Last updated:   Editor: Cubeinator

This Revolver is Fully Trained. Pt 1 JestObserving

At 11:57:22 on Thursday 29th of January, 6 BootLeggers sat around a table, submerged in darkness; all focused on the object in the center of the table, a .38 S&W Special, illuminated by a light. It was empty, for now.
The door to the room opened, and a man stepped in. Of this man your Buzz writer can remember only two things; a mask that covered his details, leaving only a pair of glittering eyes and his lips, curled in a small smile, for view. The other recognisable item of clothing was the green dinner jacket that he wore.
The man stepped up to a podium and lights illuminated the room clearly now. Around the wooden table, were 6 wooden seats, all of which were occupied by someone who clearly looked a little nervous.
“In seat Number 1,” the man on the podium spoke again “, we have JoeJohnson, ranked Boss. Number 2, StrateGizeR, also Boss. Number 3, Perthy, our highest ranked competitor, ranked Legendary Godfather. Number 4, another Boss FORLUCK. Number 5, our final Boss President. And, finally, Number 6, Pringles, ranked Godfather.”
He paused for breath and smiled.
JoeJohnson, StrateGizeR, FORLUCK and President, you are eligible for 250 gold.”
He placed a bag on his podium.
Perthy and Pringles,” a much larger bag was placed alongside the first, “You are both eligible for 1,500 gold.”
“10 minutes of betting before we begin, ladies and gentlemen, 10 minutes.”
His voiced echoed slightly as he switched the microphone off and the light above him went out. Almost instantly, bets were being placed, and then shouted out at the betting stalls set up in the spectator’s room, adjacent to the “Games Room”.
Not being much of a gambler, the majority of bets just flew over my head, but I did make a note of the largest bets that were placed, and accepted, at the end of the article, for those who are interested.
After the initial betting flurry had died down a quiet talk the filled the room, as the spectators watched the clock in the room, slowly counting down the last few minutes. I stole a few glances at the 6 competitors, JoeJohnson, being the first to try his luck looked the most nervous, but not by much; each knew that, at one point, they would be pushing their luck, and they all hoped that it would not be too far.
The light above the podium was switched back on, and the masked man spoke, “Betting for this round, is over.”
He walked down to the table, all eyes followed, competitors and spectators alike. On the table he placed 6 bullets. Picking up the gun, he opened the barrel and slid in one bullet. He pointed the barrel of the gun at the ceiling and pulled the trigger, the resulting bang made many jump in their seats, there was no denying the authenticity of the bullets now.
The empty case was removed and all eyes fell upon the remaining 5 bullets, a present for each of those who pushed their luck that little bit too far. Bullet number 1 was loaded, and the gun placed in front of JoeJohnson.
The man was back at his podium again, with an aura of someone who had performed this task on numerous occasions, “JoeJohnson will go first, please lower the blinds.”
With that command, a metal screen covered the glass window that was the spectators viewing point, separating them from the competitors entirely.
JoeJohnson,” the voice was slightly muffled now, “when you are ready.”
There were a few tense moments before the first trigger pull of the competition, everyone collectively held their breath.
The bang from the revolver echoed slightly from within the concrete walls as several spectators jumped in their seats. It was shocking, JoeJohnson had the best odds going and he was down at the first hurdle.
“1 down, 4 to go” the man said. “Potassium and Lacheh clean up on seat one. 5 minutes more of betting, ladies and gentlemen.”
The head betting official chalked up that JoeJohnson’s death had shared $121,999 between 3 people, he was worth $40,666 to each person.
The metal screen was raised, giving the spectators a clear view again, at face value everything looked as it had before it was lowered, except for two men in yellow jackets, one was cleaning a wall, and the other was removing a chair from the table. However, looking at the scene in more detail, you could easily see the distress and nerves on the faces of the other 5 competitors, not surprising considering they had just witnessed up close what would be the fate of another 4 of them. The gun was again centre stage on the table, now with only 4 bullets beside it. The man in green had walked up to the table, ignoring the looks from the competitors, and loaded the gun with another bullet. He placed it in front of StrateGizeR, who stared at him. Muffled words were exchanged that the spectators could not hear, but from the wide eyes that StrateGizeR had, it was obviously not a pep-talk.
Suddenly, StrateGizeR pushed his chair back and sprinted for the door; in a swift movement, the host picked up the revolver, aimed it at StrateGizeR and pulled the trigger, just as the door was opened.
This bang was louder now, not having the metal screen to muffle the noise at all, nor was it there to cover StrateGizeR’s body hit the floor.
Numerous gasps reverberated around the spectator’s room; it appeared that many had come for the money-making opportunities, not the offer of witnessing death.
The two yellow jackets exited from their side room and went across to StrateGizeR. The man in green had, once again, gone back to his podium, “Due to the breaking of Rule #2, StrateGizeR has been eliminated from the competition,” he was smiling as he said so, “His elimination will be taken in the same manner as if it had happened directly in the competition; 5 more minutes of betting will now commence.”
The gambling results of StrateGizeR’s death were the chalked up, beneath that of JoeJohnson’s. $617,777, 5 people. StrateGizeR’s death averaged $123,555 per person.
The gun was again placed on the table, and was loaded with the third bullet, this time placed in front of Perthy.
“This round signifies the mid-way point in the competition, it is now placed in front of Perthy, our Legendary Godfather, the odds of the 1,500 gold being rewarded are now equal to that of the 250 gold being rewarded.”
The metal screen was lowered just as the host stated for Perthy to pull the trigger in his own time.
Just as the screen reached the bottom of the glass window, the man in green’s voice spoke, “Perthy, wasting no time, has pulled the trigger and is still in the competition. Please pass the revolver to FORLUCK, and when you are ready, FORLUCK.”

Due to time constraints, I was only able to complete half of the writing to a satisfactory standard, if you would like the 2nd part, please either comment below, or send me a BM. I understand that everyone knowing the ending reduces the suspense somewhat!