Chance
The noise drew her curiosity, and now she sits at her window and watches.
The man on the street with the needles has attracted quite a crowd. I wonder what makes them do it.
She rises suddenly from her spot at the window and heads down the stairs and out the door onto the street.
Maybe if she can see their faces she'll understand.
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Why would people risk so much for this? she asks herself.
And, in searching their eyes, she finds the answers.
She sees the adrenaline junkies, the thrill-seekers. They are visibly excited at the prospect of this game of roulette, this newest gamble with the highest of stakes.
She notices, too, others who appear to believe they have nothing to lose. In their faces she finds sadness and, at the same time, the hope that maybe this will give them a purpose. Frowning, she hopes the same for them.
The crowd begins to dwindle, and she turns to go back inside. The reasons of the others have not convinced her.
But a voice stops her.
"Hey, you!" It is the man with the needles, calling to her.
"I've still got some left," he says. "Do you want it? You know the risks – fifty-fifty…."
And he holds the serum out to her.
Fifty-fifty, she thinks.
50 chance you're dead within two days…
She starts to shake her head.
…and the rest, a chance to change the world.
She stops, standing motionless for a long moment.
Finally, she understands.
A/N: Okay, I mainly wrote this so I could get over the last few seconds of "Fifty-Fifty" without having to ramble on about it to all of my friends and actually sound as obsessed as I am. (It was written at the end of August; problems with section breaks delayed its posting.) It isn't one of my better stories, in my opinion, so if you enjoyed it, I'd love a review.