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Roulette
2015.
Seattle, Washington.

The smart, stylish blue suit purchased by the young man before his departure had gotten him a few approving looks from various female passersby on his way over, but it wasn't for them...No, rather it was for him, the man whose door he stood outside of at the current moment. This could, after all, be the suit he was found dead in--he wanted to look nice.

There was nothing sinister or ominous about the building from the outside--it was a plain grey structure, concrete exterior with steel alloy frameworks, nothing setting it apart from the dozens of other corporate high-rises in the area aside from the massive, polished metal front door minus a sign distinguishing or informing upon what lay inside. After three short, quick knocks, an older man, close-cropped black hair peppered with grey and clothed in an all-black suit (aside from his tie, which was bright red), answered.
"Hello..?"
"Mister Tatum? I'm Mister Cox."
The proprietor's eyes lit up with recognition and glee.
"Ah, yes! Today is the 16th, isn't it..? I completely forgot...Well, good to finally meet you in person, my boy. Come on inside..."
"Thank you, sir..."

The interior of the room consisted of a single fluorescent light fixture hovering above a small table with chairs on opposite sides; between them on the flat surface lay a revolver whose nickle-plated sides had been so thoroughly polished that the light reflected off of them was painful to the eyes.
"You are aware of the rules, Mister...?"
"Cox. And yes, sir, I am."
"I see...And you're also acquainted with the 'risks', so to speak..?"
"Quite, Mister Tatum."
"Marvelous...Then let's not waste any time, shall we?"
Motioning for his guest to sit, Tatum approached his own seat and reached for the pistol on the table, stopping himself just short of its wood-finished handle.
"Ah, I almost forgot...The customary handshake."
Cox rose, took his host's hand with a firm grip, then settled back down as a lone cartridge was loaded into the weapon and its chamber given a spin.

"So tell me...Are you a family man, Mister Cox..?"
Swiftly and with a frightening casualness, Tatum raised the gun to his temple and squeezed the trigger, a tiny click echoing through the room before it was passed across the table.
"I was, some years ago. My wife...Well, she left, and my only other family is my daughter, who's off to college..."
Click. Back across the table.
"And her course load keeps her fairly busy, so she doesn't call very often. And yourself?"
"Had a few wives that have come and gone..."
Click. Back across again.
"And a boy who's a military man. He was over in Iraq before the boys over there started getting recalled, so now he's in the Reserves..."
"Huh...That's kinda funny."
"What is?"
Click. The gun was placed back in Tatum's hands for the second time.
"That your son joined the Army. Considering your own chosen profession, I mean...It's a bit ironic that he too would be fascinated with guns, no..?"
"I've found, Mister Cox, that this life can be one grand ironic twist..." Finding himself on the business end once again, he smiled surreptitiously and suddenly whipped the gun back in Cox's direction, thumbing the hammer. "And with a little good fortune, one can turn the tables in an instant."

The bang was deafeningly loud in the room's small space, and as his opponent's head snapped back Tatum's smug satisfaction with his perceived victory quickly turned to horror as he heard laughter, a soft and lilting chuckle that quickly evolved into manic and hysterical guffawing.
"Luck, Mister Tatum..? There's no such thing in this dangerous game we play. Only skill..." Leaning forward, Cox snatched the weapon from his hands and unwound his tightly clenched fist, revealing a golden bullet wedged between his index and middle fingers. "And keen insight."
"I-impossible...How..? When...?"
"If only you hadn't remembered the handshake..." Popping out the chamber, he slipped the cartridge into the next available storage compartment, slapping it loudly back into place. "You would've fired a bullet just now, rather than a blank. All's well that ends well, though, I suppose...It's time to break your winning streak."
"Y-you bast..."

The revolver was double-action, and whereas Tatum had drawn back the hammer for dramatic effect Cox simply fired, exploding his adversary's skull in a rain of blood, brain, and bone fragments that left no surface in the room unstained. Pausing a moment to wipe the crimson coating from his face, he stepped lightly over the corpse and proceeded to the far corner of the room, detaching the small, portable camera whose placement he had arranged from the wall and tucking the device into his pocket.

Less than an hour later, a new video entitled Russian Roulette Double-Cross Gone Wrong!! was uploaded to Darknet.

The End