Russian Roulette Game Show Novels & Stories

Of course, if Paul kept being a lame duck, he deserved to lose Nancy. Crystal hummed. She did not expect Eric to care about his brother so much. On the other side, Paul held Nancy tightly in his arms as if it were the last time he hugged her. The bunny girl explained the rules with a sweet smile, “The game is divided into three rounds, that is, you can not consider whether to continue or give up until rotating the roulette three times.” Onlookers surrounded the roulette with curiosity, everyone was looking forward to the outcome of the gamble, except for the couples. Different from the other onlookers, more than a dozen couples were now looking on with complex emotions.

Before that, he loaded one bullet into the pistol with a Double-Action Revolver style. Right now, we were in the backyard of Zeus' palace. The morning that should have been bright but has turned dark, because of the screams of pain from the people in front of me. I saw about 7 people who were tied up by Zeus' bodyguards, they were tied to iron poles. "This is a game of Russian Roulette. I want you to execute these rebels, using your wits. Because there's only one bullet in this gun. You have to remember, there's only one bullet in this gun." Zeus looked at me, smiling horribly.

My brows knit together and I force myself to concentrate. Russo is yelling at us again. He raises his arm. “This is the final trial! You have five shots to prove your marksmanship! Anyone with less than eighty points will be out!” Confusion floods us all and we stare at Russo with eyes wide open. They were supposed to take in the top three shooters. Russo nods with a smirk on his face. “That’s right people! The rules have changed. If none of you gets more than eighty points then you’re all out!”

The gorilla removes the rope that prevents the passage and a lot of people begin to come towards us until they have surrounded the table and filled the room. -The Pooker Blaaaze is going to start! -announces the man with the mustache.- I'm going to remember the rules: First, it's not worth betting less than a thousand dollars- I gulp. OMG. What kind of game is this? - Second, the players' partners cannot oppose what they say, and if not, you know what happens ...- the man takes a pistol from his belt and leave it in the center of the table. I look at Azael scared, with a face of not understanding anything and he winks at me. Shit.- Third, if the round ends with an even-numbered chip, the las

My eyes went dead, he was the reason why I was shot, why our child died. The man was shaking looking like he wanted to pee in his pants, I knew Matteo better he wouldn't kill him, he was more of a mind game torture kind of guy. "Do you want to play Russian roulette?" he asked. The man's hands trembled as he reached for the gun. He knew that if he refused to play, he would be killed. If he played, he had a one-in-six chance of survival. "Who else?" Matteo said in his authoritative voice and the man pointed to a bald man.

Even Emilio, who’s the buffiest of the guys, couldn’t escape the watchful eyes of the game master. There’s a gruesome punishment waiting for anyone who loses. They are betting money, cars, and as for now, the punishment is to finish the juice made by Anita and Claudia. The liquid inside the tall glass, a cross between brown and green, looks inedible. Only those two know what they put in there, but I don’t want to find out. Emilio, who lost in the dart game against Menandro is as green as the grass beneath our feet. I feel pity for the big guy.

When I got back to the private room, Connor Winfield was surrounded by people taking pictures with him. A luxury mechanical watch was on his wrist. Under the lights, it stood out even more. Someone laughed. "Charlotte, that grand prize is seriously expensive. Anyone who didn't know better would think Connor is the one you're proposing to tonight." Connor's eyes instantly turned red. "Please don't say that. George will be upset." As soon as he spoke, everyone looked at me.

"You place a bet on the roulette table, then the dealer spins the central wheel and throws the ball. When the wheel stops spinning, the ball lands on a number, and that's the winning number," the man explained, smiling with a hint of mischief. Lara scanned the table, the players around her, and the colors on the roulette wheel. Everything seemed very captivating, but it was known that luck played a big role. "Choose, please, baby. Red or black?" the man insisted. Perhaps he wasn't as interested in the game as he was in the woman.

"I choose you dying screaming." "Wrong answer." She pulled the trigger. Click. Empty chamber. Russian roulette. "Lucky. One in six chance. Let us try again—" "Catherine wait—" I stepped forward. Hands raised. Desperate. "The fortune. Take it. All of it. Right now. I transfer everything. You let Hope go. You win. Completely. Totally. Everything you wanted."

And the look of disgust in his eyes. “Let’s play a little game,” he growled, a menacing smile on his face. Slowly he pulled the gun from my temple while Roberto and Massimo held their aim on me. He opened the cylinder of the revolver, eyeing it, counting the number of bullets before spinning the cylinder and flicking it closed. “Russian roulette. Shall we?” He pressed the barrel of the revolver back to my temple. The whole scene played out like it was happening to someone else; like it was a bad movie. “Should I kill you now?” he bellowed, rage clear on his face. “I should have expected something