - If the amount of money you've spent or lost exceeds the share of the inheritance you'll receive if you survive, then too you shall be executed. On the other hand, your expenses have no impact on the inheritance other surviving players will receive.
7. If more than half of the players agree, some or all of the rest can be removed from the game and executed, and no amount will be deducted from your inheritance. You must get the signatures of the needed number of players on a piece of paper, along with the names of those you want to remove from the game and submit it to the inventory shack.

For a second after Jonathan had finished speaking, we gawped at him in amazement. Then everyone exploded in a thunderous uproar. Fear, disbelief, outrage, one could find every flavour of emotion one can reasonably expect people to have in a situation like this. It was Uncle Mitchell, dad's youngest brother who ended up becoming our unofficial spokesperson, simply because of his volume.
"You can't be ****ing serious Jonathan!" He shouted. "This is a disgusting ****ing joke. Stop this and tell us about the real goddamn will."
"I'm afraid it's no joke." Jonathan replied calmly. "And I shall make a demonstration of the seriousness of your situation."
He signalled at his henchman to his right, who walked up and pulled his gun up.
The shotgun rocked in his hand and boomed, sending up a small cloud of smoke and making me momentarily deaf, and almost instantly Uncle Mitchell's head bloomed into the most grotesque red coloured flower I had ever seen in my life.
And then the screaming started.
M


Source.