**Chapter 1: The Dark Game**

The dimly lit room was shrouded in an eerie silence, punctuated only by the soft clinking of glasses and the muted hum of conversation from the waiters as they moved about, serving the patrons. Blue sat across from Dust, a man he had known for a long time, but never truly understood. Dust's eyes gleamed with a manic intensity as he smiled, his teeth seeming to sharpen in the faint light. "Welcome, Blue," Dust said, his voice low and soothing. "I'm glad you could make it. Tonight, we're going to play a little game. It's called Russian roulette, but with a twist." Blue's mind was racing. He knew he had made a terrible mistake coming here. He had always thought Dust was a friend, but now he wasn't so sure. The revolver on the table between them seemed to mock him, its presence a cold, hard fact that he couldn't ignore. Dust picked up the revolver and began to explain the rules. "There are ten slots in this gun, but only two of them are live rounds. You and I will take turns shooting, and we each have five shots. But here's the thing: we don't have to shoot ourselves. We can use our right to shoot anyone else we see around us." Blue's eyes scanned the room, taking in the waiters and the other patrons. They seemed oblivious to the game being played at the table, too caught up in their own conversations to notice the tension between Blue and Dust. Dust leaned forward, his eyes glinting with excitement. "There are only two possible outcomes in this room, Blue. Either one of us survives, and the other... well, let's just say they won't be leaving this table alive. Or, we both survive, and... well, that's a possibility too." Blue felt a cold dread creeping up his spine. "What do you mean, 'the others have to die'?" Dust's smile grew wider. "I mean exactly that. In this room, someone has to die. And if it's not one of us, then it has to be someone else. The odds are in our favor, don't you think? Two live rounds out of ten slots. We have a good chance of surviving... as long as we're willing to take a few risks." Blue knew he was in trouble. He had always been a bit of a pacifist, avoiding conflict whenever possible. But Dust, on the other hand, seemed to thrive on it. He could see the pleasure in Dust's eyes, the excitement of watching Blue squirm. The game was about to begin, and Blue knew he had to make a decision. He could try to play it safe, or he could take a chance and try to survive. But as he looked around the room, he realized that survival might depend on his willingness to hurt someone else. Dust's voice cut through his thoughts. "Shall we begin, Blue? You have the first shot." Blue hesitated, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he had to make a choice, but what was the right one? He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on a waiter who was passing by their table. Could he really shoot someone innocent? Or would he rather take his chances with the revolver? The game had just begun, and Blue's fate hung in the balance.