Russian Roulette Memes Novels & Stories

Finding Rocco and Vinnie in an alley with their brains splattered on the pavement would spook any man. I light a cigarette, which I’d given up a year ago, and lean back in my leather chair, forcing an aura of calm. "So, which is it, fellas? Feds or Russians?" Red shakes his head. "Gotta be the Russians, boss. Why else would they use Kalashnikovs? Feds don't go around spraying Uzis." "Yeah, unless they wanted it to look like the Russians did it," Duncan says. Fat Tommy slams his fist on the desk. "Bull! It was those vodka-swilling snow monkeys, I just know it."

Said the Cruel- man, “What if someone dies and you are to be blamed again? It will be the second accusation without an alibi, do you know what will happen? 25years tops!” I thought about it. RasterBook, you can kill your father for all I care, I don’t care. “Do you know chess?” asked the Russian “I didn’t come here for that, sir!” “Come on, Mastermind.” He said, “A game or two would do.” “What happens for every game I lose or win?” “Let`s play.” I played a game with the Russian, quite a game we played. Just when I was about to checkmate him, I got a strangely missed call alert. I didn’t hear it ring if it did.

He puts on his glasses and gets to work on retrieving the bullet from my shoulder, while I lean my head back and just focus on taking calming breaths. “You’re very lucky. There have been a number of deaths around Russia lately all involving piano wire. Most victims didn’t get to keep their heads. You may have just found the culprit,” he says absentmindedly. At that, I open my eyes and stare down at the man. Guess he underestimated this particular prey. “Got it,” announces Vsevolod proudly, dropping the bullet in a small jar of rubbing alcohol.

I open the group chat that contains the most unbalanced yet most loyal humans in my life. I type: [If either of you opens this chat with “I told you so,” I will relocate you to Siberia.] Then I send the three screenshots. It takes less than five seconds for the typing bubbles to appear. Rhea gets there first. Rhea: [I’m not going to say “I told you so.”] [I’m going to say, where’s the license plate and I’m ready to be a pretty criminal.] Hazel comes in right after. Hazel: [Do not reply. Save everything.]

Zen frowned with worry as he drank from the tall glass. Vera waved and clicked her tongue as Zen zoned out again while viewing the Screwdriver’s memory clip. Judging from Zen’s pace, she would be working overtime, not that she minded. It would be interesting to see how one of the true candidates reshuffled the chessboard while she messed with his mind. The Moscow Mule was a joke, but Vera wondered if Zen could see the gem in the Valentini she recommended.

This is a psychological game—and I refuse to be a pawn. The Russian laughs again, as if our desperation were an entertaining show. “You really are very stupid. This is going to be easier than I imagined,” he says, cocking his gun with a disturbing smile. “How about we have some fun with them first, my love?” “Thanks, but I don’t like dick. If you untie me, I can shove that gun up your ass!” Lohan growls, his voice hoarse with rage. Liora remains in front of us, still silent. A flash of something—challenge? Pain appears in her eyes before the world around us plunges into chaos.

TESSA I open I*******m first, and my world implodes all over again. The video is everywhere. Reposted, shared, turned into memes, reaction videos and compilation clips. #TessaFail is trending. #FatGirlDown has over a million views. Someone has auto-tuned my sobs and turned them into a remix. But it's the comments that really destroy me: "LMAOOOOO this is the funniest thing I've ever seen" "Imagine being this delusional about your weight"

There were another few dozen texts, all along the same lines and starting around the time I’d met Zane. Could they be from Scott? Maybe. They might also be from anyone else whose name began with “S,” or any other letter. You couldn’t tell anything from online names, except sometimes that someone had a sense of humor or when they put their ideology in their name, like KillAllHumans142. I went back to my main feed and found a photo of Jordan giving his brief speech, along with a few-dozen comments about his age and declaring him attractive. It seemed harmless. It was there, however, that I found a meme I greatly disliked. It showed my face on a white wolf’s body with wings. The wolf was also d

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