“You don’t wanna do that, friend.”

Near Dogon Village

Following a lead, I drove out for Dogon Village today. It’s a small community to the northwest of Port Selao. I had it on good authority that a major weapons stockpile was there. This was a key hub for both the APR and the UFLL. I needed to check it out.

Unfortunately, after some quick inquiries and searching, I realized the information was either outdated or just plain wrong. There were no weapons stockpiles here. Troop presence was minimal at the moment with only a handful of UFLL militia maintaining the zone and displaying little interest in me. There were no secrets here.

I found a small shop and sat down for soup and a sandwich. The place was quiet. In fact the whole village was quiet.

I’d just finished my soup when I heard a loud POP. And then a commotion, like a scramble of bodies and furniture. Several men spilled into the shop from the rear some laughing, some wide-eyed in shock. They saw me and tried to compose themselves.

The group found a table but I could still see others lingering outside near the back. I went to investigate. Then I heard one of the men, “You don’t wanna do that, friend”.

I ignored him and stepped out the back. A small group of men was huddled near an entrance exchanging money. They parted as I stepped in.

A man was seated at a table. He looked numb, dazed. A pistol twitched repeatedly in his hand. He was staring across the table at a man slumped to the side against the wall. His left temple had a hole spilling blood. His entire face and clothes were soaked in blood. He was dead.

His hand still clutched a pistol. Russian roulette.

“Wanna buy in, friend?”

I turned to see the same man from the shop now staring at me. He gripped a young man whose eyes blinked in terror. He was a merc, probably a thief among this amoral lot. He was shoved to the table as two men pulled away the dead body.

I thrust my way out of the room. I felt physically sick. Boredom and power had stripped away any final layer of decency left to these men. Their souls were doomed and I needed far away from it.

I got in my car and drove as fast as I could.

Back at my room, I took a long hot bath. I wanted to scrub that town from my skin. If only I could scrub it from my mind.

Comments

[Nikolai]

Russian roulette has nothing to do with suicide.

You are partially right, it was "invented" and practiced largely by Russian Officers around a century ago, and it was sort of a duel. It was a way of settling a dispute but instead of shooting your adversary, you both took a chance on death by spinning the revolver with only one bullet in it, then putting it to your head.
Used where shooting your adversary directly would be considered and an unthinkable act, such as shooting a friend or a cousin, but death was believed to be the only honorable way to resolve the dispute.

[Ali]

Throughout my readings i'm noticing a lot of hidden allusions to war films, Apocalypse Now, Deer Hunter

[Sensical]

I have limited knowledge of the origins behind Russian Roulette. I believe one individual informed me that it was indeed invented by Russian military officers somewhere in the late 19th or early 20th century...due to boredom and vodka. "A lot" of vodka, my friend emphasized. My surprise still comes from the idea of finding the word "Russian" at the beginning. Surely this suicidal concept existed (to one degree or another) before the invention of pistols. Before Russia drew its borders on a map. Before vodka was invented. I mean, if schoolchildren will play a game called "Spin the Bottle" -- an activity rife with Russian Roulette-styled outcomes -- then I still have to wonder where the principle originated from. Although, to be clear, it's not a topic I'm committed to researching, first- or secondhand. Perhaps Russian Roulette's original concept is buried somewhere along with the likewise uncredited inventors of activities like Hot Potato, Musical Chairs, or Postman's Knock.