The Recall Trials
Chapter 30: Trigger the devil, Wake the Beast

Chapter 30: Trigger the devil, Wake the Beast

CLICK.

That sound....God, that click, I would remember it for the rest of my life. It was the best sound everrr.

I was alive.

I was fucking alive.

I opened my eyes slowly, my hands still trembling around the cold steel.

Sweat rolled down my back. I let the gun fall from my hands, my fingers twitching as they slipped away from the grip.

Everyone was silent, watching. No one clapped. No one cheered. It was like we were all just waiting to see who would die next.

The masked man slowly picked up the revolver. He placed it back on the tray and spun it again.

The revolver turned.

And turned.

And stopped.

It landed on a tall guy....Liam, I think his name was. Broad shoulders, darker skin, a sharp buzz cut. He was the one who spoke up during the vote, said he was from Sector D. Told us he’d been separated from his family since he was a kid. He was one of the people who encouraged Theo...

He stood up slowly.

And then he did something no one saw coming.

He grabbed the revolver....but instead of turning it to himself, he spun on his heel, raised it toward the masked man standing beside the tray.

A collective gasp ripped through the room.

"I swear to God," Liam growled, "anyone tries shooting from the shadows again, I’ll blow this bastard’s brains out."

Everyone froze.

"What the hell are we doing?" he shouted.. "What kind of game is this?! You hide behind masks like cowards while we kill ourselves like animals?!"

The masked man didn’t move.

The entire room was holding its breath.

It was the first time anyone had ever pointed a gun at the people running the game.

And the man in the black suit... just stood there.

No fear. No words. He didn’t even flinch. Like it didn’t matter if a gun was pointed at his head.

Just silence.

People shifted in their seats, we were all amazed.

"Do it," the voice came from the speaker.. "Shoot him."

Liams’ hand trembled, but his grip stayed firm.. He looked between us, his eyes darting from contestant to contestant. Some were crying.. Some just frozen.

"You really think I won’t do it?" he shouted. "I swear to God, I’m not dying like this. I’d rather take one of you with me! I don’t care anymore!"

"Then fire," the voice said again. "If you’re so certain."

The lights flickered for a moment.

Liam hesitated.

And then.....

He pulled the trigger.

CLICK.

Empty.

He froze. Just for a second. His face crumbled.

And then the voice came from the ceiling speakers.

"You missed your luck. You would’ve survived."

Everyone stared, paralyzed.

Before he could even try again....

Gunshots.

BANG. BANG. BANG. BANG

The shot echoed like a thunderclap.

For a split second, I thought he pulled the trigger.

But it wasn’t him.

Gunshots. Rapid. Merciless.

We didn’t see where they came from, but we heard them, like thunder.

"GET DOWN!" someone screamed.

Everything was chaos. We scrambled....chairs clattering, hands grabbing, bodies diving. I pulled Zaara down with me, crawling beneath the table, my back pressed against hers. My heartbeat was louder than the shots. My throat burned.

They weren’t just shooting the guy who pulled the trigger. They were also shooting the masked man. Their own.

Liam dropped to the ground, blood pooling beneath his skull before his body fully hit the floor. The revolver slipped from his hand and clattered beside him.

The same silver-masked figure who’d stood there like some silent god among us suddenly dropped backwards as bullets tore through his head and chest... It was brutal, excessive. The silver metal mask bouncing as it hit the floor. For a second, we thought we’d finally see his face. But no.....beneath the mask was another layer, a tight black cloth covering every inch of skin. No eyes, no mouth. Nothing.

Were they that terrified of us seeing who they really were? Or was it something else? Something worse?

Bullet after bullet. Ripping into already lifeless flesh. Blood spraying the floor like someone tipped over buckets of red paint. It was pure horror.

We were watching execution in real life...and not just punishment. It was message.

A warning.

This game wasn’t fair.

The voice returned. "No one disrespects the rules. Not even heroes."

They killed their own. The masked man was one of them, and they shot him too....just to keep the illusion intact. Just to make an example. To keep the rest of us quiet. In line.

I was shaking under the table. I felt Zaara’s nails digging into my wrist, but neither of us let go.

When the shooting finally stopped, the silence that followed was louder than the chaos.

The bodies twitched for a few seconds... and then nothing.

Then came the footsteps.

More masked men entered from the shadows...three of them, dressed in black, dragging the bodies by their arms like they were garbage bags. Blood smeared behind them, pooling across the white floor.

They didn’t even look at us..

One of them reached down, picked up the silver mask and carried it out like it was more valuable than the body it came from. As he turned the mask in his hand, something caught my eye....a strange marking etched into the surface. It was a serpent just like the one carved into the black card that man gave me.

The doors shut behind them.

Silence.

Not a single person moved. The air felt too heavy to breathe.

Then....

Footsteps.

Another figure walked in.

Wearing the same silver mask.

Just like the one that had been shot minutes ago.

It was the same uniform. Same stance. Same cold posture.

They had a backup plan....like they’d anticipated someone might snap, might rebel.

And the moment it happened, they didn’t hesitate. It was like his death was already decided. Just to keep their twisted game going, they killed one of their own. No second thoughts, no remorse. If they could do that to one of theirs, what chance did the rest of us have?

"Now then," the voice said. "Shall we continue?"

And just like that, the horror resumed.

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