Author Games: Ace of Spades

Quarterfinals: Sushi Wasabi Salmon

"Sweetheart, come with me."

Sushi's face was pressed against the cool, smooth pane of glass, one hand curled around the silky material of the velvet curtain, while the other fingered the hundred dollar note she had stolen in her pocket. Outside, the nighttime sky was illuminated by the hundred, thousands, perhaps even millions of lights that forever shone on the building tops of Las Vegas. In the distance, she could even see the logo of the famed Aria Resort and Casino, flickering so brightly that it seemed to be challenging the stars and clouded moon. Despite the garbage that littered the streets, the heavy fog smothered the heavens, and the rain that sprinkled down from above, she could not deny it – the outside was beautiful, and her heart yearned to be set free.

"I can't, Rider. I can't. I'm...I'm scared."

For the briefest second, the thought of grabbing one of the chairs behind her and smashing the window to smithereens crossed her mind, but almost immediately –  even though it pained her so – she scrapped the plan. No doubt, the four Aces were watching her through some hidden security camera, ready to kill if she placed one foot out of line. Back in the days, with Rider Black at her side, guiding her, she had learned to not care about getting out of line. She learned, under his watchful eye, to love the feeling of freedom, to adore the sensation of running, of adrenaline pumping in her veins, outwitting those who wanted to clip her wings and shove her into a cage. She remembered how sometimes, there would be a feeling of guilt gnawing away at her heart, especially when her mother's face appeared on television, begging her to come back. Even hearing the utter brokenness in her parent's voice was enough to send her hurrying to her jacket, but as always, Rider had been there.

"Of what, Sushi?"

He'd said it was going to be okay.

"I don't know. Of everything."

He'd told her that they would be alright.

"You don't have to be afraid."

And like always, she'd believed him.

Perhaps that was the reason why they crashed and burned.

"Why not?"

She stepped back with a small sigh, then turned her attention to the table set before her. Made out of ornate mahogany wood and polished so much until it sparkled in even the dimmest of lights. On its surface lay a silvery-grey briefcase with an ebony handle. Yet, it was neither the briefcase nor the table that caught Sushi's attention the most. Instead, it was the sticky note on top of the briefcase that called to her, inviting and hostile at the same time. Cautiously, the girl moved closer, suddenly aware of how fast her heart was beating, and the way that her breathing hitched so that she now sounded like Cupcake, wheezing from worry and anxiety. One trembling hand reached for the note, gently tugging it off of the briefcase, fingers curling around the paper, damp sweat smearing the ink slightly, before lifting it higher and bringing it closer towards her face. For a few seconds, she simply stared at the words printed on the yellow paper, letters blurring before her eyes, her brain uncomprehensive. Then suddenly, as if slapped across the face by some unseen force, she jerked back to life and the words seemed to jump out of the page, screaming at her, "Would you rather leave this casino as the sole survivor but with the money you desperately need, or leave the casino with all remaining players alive but as poor as you were when you came in?"

"Because you're one of us, Sushi."

Her throat constricted as she fumbled with the silver lock, swiftly flipping it open nimble fingers, only to step back and let her breath be taken away by what was sitting in front of her. The hundred dollar bill she had stolen from the game of Texas Hold'em seemed like a mere drop of water in an ocean now that there was a million dollars sitting in front of her. Waiting with their papers crisp and fresh, countless wads bound together with elastic bands. Never, in all of her life, had Sushi Wasabi Salmon's eyes feasted on such treasure. Momentarily forgetting where she was and what was happening around her, she gingerly lifted a roll of bills to her nose, breathed deeply, and felt her heart thrumming inside of her with eagerness.

"And what is that?"

This was what she came for.

This was what she loved the most.

This was what could help bring her and Rider back together once more.

"You're an outsider."

That was what Rider had told her, and that was what Sushi had believed. They were the ones who nobody understood, the weird girl with the food name and the dark, brooding boy. They were the ones that – despite what everyone may have thought –  knew not where their path led, or even had one. Until she had met him, she had hid, using her constant peppiness as something to mislead those who tormented her – to appear carefree, confident, and cheerful. She smiled when she was hurting, laughed when she was crying, and fooled most everyone who knew her. For a long, long time, she was confused and conflicted, not knowing where her life was heading, until she bumped into that shaggy-hair boy in the street. He had taken her by the hand and taught her how to fly, and was the first one, the only one, who had unchained her heart and told her that it was okay to be different.

The dollar bills underneath her fingers ruffled with the cool air being blown from the air conditioning above, and before she knew it, her hands had received a mind of their own and slammed the lid of the briefcase down, locking it. Rider had been sent away after spending what seemed to be an eternity in prison, sworn to never contact her again. Yet, despite not having seen each other for more than a year, there was something inside of her that whispered that he stilled loved her, and she did him. A slender hand curled around the smooth handle of the case, relishing in its chilling coolness, as she heaved it off the table with a grunt. It banged onto her left leg, sending slivers of pain travelling up her skin, but Sushi did not care. There was a fire burning in her heart, a flame that grew out of the ashes of the past, an incentive to leave. She needed Rider. She loved Rider. Rider was her everything. She did not know anyone else here. They were nothing – she felt nothing towards them. The bills in the briefcase in her hand was what she loved and adored, what she worshiped and lived for.

I'm an outsider, they're not.

She took a step forward, towards the door.

What about Cupcake?

She stopped in her tracks.

Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles. The one with the blood red lipstick, immaculately styled nails, expensive dresses and the most up-to-date hairstyles. The only one that she genuinely liked and cared about in the Milena Seble. Another girl with a food name, except this time, she was not an awkward potato like Sushi was. No, she was elegant and sophisticated, rich and utterly fabulous, as she'd stated more than once. Their relationship was something that bordered friendship, but not quite. There was something that hindered them, and while Sushi had pondered over what exactly was holding Cupcake back before the killing and horror started, now she knew.

I'm an outsider, Cupcake's not.

The briefcase was growing heavy in her hands.

Does that mean you will let her die?

Her heart was pounding, so hard and furious that she thought it would pound its way straight out of her chest. Her throat had gone dry, and so had her tongue. Her head was spinning, her hands were sweating, and the choice that lay before her sat unmoving on her shoulder. The grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked and tocked, awaiting her decision, and the air around her was filled with anticipation.

Does that mean you will let her die?

Rider Black.

Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles.

She looked at the door, down at the briefcase filled with cash in her hands, and back at the door.

Does that mean you will let her die?

Then, Sushi Wasabi Salmon whispered to no one and everyone all at once, "Yes."

I'm an outsider, they're not.