Russian Roulette Game Show Novels & Stories

I paused a few inches away from him, spinning the revolver in close examination. “A game?” He murmured in a voice thick with dread. “Yes, Cory.” I stopped spinning and reached into my pockets for a couple of billets. “Ever heard of the Russian roulette game?” Slowly, his eyes grew wider, to the point of popping out of their sockets, as he started to realize where we were headed. Together. Well he would separate from me, eventually, if he didn’t cooperate. On his way to freaking hell. “Please,” he started in a quivering voice, “don’t do this.”

Russian roulette was a game in which a single round was placed in a revolver. The players, in turn, spun the cylinder, place the muzzle against their heads, and pull the trigger. This game didn't end till the bullet hit one of the players. This was a very cruel and terrifying game. If there was a rank of cruelty for gambling games in the world, Russian roulette must be the cruelest. No! No! But at that moment, two bodyguards came over directly. They held my hands, and forced me to stand aside.

Dylan replied, successfully dragging him away. "It's time for the game, come to the table if you are interested" someone announced through the speaker. "Are you playing?" Leonard asked Elena. "Of course" she nodded and they stood up from the bench before going into the house. Everyone interested in the game were already sitting around a big round table and they joined immediately. Dylan and Donald came in last and they settled down beside each other. "The game starts now, if you can't say the truth or do a dare, you would have to drink a shot of vodka" the anchor said through the speaker and a maid appeared with glasses filled with vodka.

After observing the roulette, Alex's face twitched. There was a needle pointing to the roulette, and on the roulette were the words, "Item Category", "Body Enhancement Category", "Skill Category", and "Thanks for participating, have a nice dayyy". Each category had a respective color and its own region. The four regions were different in size with the "Thanks for participating" words taking up nearly half of the roulette whereas the skill category only took up about the size of a ballpoint pen. It was practically invisible on the giant roulette unless heavily scrutinized. "Fuck me sideways! Why is my system so weak? The chance of getting a dud is clearly more than 50%." Alex lashed out at hi

And above all… do your best to speak only truth, or the Game will know. Lies are the currency of the damned. ] Farrah took a deep breath as she carefully read the rules. This was her lifeline after all. She had basically just died from the car accident, and she didn’t want to die again. If there was a chance of survival, she might as well cling to it. Still, she couldn’t help but feel nervous. This simply felt too unreal. “This is insane…” she whispered. “It’s a nightmare. It has to be.”

I drift off to sleep on the plane on the way back to Texas, only to awaken after having a very vivid dream or maybe I should say fantasy of Drake. I pour myself a drink and try to relax. I decided to change clothes and freshen up, just in case Drake met me at the airfield. Silly how I have to remind myself this is all just a game. I catch myself wanting him, wanting to please him, wanting to give myself to him. I have to remember that I want to hurt him, make him regret how he treated me. Lila, my wolf also reacts to Drake so strongly I constantly have to reign in. I continue to sip the burning alcohol that I am drinking, my excitement continues to grow at the thought of seeing Drake. Noth

He set it on the bed where I could see and pressed play. The screen lit up to show a video of Janice. She sat in a wooden chair in some sort of field, dressed up this time. Even in video form, it was clear to anyone who watched this that she was scared. Whoever was behind the camera was clearly saying something to her, their voice distorted. Russian roulette. The sick son or daughter of a bitch was playing Russian roulette with my woman. Janice’s voice cracked as she answered questions about us. There were times the bastard clicked that gun and came up empty. Just watching the scenes alone gutted me.

I never imagined she had been keeping a lover for five years. To make sure the one-million-dollar bet was worth it, the survival game NPC covered my head with a hood. They grabbed the rope around my neck and lifted me completely off the ground. All my data was displayed to the cameras from all directions. I hung there half-dead with my feet dangling in the air like a broken doll. Below me was a horrifying pool of red. The host projected the data panel onto the giant screen and let out a surprised gasp. "Two hearts. That's incredibly rare. Two hearts beating as one. That's a perfect symbol of eternal love."

"You know Russian roulette. Seven chambers. One bullet. We take turns. Three pulls each. If we're both alive after six, I'll forgive you." Manuel went still. "Do you really have to be this cold?" "Yeah." Her voice didn't shift. "As long as I'm alive, I can't forgive you. So we leave it to fate. If we both make it, maybe that means I should." "Fine." Manuel clenched his jaw. "Then fate gets to decide." He snatched the revolver off the table, pressed it to his temple, and pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Shiloh's turn.

I leveled my weapon, my breathing entirely still, and squeezed the trigger three times. Pfft. Pfft. Pfft. The rounds caught the left guard in the unarmored meat of his thigh and the soft tissue of his lower throat, bypassing his ballistic plate. He folded instantly, his carbine slipping from his fingers as he collapsed against a rusted steel drum, his hands clawing weakly at his neck. To my right, the guard I had swept was scrambling frantically to his feet, his face smeared with mud as he reached wildly for the sidearm at his hip.