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Sometimes the calm between rounds was almost worse than the real thing itself, just the false pretense of silence, assuming it's safe there just because no one happens to be trying to kill them. That didn't necessarily make it safe, though.
There was also that odd feeling, that from always chasing after death, when the danger is gone it's like you almost start to miss it. Miss the adrenaline, most of all. Chance hadn't understood the feeling much until Guest spoke to them about it. Risk-taking, or the desire for adrenaline, seeking It out like a high, it makes you feel cool, it makes you feel fucking awesome. Chance gets it when they land a good coin flip, or when they shoot the killer right on the target.
Guest told him that it was familiar, it made sense too. When he was in the army, any moment of downtime felt underwhelming, when what you're waiting for is so dangerous you can't really relax. And at the same time, it became fun—he claimed—knowing you're important, that your friends rely on you. Being good at it too. Fighting for what's right and making it out alive. He admitted, even, that he enjoyed the violence sometimes, but he was shy about that part.
It was nice, Chance guessed, to just feel like he's part of a team that needs him. And he did get excited when he won a round. He'd know better than anyone, he got so fucking excited from betting, he used to throw half his life on the line just for that high.
And for someone who loved a rush, there sure wasn't much of it in the cabin. That exhilarating hunt for survival just leaves, and it's so calm and quiet, too calm. So maybe that was why they didn't immediately turn the idea down when 007n7 proposed a game of Liars Table.
He liked it a lot, for some reason. Chance had taught him about it—well, they'd tricked him into playing it without knowing the rules, so they could get a bloxy cola off him during a round. Poor 007n7 would do anything short of jumping off a cliff if he thought it was gonna earn him some respect. Chance wouldn't take advantage, but he needed it more than he did. They used the cards he had in his pocket. He made up one rule, that 007n7 had to give it to them if they caught him lying. The real game is played with a gun, three rounds, and lying means you pull the trigger on yourself.
But 007n7 ended up liking it, and now he suggests it when they play cards, even over the other games they'd learned. Except they usually played Bullshit, since it was the non lethal version. Tonight, he’d asked for Liars Table.
“That one again?” Elliot was tired already.
“Sure—…I think it's fun.” 007n7 was nervous, he didn't want to ruin everyone's fun.
“You're just like me now.” Chance joked, flipping through the cards. “A real gambler, he loves the rush, can ya blame him?”
007n7 smiled a little, just glad that anyone was being friendly, really. He was silly, Chance didn't even hate him anyway, he wouldn't be mean. That was Elliot's thing. 007n7 was just a guy to him, nothing personal.
“...Why don't we play with the gun this time?” Shedletsky suggested.
“Oh—I…I don't know—” 007n7 hesitated. It wasn't surprising that he'd be apprehensive.
“It's not that fun without it, it's just cards otherwise.” Shedletsky went on.
“..It's still fun that way.” 007n7 muttered, looking a little annoyed at being ignored.
“What gun?” Chance kept looking at the cards.
“Your gun.”
Chance hesitated, lowering the deck from where he'd been holding it over his head. They didn't really know what to say for a moment. Why? It's not much of a big deal, it's just another gamble. And they couldn't die.
They knew that, because a few of them had died around the cabin before. 007n7 drowned in the lake when he fell in one night, no one heard him. Early on when they first got here, a subspace tripmine killed Builderman and badly wounded Two Time. Taph swore he didn't know he'd had one still, he thought they stayed in the rounds.
Chance hadn't died, but he'd watched someone die. Very very early on, when they still tried to escape sometimes, Noob tried to climb a cliff off in the woods—and something, according to them their grip was fine, made them fall, right onto another rock. That had scared him for about a day, it'd been very bloody.
“It could just explode, y'know?” Chance warned.
“That'll still kill someone.” Shedletsky replied.
He didn't want to, for some odd reason he felt very hesitant. But maybe it could be a bit fun, a bit exciting.
“I don't know If I want to do that.” 007n7 murmured, his voice tried to be firm.
“Could be fun, I guess.” Elliot said, and 007n7 looked like he'd been betrayed.
Guest, Two Time, Taph, and Noob all also agreed with varying levels of confidence. Dusekkar and Builderman were out on the porch trying to fix the stairs. Which left only Chance and 007n7 who didn't really want to do it, two against six—well Chance wasn't about to take the losing side with 007n7 of all people, so they changed their tune and agreed to bring out their gun.
Could be fun, could be. He just had to think of that adrenaline high, and the idea became a bit more appealing.
Chance shrugged, tried to not show his nerves. He shook his head as he spoke. “Well. Fine, we'll play with the gun.”
Shedletsky emptied out the chamber, it was full, it always was even when it didn't go off. Still, he took out three, leaving three behind. It held space for six. But it was mostly cosmetic, the bullets didn't matter much.
He set it down in the center as Elliot dealt out the cards, five for each of them, and then he put the rest next to the gun. It was like the rounds, the last man standing would be the winner—meaning that almost all of them would have to die before the game ends.
He had to win—he decided—he didn't want a bullet in the head very much.
The game started and Chance watched his cards carefully. Four aces, one queen. Shit out of luck. They were playing with a bit too many people too, so it was a bit harder to guess who had what cards. But their stack was fairly normal, so at least they knew someone had extra kings.
It was the dealer's choice, Elliot put down a queen. They went around the circle almost one full turn. It went like this, Elliot; 007n7; Chance; Guest; Taph; Shedletsky; Two Time; and then Noob, and the circle went again. Chance put down his queen, not risking it. Halfway through, Taph put down his first card, hesitating a moment.
“Liar!” Shedletsky shouted, startling Taph.
“Seriously?” Elliot spoke.
“It's a bit soon to call it though, isn't it?” Guest commented.
“No, trust me I know him, I saw you hesitate, Taph. You don't fool me.” Shedletsky turned on him. “Show it.”
Chance figured he just got too excited, Taph usually played it safe, he'd know, he pays a lot of attention to these things. You lose if you don't. He smirked at Shedletsky's surprised face when the card was, in fact, a queen.
‘fool’ Taph signed, Chance understood that one. He'd probably look pretty smug if they could see his face.
Shedletsky didn't say anything else, just let out a heavy sigh and picked the gun up off the table. He was quick as he pointed it at his head, Chance almost flinched when the gun clicked. He was spared.
They felt a bit sweaty, nerves swimming around in their abdomen. But the game went on.
Elliot lied very obviously, putting down two cards. 007n7 cast him a wary glance, and the two made eye contact for just a second. Before 007n7 seemingly decided he didn't want to call him out, maybe it was guilt, either way it annoyed Chance. Someone has to die this round, or it'll be him.
But Guest didn't call Liar when Chance played their ace, or maybe he didn't notice. They went down the line—Two Time was peeking at other people's cards when they weren't looking. Noob noticed them doing it, and then started purposefully being very obvious when they peeked at Two Time’s cards in return. Until they were both just showing them off.
It becomes a lot more casual when they'd gone one full circle with no deaths, now halfway through this one and no one was very worried anymore, he almost forgot the gun was even there. Even 007n7 eased up a bit. Then it got to Two Time, they put down three cards.
“You lied.” Noob called out.
“How sure are you?” Two Time taunted them.
“I-I’m sure! You put down three.”
“Are you very sure?” Two Time grinned, looking giddy.
“Just show your cards.” Elliot demanded.
Two Time didn't hesitate, proudly holding up two kings and an ace, very much the wrong cards.
“Clever.” Shedletsky made a sarcastic comment, and in fairness, if they weren't good at poker, they weren't going to be any good at this either.
Then they held their hand out for the gun, and Elliot passed it off to them. They had this eerie, joyful smile as they leaned forward and pressed the barrel close to their forehead. Making a real show out of it.
Chance thought, for a moment, of a time he'd played something similar. How he'd laughed maniacally after the fifth time it still didn't go off, how drunk off nerves and angicipation they'd felt—like they were on top of the world. He can't imagine doing that now, his breath felt caught as he watched Two Time slip a finger over the trigger.
They chuckled, quietly, for just a second. Then the blast went off, and a bullet tore through their skull.
Their eyes looked dead for just a moment, there was a huge, messy hole just above their nose that immediately spurted blood across the table—a little even hit Shedletsky's arm. Chance wasn't so bothered by gore anymore, but he closed his eyes before he could see whatever was inside the wound.
Gravity did its job as they slid down, first their arms were in the way, but they bent easily, and their head hit the table with a loud thud, their forehead rested on their arm, smearing more blood across it, and their hand lay still holding the gun against the table.
The room was deathly silent, aside from 007n7’s heavy breathing, and shuffling as Guest shifted in his seat. Chance opened their eyes, all they could see of Two Time was their head, face down, and the blood quickly leaking past that space and into the dark wood of the table.
No one spoke, for a few good seconds, and then Elliot broke the silence.
“Are they…coming back?” There was a slight edge to his voice, bordering on fearful.
They all knew they would, but there was that slight nervous thought that maybe they wouldn't. Maybe whatever torments them here decided that this isn't allowed, and they'd punish Two Time to make that clear.
Builderman let out a frightened shout from outside, and almost all heads turned as footsteps came up the steps and the front door was slammed open. Two Time entered, gripping the door with vigor and rubbing their forehead with their fist, as if the wound were still there.
Builderman appeared behind them, poking his head through the gap. “Everyone alright in here?” He asked.
“You heard the gunshot.” Shedletsky answered.
“Yeah—yeah I did…” Builderman muttered, Two Time stared at Noob, before fixing their smile once again.
“Did you expect my death?” They asked. “No. Of course not. The spawn will always show me mercy.”
Shedletsky rolled his eyes. Guest, ever the kind soul, spoke. “I see it has, but you're out of the game now, right?”
“Yes. Unfairly.” Two Time said, their tone was irritable.
“Unfortunately that's the point.” Chance muttered, and Elliot chuckled.
“Sorry.” Noob looked away.
“Come on, you're out now, bug off.” Chance waved Two Time away, and they continued to glare at the group.
“Hm. May you have good luck.” Two Time said, dripping with sarcasm. They backed through the doorframe, the same way they came from, and began to stalk off into the dark.
“Always do!” Chance called after them.
The room was quiet for a moment, Chance looked over his remaining cards—all aces, but the decks would be reshuffled now that someone was out.
“So…what are you all doin’?” Builderman was still in the doorway.
“Russian Roulette.” Shedletsky said.
“Liars Table.” Chance was quick to correct. Not that game, they wouldn't play that game.
“Hm…alright. Well can ya keep it down?...Shed?”
“Uh, no?” Shedletsky said, and to be fair, he wasn't sure either how they'd keep this game quiet.
Guest butted in. “Sorry, we’ll try to keep it quieter, we won't shout.”
“Thanks.” Builderman cast a glare at Shedletsky, then he disappeared as he shut the door.
The game kept going, and as it went Chance's nerves grew worse. At first it was just a slight nagging feeling, now they had this intense certainty that they couldn't lose. It wouldn't be that awful—to point the gun at himself, but he just didn't want to.
One round passed, Guest had to shoot, the gun clicked, and then Shedletsky had to go again, but he was spared as well. They couldn't keep getting lucky, surely.
His new deck was better, the dealer put down a king, and Chance had two of them. It was a relief, they made it through the first circle without anyone being called out. Then once again it came to his turn, he put his second king down, the circle went again.
007n7 had been in good spirits the past round, because Elliot had started to idly chat with him—who knows why they sat them together, but 007n7 refused to call liar on any of Elliot's turns, and it seemed to put them both in a good mood. It made Chance sweat, because if they spared each other, then he's closer to the chopping block.
007n7 put down one card, last round he put down two, but Chance had two kings, and unless several others lied—he couldn't have two. It wouldn't make sense, right? And he was on his last cards, he was shit out of kings and luck.
“Liar!” He acted fast. 007n7 startled. “Go on, show your card.”
Elliot eyed him disapprovingly, was he sneaking glances, did he know? They didn't know why they were so antsy—they probably weren't sharing cards, why would Elliot help 007n7 win? That's a stupid idea.
“I'm not lying.” 007n7 murmured, he flashed him a sympathetic look, and then he picked it up and showed it.
A joker, he put down a joker.
Chance swallowed, a strange dread coming over him. It's fine, it shouldn't matter, but now he'd have to pick up the gun.
“Tough luck.” Guest sighed.
“I would've called him out too, he was hoarding those.” Shedletsky said absentmindedly, already tossing his cards back into the deck.
Chance hesitated, looking at the gun—it was still held loosely in Two Time’s cold, dead hand. He quickly pried it free from their fingers, leaning back in his seat. He brought the barrel up under his chin, thinking he could just get it over with quickly.
But he didn't pull the trigger, didn't even think to do it.
They were watching, but he couldn't. Someone had watched before, they hated the feeling, expecting glances, all wishing he'd just die already.
What? What were they thinking? They pulled the gun forward, aiming for the ceiling instead. They shouldn't do this.
“Quick, I'm trying to get rid of Taph and we have a few more rounds left.” came Shedletsky's impatient voice, and Taph nudged him on the shoulder.
“Is he that good that you have to get him out?” Guest asked.
Taph shrugged, but nodded, being humble about it. He signed something that both Shedletsky and Guest seemed to understand, Guest only a little bit, he nodded along anyway.
“Yeah, I'm smart, he says. He's not smart, I see him.” Shedletsky scoffed. “You're just…kind of good, Taph.”
“Better than you?” Guest teased, and Shedletsky struggled to find a comeback.
Taph signed again, hitting Shedletsky's shoulder again when he ignored him, and then signing the same thing but a bit more aggressively.
“I'm not saying that one… You're making fun of me.” He muttered.
Chance had tuned them out, staring at the gun with a silent war going on in his mind. He just couldn't decide if he should do it. Could he even say no? Why would they say no, it's easy.
“Hey, Chance, are you doing it?” Guest’s voice is kind beside him, Chance shudders.
“Sure, yeah.” Chance mutters. “…Is this kind of scary for you guys, too? Haha…”
“Uh, no—” Shedletsky began.
“I mean I'm not—um, scared.” Chance clarified. “It's just…”
“Sure, after Two Time, yeah. That was um…” Guest shrugged, he'd been seeing people get their heads blown off far sooner than the rest of them.
“Brutal, man.” Elliot finished. “I mean it just...blasted their head open."
“oh yeah, it was pretty gross.” Shedletsky added.
“Thanks guys.” Chance grimaced. But it wasn't Two Time’s shot that put him off, it was something else.
The familiarity of it, this felt like deja vu, that's what it was. He'd done this before, but in a different situation. The feeling of holding the gun to his head, in a time that felt far away now. But last time it wasn't them. It was him. Chance couldn't stop thinking about his eyes on them as they held the gun.
And how a few times he'd gone and put his hand on the gun himself, and guided it to his head, and acted like it was just a fun game. Like he was happy for Chance, each time he survived, like they were both celebrating. As if he wasn't trying to trick him into killing himself.
Even now holding it, he felt this guiding presence. iTrapped's hand over his, telling him go ahead, it's fun isn't it? But it's not fun anymore.
“Are you doing it?” iTrapped—no, Elliot spoke. Staring at him, he probably looked so weird, he had no reason to be afraid of a gun. He'd died so many times during the rounds—he’d had the damn thing explode on him too. This was nothing.
“Patience, please. You can't rush luck.” Chance put the barrel under his chin again, his finger over the trigger.
You're on a winning streak, iTrapped’s voice spoke again, can you do it again. Maybe it was easier if they thought of it this way, easier if they were doing it for him. it wasn't, so he shut his eyes instead and thought about something else.
He pulled the trigger, the gun clicked. They let out the loudest, shakiest breath that they were sure everyone heard. Three blanks in a row, that was unheard of. They put the gun back down on the table immediately.
“Wow, okay.” Elliot murmured.
“So the next one is dead for sure, right?” Shedletsky commented.
“Yeah.” Chance spoke back, his voice quiet.
No one acknowledged his fearful reaction, and he was thankful for it. Shedletsky slid the gun back into the middle.
“Alright, well, it's not gonna be me.” He said, and the game continued.
This time the gun landed on 007n7, he was being obvious about it, and Chance had to call liar to get the round going. But 007n7 lost his nerve suddenly, despite the seemingly friendly bond he'd grown with Elliot—if only for this one game, and if only because they were sitting next to each other—he couldn't shoot himself for a chance to keep playing. In fact he got very certain about it, looking very nervous as he spoke.
“I really can't, I'm sorry. I won't.” He put the gun down on the table, shaking his head. “I think I'll just…go to sleep. Upstairs.”
“You're giving up?” Elliot asked.
And for a moment 007n7 seemed tempted, but again, he shook his head, firmer this time. “I can't do it, I don't want to do it—I’ll take the loss.”
“Hey, pal, it might not go off.” Chance tried. “You never know, that's the stakes, ain't it?”
But he was certain, and he couldn't be broken. “I can't do it—I…I'm tired anyway. I'll just go.”
Noob got a nervous look in their eye, knowing that if he was dropping out early, the next bullet was still on the table. One of them would catch it.
It wouldn't be Chance, he'd make sure of it.
Shedletsky was annoyed to see him go, if mostly because now the whole ‘leaving when you've had enough’ thing had been put on the table now, and he'd wanted a fair game. But everyone else was understanding, and so 007n7 quietly excused himself and left for bed.
So then there were six, the stakes a bit higher now. Quickly it became five, Taph went next. He tried to call out Shedletsky and he'd been wrong. He didn't seem afraid at all when he realized. He calmly brought the gun to the side of his head—a bit more respectful of the others than Two Time had been—he held it further away and positioned himself toward the ceiling. Only a little blood sprayed on the table when the gun went off, and the wound was clean.
As quiet as he was, he didn't even have anything to say, nothing to sign. Completely expressionless as always. It was almost eerie, how he just did it right away, so calm and smooth, and then after the shot he just hit the table like a dead weight, one small thud.
To say Chance was getting anxious would be an understatement, there were five of them now and he had a sick feeling he'd be next. They didn't want to take another shot, but it would be embarrassing to quit while they're ahead.
They thought of iTrapped, again. Thought of him urging them on, congratulating them for surviving when Chance knew now all he ever wanted was to see them dead.
And he trembled for each card he put down, as much as he loathed to admit it. He tried to keep a brave face, but he was scared. Scared that if he grabbed the gun again, iTrapped would come back and he'd have to hear his voice again.
Guest was enjoying it too now, the near death excited him, something about the adrenaline. The adrenaline, it was always that. What a shallow thing. Was Chance so stupid he'd chase a risk just to feel good, just to feel cool? Was Guest? Yeah clearly he was.
He so simple minded he'd let iTrapped play with him like that. Risk killing himself, just for a man who didn't even like him. It was so obvious, what kind of friend tells you to put a gun to your head? What kind of partner puts you down like that? And he did it over and over, they never noticed. Or they never cared.
It felt like he was calling to them, somehow, beyond the grave. Like he was there saying see, you love this. And was he really doing it for him now? He didn't want to do it for him.
He was horrible, evil, incurably cold. Just the worst person in the world, and so, so lovely, and if he asked Chance to do it again he'd do it, and that's the worst part.
“Taph didn't come back, do you think he's okay?” Elliot asked. Guest had just been spared another bullet, and he was acting a bit looney. Both him and Shedletsky had been laughing after every shot, to the point of throwing everyone else off their game.
“He's fine, he can handle it. Let's go!” Shedletsky reshuffled his deck.
“How many bullets till someone else goes?” Guest asked.
“None, it's random.” Came Chance's unenthusiastic reply.
“...We should do this again.” Guest kept talking. Chance groaned.
“Okay, next turn, come on man.” Elliot snatched Shedletsky's cards and began shuffling them properly, even he was growing tired of this. Noob looked wary too. Good. Maybe they could stop soon and Chance could spare himself the shame of quitting early.
“You're getting pretty excited, huh pal?” Chance looked over at Guest.
“I like it.” He shrugged, a wry smile on his face. “It's exciting. Kinda fun, when there's no real danger.”
No real danger my ass, Chance was so nervous he felt like he'd have a heart attack, and maybe that was dramatic, but he did want to stop now. And when he thought that, he meant it, he was not a quitter.
“We could stop, soon?” Noob suggested.
“Yeah.” Elliot murmured back.
“What? No, nobody won yet!” Shedletsky argued.
Elliot never had much patience. “But it's been like an hour and only three people are out—barely counting 07.”
“Or you guys can keep going, they seem a bit tired.” Elliot shrugged. “I don't mind, I'll go for longer.”
"I'm a little tired." Noob murmured, sounding polite.
“Are you tired?” Guest looked at Chance.
“You're asking him?” Shedletsky laughed. “Of course he's not. You're the best here, Chance."
Chance thought about saying he was done, but he didn't want to. Quitting means admitting he's scared, and quitting means he's a quitter. And damn it he's not.
and maybe he kind of liked hearing Shedletsky's praise. He was the best, the best at Poker, the best at Liars Table, the best at any game. Hell, the best at Russian Roulette, while he's at it, avoided the shot Everytime.
“No.” Chance firmly replied.
Elliot shot them this odd, knowing glance, like he saw right through them and he knew that Chance was lying right now. Chance glared at him in return.
Over his dead, rotting body, was he admitting that he was too chicken to shoot himself. After everything, that should be the easiest thing in the world. He has to keep going, he's supposed to be fine. He's supposed to be good at this.
“Dude, don't push your luck.” Elliot warned, eyes locked onto Chance.
“What? I'm the luckiest goddamn guy around.” Chance dismissed him easily. “Let's keep playing.”
He only has to outlast the last four of them, and he hoped, pretty desperately, that he would. The next game started up, but it all felt oddly slower this time around.
“Dealer picks aces.” Elliot put the card down.
Chance put down one king, Elliot didn't notice. Yet he was watching them now, it made them nervous. Elliot's eyes kept catching him and he'd look a little concerned before focusing back on the others. Chance wished he'd leave him alone already.
Guest out put down two. Then Shedletsky.
“Two aces.” Shedletsky said, with a joyous tone.
“Liar!” Noob called.
He looked a little surprised. “That fast? Okay, you caught me.”
He reached for the gun and placed the barrel to the side of his head. Guest stared at him, enamored, waiting to see blood. But somehow, he was spared again.
“Feelin’ it?” Chance asked him, it was evident with the smile on his face.
“I've been feeling it.” Shedletsky said. “Feels great.”
“It's the fear, it gets you all excited.” Chance watched them with tired eyes. This wasn't new to them, and they'd rather watch than play. Maybe he could get Shedletsky to play a little riskier, get him to shoot again.
“It really does. Makes sense, I remember my squad doing stuff like this. Pulling pins on grenades and running from them, that sort of thing.” Guest added.
“You didn't indulge?” Shedletsky asked, as they spoke, noob put down a card, and Elliot searched his deck.
“No, never. I'd never take a risk and put my troop in danger, they relied on me…And imagine if I left Daisy all alone just because I was playing around. Stupid thing to do…” Then this awful sadness overtook him, his eyes looked down. “I guess she's alone now, though.”
“that’s not your fault.” Elliot murmured.
“Sure, but she'll never know that.” Guest sighed.
He spoke with a finality, knowing they'd never get out of here. Never escape, never see anyone they loved again. Chance couldn't speak, he thought of his parents, and Spade, and iTrapped—would they really never go home? Was this it forever?
He figured it made sense, he was dead, technically, or in the real world. Something like that. Dread subdued him, he had no jokes, nothing wise to say. Just a pit somewhere deep inside him. They hoped someone remembered to let Spade out of his hutch after they died.
It was his turn and he was quick to put a card down. Shedletsky managed to get Guest in a good mood again, and they forgot to reshuffle the deck after the last shot. So Chance was out of aces.
He put a card down, a queen, and while no one else was paying much attention, Elliot noticed.
“He just lied, I swear.” Elliot called out, pointing at them.
“No way.”
“That's your third card you've put down, they can't all be aces.”
“I could have put down a joker, did ya think about that?” Chance bit back the nervous edge that would've exposed his fear.
“I doubt it. Show your cards.”
“Relax, pal, it's not your turn.” Chance refused.
“Dude, you're a liar.” Elliot stared at him.
“You're halfway across the table, you can't call me out!” Chance shouted.
“Bullshit! I still know you're lying.”
“It's not your call.” Chance laughed. “Beggin’ for a win, huh? Didn't take you for the cheating type, Elliot.”
“Smug piece of—” Elliot angrily muttered. “Guest, call him!”
“Okay, sure… liar?” Guest looked warily between the two of them, like he thought one of them would leap across the table and start a fight. And he knew he'd be the one who'd have to pry them apart if they did.
“Jackass.” Chance furiously muttered, and flipped their cards over.
“I knew it!”
“Isn't that kind of cheating, though?” Noob asked, genuinely unsure.
“Yeah, y'know what, Elliot. I think it might be.” Chance said. Stalling.
“It’s not cheating, and I'm right.” Elliot leaned back, looking smug with his arms crossed. Chance wanted to punch his lights out—this was so fucked up.
“Just pick up the gun, Chance.” Shedletsky slid it across the table to him, Chance caught it under one hand, glaring at everyone who looked his way.
They gripped the handle, and lifted it off the table, but he didn't point it at himself just yet. He hesitated, badly, and obviously. He didn't think he could do it, he could feel his eyes on him again.
“Honestly, I hope you lose now.” Elliot was only joking, but it instilled a horrible dread in Chance, so deep seated that they felt it in the pit of their stomach.
“Bit too lucky for that, I think.” Chance went on stalling. “I bet it won't go off.”
“Quit stalling.”
“I'm not.”
“Come on, Chance. Just make it quick, it's fine.” Guest tried to encourage him, but his tone felt patronizing and it pissed them all the way off.
Guest had a hard on for this game the moment he took the first shot—hell, about as soon as Two Time was killed. Really, he was sick, or fucked up or something.
“Alright! Don't blow your load so fuckin’ soon.” Chance snapped. “I'm…working up to it.”
Guest shrank, looking a bit confused at their sudden outburst, they didn't really care anymore though, it was all about survival now. Chance could have a temper, always had for a while, it comes with his sort of lifestyle—you're allowed to have a few loose-your-shit moments when you gamble like he does. They could get really pissed off sometimes, when they got too many bad coin flips in a row—or when the gun didn't go off during a round—especially if it happened twice, damn that got under his skin bad, he'd gotten so mad about it he'd screamed once.
“Sure, you're the one edging it, Chance.” Shedletsky interrupted his thoughts. He felt his composure shrink and disappear entirely.
He didn't feel any rush, just cold, concentrated fear. It all becomes the same thing. The adrenaline, it isn't fun, it's scary, it's horrifying. They're expecting him to do it, to pull the trigger. And if it doesn't go off, would they be disappointed?
iTrapped never showed his disappointment, if he did, then Chance would have known better.
Chance wants to tell himself he doesn't care. But all logic aside, he's so scared of this gun right now.
“I'm…” Chance looked for an excuse, searching the whole interior of their mind—and found nothing. They settled on a blank.
They thought of iTrapped, again. He'd always been able to subdue Chance's temper like nothing else, something about his voice commanded it. And from someone so lively, it was surprising how well it worked. He never got annoyed with iTrapped, if he did, it must've been his own fault.
He thought of their soothing hand on his shoulder, when they first met. iTrapped took what he wanted and knew how to get it, he slid his hand over Chance’s side and asked, you're funny, who are you? Like he had no idea, like he wasn't interrupting something important and totally throwing them off their game. He was good at it, got Chance to keep coming back, buy him a drink, trail on back to his place. You don't let someone pet your beloved pet rabbit so soon after meeting unless they're really something special. iTrapped was.
Then he thought of the game, the many games. It was hardly a game, just iTrapped urging him on, Isn't it fun? Wanna try again?
Chance would always assume that he had their best interests at heart, so he was convinced the game must be innocent. Part of him thought, maybe, that this was just some odd, bizarre kink for iTrapped, but if that were true, it meant he liked them, right? So he kept going along.
iTrapped called him “cute”, and got him to put the barrel to his head again. Chance implored him to explain.
Cute? I'm not sexy, or…I don't know? Something like that? They'd asked. iTrapped replied, definitely not. Sounding very certain when he said it. He'd take cute, then, if it was anything, he could be cute. He didn't care, affection from iTrapped was like water in a desert, and he was desperately thirsty.
It's cute when you get all excited about something.
Chance remembered that he didn't know what to say to that, a bit sweaty from the rush of anxiety, and unsure how to react to it.
You're just so alive, iTrapped said, an odd air to his voice as he said it. Disdain, that's what it was.
Chance wanted to stay alive.
“I don't want to do it.” He finally breathed out, panic welling in his lungs.
“Woah...Why?” Shedletsky questioned.
Elliot guessed, and his smug demeanor was quickly wiped off his face, but he didn't speak.
“What's wrong?” Guest asked.
“I just don't.” Chance spoke firmly. The guilt of admitting defeat gnawed at them, they thought about turning back and doing it.
Maybe quitting was admittance, but so was backing down, right?—shooting himself again was letting iTrapped inside his mind, and he'd run around free in there, forever. Chance couldn't let him.
It was all too much. It was too familiar, the weight of it and thinking about what he'd do, and the fear when he pulled the trigger. It all happened before, they were reliving the memory all over again.
“The night's never gonna end if we keep dropping out.” Shedletsky commented, subtly pushing them to do it, and it set them off really bad.
Why does he care? If Chance died it's the same quitting—did Shedletsky want to watch them die? Why would he ever want that?
“What's your deal!? I said I'm not doing it.” Chance raised his voice.
“Chance, calm down.” Elliot was quick to jump in, leaning over the table.
“It's not a big deal or anything.” Shedletsky had an awkward, uncomfortable look on his face. Well he should've expected it, Chance isn't stupid enough to fall for that.
“I just don't think it's fair if we let everyone get scared and quit.”
“I'm not scared.” Chance huffed. But that wasn't exactly true, was it?
“I'm not saying—”
“Look, just let him drop out, I'll take a bullet next round, so it's not everyone.” Elliot was short with his words, trying to cut the tension. He was doubting them too, they all saw how nervous Chance is, maybe he pities them.
What is he thinking? He was getting all emotional and worked up over nothing. It was Shedletsky, not...him. He was honest, he was genuine, Chance felt bad all over again.
“Sure, that's fine I guess.” Shedletsky spoke.
“No, I should shoot.” Chance abruptly said, impulsive, and not really knowing what he was saying when he said it. He was wrong, he was terrified of this gun now and that was because of iTrapped. If he didn't do it, he's admitting that he's still afraid of him. He can't let iTrapped win, he has to be stronger than this. Just have fun like everyone else is, enjoy it somehow.
“Chance…” came Elliot's knowing voice again, Chance reached for the gun.
The moment he held the handle, Elliot seized his wrist. “Hey, man, come on, don't—”
“Relax, I've got it.” Chance said. “Just nerves.”
“Let him.” Shedletsky urged.
Guest joined in. “Only if he wants to.”
“Yeah. I want to.” He stared at Elliot.
“Chance, you're all over the place right now, you just changed your mind.” Elliot told him, he looked really nervous but his voice stayed firm.
“So I changed my mind, sometimes it's like that.”
“I don't want you to do it.” Elliot murmured.
All eyes were watching them, which was only three people but felt like an entire room. There was a silent standoff between Elliot and Chance, one they were determined to win. Maybe Elliot was only showing concern—but taking the shot would make him feel strong, right? And that's all he really cares about right now. Showing iTrapped that he didn't damage them.
Because only a coward let's that happen, only loser's dwell on these things, and Chance doesn't want that to be him. He has to be stronger.
Chance tightens his grip on the gun, Elliot holds his wrist in place firmly.
“Come on, man, don't.” Elliot shakes his head, voice quiet.
“Chance?” Guest spoke, Chance barely acknowledged him, tilting his head to side to show he heard. “If you're not up for it we won't force you, I wouldn't—"
“I am. He just has to back down.” Chance glared at Elliot. You're not winning this one, just leave me alone and let me do this. It's for myself. "Really, what are you so worried for?"
But Elliot couldn't understand. Could never grasp how much this means to Chance right now, none of them could. Just prove it—survive this next shot and prove that he was wrong about them. They won't even get scared this time, they won't even think about iTrapped.
“Guys! Come on let's just skip this turn!” Noob anxiously called out, Chance had nearly forgotten they were there. Evidently, Elliot wasn't winning this, and he felt a bit smug about that.
“I agree, personally.” Shedletsky huffed.
“Chance—” Elliot tried to speak again.
“We have to wrap this up eventually.” Shedletsky went ignored. He was looking for a win and he wanted it fairly.
“I'm fine, really. Just drop it.” Chance grinned with all his teeth, a cruel, mean smile. Elliot looked sad, for just a moment—Chance hadn't even noticed, but he'd already let go of his wrist a moment ago.
They pulled the gun toward themself. No hesitation this time, they held the barrel to the sky and stared at it—flimsy old thing, completely unreliable. They hoped it at least didn't explode when they fired. He'd rather the death be instant. But he wouldn't die anyway.
Guest watched in enamored silence, Shedletsky was unimpressed—if still a bit put off by Chance's earlier outburst.
He'd survive this shot, it wouldn't go off. It had shot a few blanks since—but that didn't guarantee anything. They put the barrel under their chin again, turning their head up and watching a light on the ceiling.
They stared at it so long that they stopped really seeing anything else. Just that bright, blinding light, like the sun. Chance thought of the moon, how it was the last thing he saw as he bled out, on his back, watching the sky. Show began to fall like stars as the world grew a little bit colder.
Then he pulled the trigger, just like that, no theatrics. Just pressed down and let fate decide.
It was an odd feeling, he heard the bang pretty loudly, but the most they felt was a quick, sharp pain in their head before it was over. Admittedly the sound startled him, his ears were ringing when he opened his eyes.
But even as the sound went away the panic didn't stop, Chance found himself on his back in the grass. Leaves calmly trembling above him. It was deathly silent, and their terrified gasps were obnoxiously loud—but they couldn't stop.
On their back, trees up there, no snow, it's the middle of summer. It's always summer. The gun went off. He died.
He couldn't stop breathing, couldn't calm it down either. And if he was trying not to think about iTrapped before, he was failing immediately now. The moon sat there watching them, just like it had on that night.
He was wrong, so so wrong, he shouldn't have done that. Why would they think it would help? Just doing exactly what he'd want them to do, he'd probably love to see Chance like this—god what an idiot.
He didn't cry, or say anything, or really even move, didn't have a reason to, but the way he was breathing sounded like a damn panic attack. Eventually he got it to slow down but the fear never left. They thought about the gun pressed against their skin, that quick pain they felt. Is that what it would've been like? If iTrapped really got them to do it themselves?
It kind of felt like they'd done it. Like the last few months didn't happen, and they actually did lose Roulette and shot themself dead after. And iTrapped is there smiling, really proud of him for doing it.
Somehow they managed to trick themself, twisted themself around and got all confused—he wasn't sure where the thought of iTrapped had begun and when it devolved into just manipulating himself.
But you fall for it every time don't you, doesn't even matter who's doing it.
Chance sat up a bit, looking around, and startled when they saw a figure watching them. iTrapped—he knows, he was watching, he was waiting for it to happen—he wanted them dead and now he's back.
But it wasn't him, too much black on his outfit—he always hated wearing something dark. No, it was Taph standing silently between the trees. Several feet shorter than the man he'd mistaken him for. He was watching Chance with his blank, dark face, all feathery and shrouded in gold patterned robes, or a cloak, or whatever. Point is it was Taph, not iTrapped. They weren't sure if they were disappointed or relieved.
Taph stared at him, his hands moved silently as he signed. ‘hi’ was all he said, keeping it simple for Chance who only knew that much.
Chance wasn't sure what to say, he was sitting up now, and brought his hands out to try and repeat what Taph had done, but his sign looked all crooked.
He'd always felt a bit awkward around Taph. All things considered he seemed like a genuine guy, always trying to help even if he couldn't, always willing to put a trap down wherever you asked him to. He lingered around the admins, Builderman especially. They were the only ones who understood him, who knew him. All of them were close of course, but Taph never strayed from the flock—Chance understood, in a strange, maybe less literal way, how it felt to only have that small circle where you feel like yourself.
And he felt a bit guilty that he couldn't understand him. Couldn't read what he was saying, and never really tried to understand either. Maybe he should've.
Taph watched them as their breathing slowly evened out, like a patient saint, a little guardian angel waiting out his fear, giving him all the time in the world. Chance felt guilty again, he didn't want to be seen right now. He'd been acting like an idiot, he'd gotten caught up in the past and he didn't want everyone to know about it.
He felt so stupid. iTrapped made him feel like the biggest idiot in the world. Screwed up his better judgement and made him do stupid things.
Taph had his hands folded, and when Chance finally felt his heart stop pounding and his throat no longer ached. He reached a gentle hand out, Chance looked away, considering if maybe they should refuse and stay here and sulk a bit longer.
But Taph was still waiting and they didn't know how to tell him to go away, maybe they didn't want to. So they took his hand.
It was a short walk back to the clearing, Chance felt a bit like a lost child being led back to his mother, but strangely didn't mind it. He rubbed underneath his shades at his sore eyes, the light from inside the cabin shined across the clearing, cutting through blades of grass, very faint but still noticeable.
“Taph, who was it—is that Chance?” Builderman squinted, hammer in hand as he turned his head to the side to look at the trees. He was crouching down pulling up loose floorboards on the porch.
“The one and only.” Chance unenthusiastically replied. “Don't get too excited.”
“...Luck not on your side tonight?” Builderman asked.
“Something like that.”
Taph let go of his hand and pranced on over to them, but Chance lingered just before the treeline. Taph sat down beside Dusekkar and began to talk to him, as if collecting Chance from the woods was just a little errand he had to run—but again Chance found it didn't upset him.
“I’d really love to play with ya, but these boards won't fix themselves.” Builderman said, and he handed the one he'd pried up over to Dusekkar, who had a whole pile of them in his arms. Taph was holding the nails in one hand, and talking to Dusekkar with the other.
“You're just saying that, I know.” Chance told him.
“Yeah I am, I don't get it at all.”
Chance shrugged. “It's not all that, really.” He said. “Just a bit of a thrill, fun stuff.”
Builderman hummed back in response. All three of them looked so peaceful, they weren't really even talking about much of anything, just existing in each other's space quietly. It felt so natural, serene, really. Chance wondered if he should even go back inside.
Builderman paused his work. “You wanna stay and help us out? If you're up for it, that is.”
It seemed like they had enough hands already to get the work done themselves, he wasn't sure how he could help—not exactly a handyman over here. But Chance caught a glimpse of the window, it seemed too bright to go back in. Too overwhelming to face the noise and admit their mistake, admit that they let their emotions rule over reason and pushed themself too far again. It all felt silly now.
As if iTrapped had any connection to them anymore, but he couldn't influence Chance, this was his own doing. Now he was doing it to himself, iTrapped didn't even need to try—so fucking stupid.
He shook his head, banishing the thought, and caught sight of the former admins and the demolitionist all huddled together still, like a little family, like they really all protected and trusted each other. Honestly, and truthfully, and without any bullshit or lies. The thought made him feel warm again despite the cold breeze, and the icy dagger that iTrapped left in his heart.
Chance shrugged, nonchalant. “Y’know what, sure.”
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