Russian Roulette.

Above them, the yellow light flickered.

Seven figures sat hunched around a wooden table, the dim yellowness of the light bringing out the mahogany streaks in the table.

All of them sat silently, six of them children, one a hooded figure in black.

On the table lay a hard, black, metallic object, as silent as a killer, waiting to be put to use.

The man in black picked up the revolver, put a single bullet into the barrel and spun it. Without a word, he handed it to the young boy on his left.

The boy took the revolver, his hands trembling, and brought it to his head. He shut his eyes and squeezed the trigger.

The Russian roulette had begun.