**The Game of Survival**

Blue's hands were shaking as he picked up the revolver, his eyes fixed on the cylinder as he spun it. He had tried to play it cool, to pretend that he was just as excited about this game as Dust was, but the truth was that he was terrified. He had always been a pacifist, avoiding conflict whenever possible, and the thought of shooting someone, let alone a stranger, made his stomach churn. As he took his first shot, he aimed at the wall, trying to get a feel for the gun. The sound of the trigger clicking was loud in his ears, and he breathed a sigh of relief when the hammer fell on an empty slot. Dust laughed and took his turn, aiming at a nearby patron who was engrossed in his phone. Blue watched in horror as Dust pulled the trigger, and the patron slumped forward, a look of shock on his face. The game continued, with Blue and Dust taking turns shooting at the patrons or the walls. Blue tried to avoid shooting anyone, but Dust seemed to take pleasure in taking out a few more people. As the game wore on, Blue's anxiety grew. He was getting close to his last shot, and he knew he had to make a decision. The cylinder spun, and Blue's heart sank as he saw that the last bullet was in the next slot. He knew it was a 100% chance of a live round. He couldn't bring himself to shoot anyone else, but he also couldn't shoot himself. The rules of the game prohibited it, and besides, he couldn't even consider it. As he hesitated, Dust watched him with a smirk on his face. He knew Blue, he knew that he was a weakling, a pacifist who couldn't even hurt a single ant. Blue's eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape, but there was none. The barrel of the revolver felt cold against his cheek as he raised it, his finger trembling on the trigger. He was scared, so scared, terrified. He didn't want to die. But as he stood there, frozen in fear, Dust's laughter echoed in his ears. Just as Blue was about to pull the trigger, a voice interrupted him. "Sir, would you like a drink?" A waiter stood beside their table, a friendly smile on his face. Blue's eyes were fixed on the waiter, and without thinking, he pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot was loud, and Blue felt a jolt of adrenaline as he realized what he had done. He hadn't even looked at the waiter when he shot him, he had just closed his eyes and started shivering. The waiter's body slumped to the floor, and Blue felt a wave of nausea wash over him. Dust's laughter echoed through the room, a cold, mirthless sound. "You'll get used to it, baby Blue," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'll get used to it." Blue's eyes were fixed on the floor, his mind reeling with horror. He had done it, he had actually done it. And as he looked up at Dust, he knew that he was in this game now, for better or for worse.