Author Games Compilation [Cycle 1]

Task 6 - Russian Roulette (AR)

big gap up here because Wattpad formatting has gone to shit and won't let me fix it. whoops.

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The world was white. Just a pure, blank whiteness that blinded Aikin, seared his eyes with white-hot light. He blinked repeatedly, wishing the sun away, wishing his circumstance away. But no wishing could help him, it never had before. So he brought his arm up to shield his eyes from the piercing brightness.

But what he found instead of shadow was immobility; his arm remained where it was, and as he felt around he discovered it was an armrest. Cold metal lay over his wrist in a cuff. He was restrained, shackled once more to the arena. And here I thought the Games would let us roam free and kill each other. But nope, it's all a puzzle, just one big, unsolvable puzzle, and only one of us is allowed to solve it.

His eyes eventually adjusted to the lighting, and he was in a white room, lights glowing bright above his head. Before him was a long metal table, and at the very end, across from the utterly confused Aikin, was a woman, drenched entirely in black. Her face was the only area left untouched by black lace, a veil flipped over the back of her fiery red hair. It looked as though she'd just came back from a gothic wedding. I wonder if the groom ended up with a slit throat after his vows. She seems like the type to gut her husband. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time I've thought this. 

The vampire-bride broke the silence. "Aikin." Her voice immediately captivated the tribute. "Do not fret. I am only here to further your...experience here."

Aikin's mind traveled in a hundred directions at once, unease inching its way through his system. It hit a spike when she rolled her tongue over her lips, giving a polite - but cold - smile. This Bride from Hell...can't trust her. Not at all. 

Sexy-demon leaned forward, a sly glint in her eyes. "You're about to play a game." And then, pulling her hands from the folds in her dress, she placed them on a table. Sitting proud under her fingers was a revolver. "It's an old game called Russian Roulette. You will get the gist of it soon enough..."

Aikin swallowed saliva collecting in his mouth. "What if I don't comply?" Let's hope that didn't sign off my death sentence.

Bridezilla tilted her head, and a set of brown eyes regarded him with curiosity. "Call me the Creator. If you choose to not play my game, I will not hesitate to point this at your forehead and full the trigger. Or, perhaps your dick would suffice, yes?"

Again, Aikin gulped, preferring not to linger on her threat. I think a shot to the head would be preferable compared to a shot to the babymaker. He closed his eyes. "Let's get this over with."

Creator nodded curtly, and popped open the cylinder of the revolver, giving it a nice spin - gotta make sure it's a good spin otherwise our life may end in a burst of gunpowder - before locking the cylinder in place again, pressing the muzzle to her temple. She deadpanned. "There are nine chambers. Eight are empty, one contains a bullet. Each of us will take turns 'shooting' ourselves, four each, and we might live. Understand?"

As soon as Aikin nodded, her finger slammed down on the trigger. A click, just loud enough to be heard, wiggled its way to his eardrums. His heart sunk as he realized the bullet was still inside, ready to pierce his skull. Creator gave a smug grin, sliding the revolver across the table. The sound of it skidding towards him made him bounce his chair back once, on impulse. It came to the pause, and the room went silent. Guess she forgot I'm kind of shackled here. Can't do much.

As if on cue, a pop and hiss came from his left cuff, and he could move. He narrowed his eyes. "What, don't trust me with two hands?"

"You are far too crafty. You can hold the gun, can't you?"