Author Games: Ace of Spades

Quarterfinals: Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles

There were no more Coco Chanel quotes for her to be said.

There were no more sayings for her to follow, nothing else for her to live by. Instead, there was death, blood and a choice for her to make. A choice sitting daintily on the tabletop, in the form of a silver-colored briefcase with a hexagonal pattern on the lid. The handle was cool underneath her touch – pure silver, she hypothesized, judging its weight and color – as Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles quietly flipped open the lid, eyes widening slightly at the wads of money that lay before her. A small, yellow sticky note fluttered down onto the table, seemingly out of nowhere, catching the girl's attention. Using the tips of her fingers, she peeled the note off of the wood and let her dark eyes dart over the immaculately printed words, heart plummeting to the bottom of her stomach as everything sank in.

"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?"

There was a part inside of her that wanted to freak out, or grab the luxurious briefcase and use it to smash the window beside her. There was something inside of her that wanted to scream "You can't make me do this!", that wanted her to rebel and fight back, that the four Aces had finally crossed the line. Yet, she could not deny the fact that her heart had fluttered upon seeing the million dollars in the briefcase before her, of the greed and desire that bubbled up in her stomach at the prospect of more cash, more dollar bills to spend, more parties to throw and more cars to buy. Deep down inside, she wanted to smile with glee, because when Candy Cane Prada had dared her to try her luck at the Milena Seble, Cupcake had confidently agreed. She had watched as her friend smirked, making no effort to conceal her disbelief and doubt, and sarcastically mumbled "good luck" underneath her breath.

There was another reason why Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles had decided to come to the Milena Seble besides Candy's dare and her desire for money.

She wanted to be known.

She wanted to be remembered.

She wanted to flaunt her luck and talent and wealth, saying, "I bet you won't forget me now."

Because despite the fact that she had killed, that she truly cared, that she lost herself, no one could deny that Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles was still one's typical rich chick.

In other words, despite what others thought, what she herself thought, her harrowing experience at the Milena Seble had done nothing to deflate her ego, to open her eyes and change her life. In fact, if Cupcake was honest with herself, she knew that if she survived the night, she would most likely use the event as something to further her own publicity. She would be the guest star on every major talk show, from Ellen to Jimmy Fallon to James Cordon, her face plastered on the front page of every newspaper. Agents would come running to her door with book offers and movie deals, and money would come pouring by the hundreds, thousands – millions, even. Her name would be written in the stars, her voice echoing on the airwaves. Right now, she was only known in her neighborhood – for after all, there were prosperous spoiled brats everywhere – and although Candy seemed to be satisfied with the fame she was already receiving, Cupcake wanted more. She wanted to go up to her one of her many exes – a boy by the name of Ryder Hale, whose frontal lobe had obviously been damaged for he'd dumped her for some plain Jane – surrounded by her entourage, wearing a necklace that was worth more than he'd ever owned, toss her hair over her shoulder and sweetly ask, "Dear whoever, do you remember? It's me, old 'what's-her-name'."

Poor Ryder Hale would've thought he was dreaming, but alas, that wasn't true. For Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles was back – classier, more fabulous, hotter and richer than ever.

All because she survived the Milena Seble massacre.

If she took the money, leaving the casino a free woman and a million dollars richer, it would be the best thing that ever happened to her.

Mind made, she grabbed the briefcase, lifting it off the desk and grunting underneath the weight. Back at her house – or rather, her mansion – she had a servant to carry things for her, such as suitcases and heavy bags, and was unused to handling such a bulky object on her own. Still, that was of little importance – with a pounding heart, Cupcake headed towards the door she had entered, swallowing back her anxiety, wobbling, for the first time she could remember, in her high heels.

She needed to be known.

She needed to be remembered.

She needed –

Sushi.

Almost immediately, Cupcake halted in her tracks. The one word, the one thought, the one name, had been so powerful and sudden it had stopped her short, churning her mind as the briefcase went slack in her hand. Sushi – not the food, the girl. The girl red hair and hazel eyes who nearly burst into tears when the wifi shut down and she couldn't access tumblr. The girl who had come and invaded her private space during their first meeting, the one who Cupcake wanted nothing to do with. The girl who she'd first thought was going to steal her throne, to steal the spotlight at the Milena Seble with her quirkiness and bubbly personality, before she realized that Sushi Wasabi Salmon was only trying to be her friend.

Is she my friend? Or is she just a fan, another person who admires and loves me? Someone I can do without?

For that, Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles had no answer.

Did she want the fame, the wealth, the respect that taking the briefcase would provide? Absolutely. Yet, at the same time, did she want Sushi Wasabi Salmon, and the seven other remaining survivors to die a brutal, painful death? After that day, that day where a certain Mercedes Benz had gone spinning into the body of a little boy, she knew the consequences that death brought. She did not want to be approached by another Amanda Bunnings, another grief-stricken mother, father, son or daughter to accuse her to living while their loved ones perished at the hands of psychopaths.

Murderer.

I don't want to kill again.

She wanted to be known.

She wanted to remembered.

She wanted those who ignored her to never forget her anymore.

But this – this was not the way.

Slowly, the woman took a few steps backwards, careful not to get her heels caught in the carpet and crash onto the floor, before gently slipping the briefcase back onto the tabletop. Her fingers lingered on the handle for a few seconds, relishing in the coolness of the silver, letting the thoughts of what could have been sear themselves into her mind. Perhaps, her popularity would not skyrocket. Perhaps, people would continue to forget her. Perhaps, she would not even make it out alive, failing Candy's dare and giving up her life.

But at least, Sushi would have a chance. Sushi and everyone else.

And Cupcake Maybelline Sprinkles could finally say that she was not a murderer.