Russian Roulette, Da?
The question sent chills down his spine.
"You want to play Russian Roulette, da?" The broken English and thick Russian accent, something the naive young American would normally make fun of, instead made him shudder.
Alfred turned around meeting Ivan's cold, violet gaze.
"Hell No, Commie bastard." Alfred spat.
"That isn't the answer a hero would say, da?" the Russian purred. Sweat dripped down Alfred's forehead, his pride getting the better of him.
"Fine, Commie." Alfred sputtered. Ivan smiled and led Alfred out of the deserted conference room and into a large, dimly-lit room with two chairs in the middle.
"Does the hero want to go first, da? Cause I understand if you're scared." Ivan's happy additude made the hair on the back of Alfred's neck stand up.
"I'll go first." Alfred's pride again got the better of him. Ivan pulled the deadly, black revolver out of his long coat, and Alfred took the gun out of Ivan's hand. Pressing the gun to his temple, Alfred slowed his breath and closed his eyes; preparing to pull the trigger. The American's finger froze, just barely on the trigger.
"Pull the trigger, da, unless you want me to do it." Ivan's smile made Alfred sick. Closing his eyes, Alfred smashed down on the trigger. Click. Nothing happened. Alfred breathed a sigh of relief as he handed the gun to the Russian man, whom gladly took it.
"My turn, da?" Ivan chuckled as he put the gun to his temple and without pausing pulled the trigger. Click. Again nothing. Ivan held the gun out to the younger man who shook as he picked it up. Again he pressed it to his head, but he didn't wait to pull the trigger. Click. Sighing in relief, he handed the gun to the violet-eyed Russian.
Ivan took the gun, as before, and pressed it to his head; pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing again.
"This next turn decides the game, da?" Ivan declared. Alfred gulped, his hands shaking as they reached for the gun. Slowly bringing it up to his head, Alfred tried to calm his racing heart down.
"Maybe Ivan's just messing with me, and the gun isn't really loaded." Alfred thought, his mind racing.
Ivan smirked as he watched the American freaking out. He leaned closer, his violet eyes staring into Alfred's blue ones.
Alfred watched the Russian as if in a trance, and without realizing it, pulled the trigger. BANG! The force of the impact sent the man backwards, Alfred's blonde hair sticky with blood.
Ivan reached down to retrieve his revolver, placing it back in his coat pocket. Walking past Alfred's still body he couldn't help but laugh, for there was no bullet hole in Alfred's head. The Blood wasn't even Alfred's!
The bullet wasn't a bullet, but a plastic capsule filled with pig's blood. It had burst on impact and the force of the blast knocked Alfred unconcious.
Done laughing at his little prank, Ivan frowned. Unfortuanly, the blonde American didn't understand the Russian's twisted sense of humor.