2 Alea Ludo Chapter 1

The night started like any other. Slow. Only a handful of customers graced the bar with their presence. Not that I could blame most people since the establishment was a rough place of business for those with weak bodies or hearts. I worked long, gruesome hours for low pay. Most of the work didn't even consist of serving drinks to the often rude, and ungrateful customers. I mainly performed maintenance work to keep the establishment standing most of the time.

But it was my home sweet home. Small and cozy. Just the way I liked it.

Since no one else was in the building, I took a seat at the bar and pulled out a letter I stole from my bosses office. I opened the envelope and read through the contents. It was from the IRS. They sought to foreclose on the bar and seize the entire property.

Like hell, I'd allow that to happen.

I crumbled up the letter into a ball and then dropped it onto the floor; where I proceeded to crush it beneath my foot. I refused to allow some piece of paper to dictate when I would lose my home.

I heard the door to the kitchen open, followed up by the sound of boots hitting the hard, wooden floor. Those steps could've only belonged to one person: the owner of the bar and my benefactor, Gideon Maynard.

"You gonna pick that up, Troy?" He asked.

I didn't bother to face him as I responded, "It's not my job to pick up trash."

"What's got you so pissed today?" Maynard wandered behind the bar counter.

"Found a letter from the IRS in your office," I informed him. It wasn't the first time the old man kept something from me. So, I made it a habit of sneaking into his office every now and then to discover his secrets.

"The fuck were you doing going through my office again?!" Maynard exclaimed. The bastard had the nerve to yell at me as if he had the right to get angry about the situation.

I slammed my fist on the bar counter and demanded some fucking answers. "Why didn't you tell me they're looking to foreclose on us?!" The old man heaved a sigh and reached under the counter. He retrieved a bottle of whiskey with one hand and two rocks glasses with the other. "Nothing to say?!"

"Let 'em," Maynard finally responded. He opened the whiskey bottle and filled the glasses. He slid one over to me. "It's been fun and all, but the bar's run its course, Troy."

The geezer downed his drink without hesitation. I stared at mine and slid it back over to him. I wasn't in the mood for a drink. Not in that situation.

"You going soft, old man? You're gonna let those bastards take our home?!" I wondered. Deep down inside I knew the answer. Even when I asked the question, I dreaded his potential response. But, I had to hear it.

"Why not? We can't pay off three hundred thousand and twenty-five bucks in two weeks."

It pained me to hear it. The man that once told me to never give up for most of my life went back on his words. The same words that inspired me through the darkest of times. Inconceivable rage swelled up within me. The white-hot rage blinded me as I picked up my glass and hurled it across the bar. The glass shattered and scattered across the floor.

"I don't believe this shit!" I yelled.

"God damn it! That's coming out of your paycheck!" Maynard warned me.

"Fuck you!"

My next target was one of the bar stools. I kicked it and watched the object soar across the room until it smashed against the wall.

"Stop breaking shit!" He demanded.

"What do you care?! If those fuckers want this place, might as well give them shit to take!"

"That's how it's gonna be, huh? You're just gonna throw a tantrum?"

I took a few deep breathes, using that moment to gather myself and my thoughts. Breaking things around the bar felt good, but it was only a temporary form of release. I had to find something more permanent — a solution.

I nodded my head and went for the door. "No, I'm gonna stop this."

"Stop what?" Maynard asked. The hesitation in his voice worried me for a moment.

"The foreclosure."

"Troy, stop it. You'll never make it in time. I can always find a new home. Maybe the Bahamas or Hawaii."

While his suggestions tempted me, it wasn't enough. I didn't allow his words to sway my decision. My mind was all made up.

"No, we've lost enough shit in one lifetime. I'll be damned if we lose this place." I declared.

"What's your plan here? Get the money, save the bar, and stay here together for the rest of our lives?" Maynard questioned me. It honestly didn't sound too bad for me.

"What's wrong with that? What if that's what I want?" I answered his question with one of my own.

Suddenly, the old man cringed and stepped back with his arms raised. "For the last time, Troy. I love you and all, but not in that way."

The crudeness of his jokes and their inappropriate timing always pissed me off. That time was no different. He hardly ever took anything seriously.

"God damn it, old man! Take this seriously!" I demanded, clearly in no mood to deal with the geezer's shit.

"Learn to take a joke," Maynard laughed.

"Fuck you."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Fine, don't take this seriously. You'll fucking see. I'll come back with the money," I shook my head and opened the door. "I'll fight this even if I have to do it alone."

"You know what happened the last time we fought against life, Troy. How much did we lose?" Maynard called out to me. He brought his hand up to his eye-patch. Meanwhile, I slipped my hands in my pockets and left without another word to him.

I didn't care whether if he believed me or not. Even without his help, I swore I'd get the money somehow and save the bar.

I stepped out and headed down the street. I stopped and stared down the alleyway once a couple of voices reached my ears. Against my better judgment, I entered the alley and scouted the area. It was there I found a mugger holding a man up at knifepoint.

"Quit fucking around and give me everything you got! Don't even think about screaming!" The mugger cautioned his potential victim.

"I wouldn't dream of it," The young man responded with a shaky voice.

"You got ten seconds to hand your shit over! Hurry up!" The mugger demanded.

"Hey! Asshole!" I called out to the bastard. "Take this shit elsewhere! You're too close to the bar!"

Startled, the mugger turned and pointed his knife at me. "Who the fuck are you?!"

"Your worst fucking nightmare if you don't leave," I warned him.

"Don't come any closer! You hear me?! I'll slit your fucking throat if you do!" He rebutted with a warning of his own.

However, I ignored his warning and continued to advance. I slipped my hands out off my pockets and raised them. "You can relax. I'm unarmed."

"Didn't you hear me?! I said--"

I swept my leg out and kicked the knife out of his hand. With him disarmed, he was easy pickings for the rest of the scuffle. I struck the mugger with swift punches and finished him with a knee strike to his masked face. He collapsed into the pile of trash behind him.

"Magnificent! Truly magnificent!" The young man in the well-tailored black suit applauded me as if I put on a damn performance for his viewing pleasure. "Thanks for saving my life."

"Didn't do it to save you. The bar's already got enough problems without some bastard chasing away potential customers." I squatted down and went through the pockets of the unconscious mugger. I found a few bucks and pocketed the money.

"Regardless of your reasons, the fact that you helped me deserves praise." He said.

"I'd rather have money," I bluntly told him. With how fancy his suit appeared, it wouldn't surprise me if he carried a few hundreds on him. My gaze shifted to the knife on the ground next to my feet. "How much money you got on you?"

The man realized my intentions and stepped away with an unsettled expression. "You're not planning on robbing me, are you?"

"Nah, it'd cause too much trouble." I shook my head.

The young man settled down and asked, "Money troubles, I assume?"

"You could say that."

A small smile etched its way onto the man's face as he said, "Well, you're in luck then. I have a proposition of a lifetime for you as thanks for saving me."

"Proposition?" I asked. Initially, I figured it'd be a job offer.

"I'm a game recruiter. I've been looking for suitable participants to play in a few of our life-changing games." He began with his spiel.

I folded my arms and gave the man a sideward glance. "Are you trying to recruit me into becoming one of the players?"

The young man snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "Bingo!"

"What is this for? A TV show? Why should I even bother listening to you?"

"If you agree to become a player, you will be playing a series of games with other players. Should you win, you'll be awarded one million dollars." The man revealed.

"You serious?! One million dollars to play a few games?!" I exclaimed. One million dollars was more than enough money to save the bar and have enough saved over to live a comfortable life if used correctly. A vacation to the Bahamas or Hawaii wouldn't be a problem at all.

The man reached inside his suit and pulled out several photos. "This is what becomes of the winners of our games." He approached me then handed the pictures over.

The pictures featured people with briefcases filled with large sums of money. Their happy smiles brightened up the entire photo. However, there was something off about them. Sure, they looked happy about the money they had won. But their eyes told a different story.

They were vacant. No sign of life or emotion whatsoever was in any of the shown photos. I recognized eyes like those.

"What the..."

"Wealth, fame, power, it doesn't matter what the winners strive for. As long as you win, anything is possible."

"Win, huh?"

"Yes. We're not just going to hand the money over to you. It's funny how people want to be rich but don't make a serious effort to work for it. Well in these games, you must work for it like your life depends on it. In fact, it does."

"What?!" I exclaimed.

"You won't be gambling with money in these games, Ambrose. You'll be gambling with your very life. One wrong move and it's over for you and your bar." The young man warned me. He raised his thumb to his neck then made a cutthroat gesture for emphasis.

"Gambling with my life...are you crazy? There's no way this is real. Or legal." I looked at the man, then the pictures in my hand.

Was it all worth it at that point? If I were to win the games, I could earn one million dollars and save the bar, my home. But if I were to lose, then that would be the end of the line.

"It's better than the alternative." The man nonchalantly shrugged his shoulders. "What did you have in mind instead? Doing honest work? Fundraising? Don't be ridiculous. You'd never make it in time."

"That's..."

"Why are you hesitating, Ambrose? It's one million dollars. People would kill to be in your position right now. You can't be that deep in the hole, could you?" The man's tone grew more mocking.

"How long do I have to make a decision?" I wondered. The situation was all kinds of fucked up. It irritated me that I even considered going through with that smug bastard's plan.

"I'm running short on time. So, now would be nice," He answered, which only weighed more pressure onto my choice. It was my last chance to make up my mind. I could win one million dollars at the risk of losing my life. Was it even worth it?

In all honesty, it was better than nothing. I wouldn't have come close to making three hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars within two weeks. It was my best option. It was either a million dollars or nothing.

"I'll do it," I announced. A mischievous smile plastered on the man's face. A chill traveled down my spine. Now I had done it. I had made a mistake of a lifetime and sold my very soul to the devil.

"Well said." The man extended his arm out for a handshake. While hesitant at first, I eventually reached out then shook his hand. "By the way, I never introduced myself. My name is Trent. What's yours?"

"Ambrose," I answered.

"Let's have fun playing these games together, Ambrose," Trent said with glee. My eyes bulged the moment I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck. I shoved Trent away from me. He smiled as if he had done nothing wrong. Held in his left hand was a syringe.

My vision blurred and distorted.

In a last-ditch effort to save myself, I swung at him. He stepped away as I tripped over my own feet then collapsed onto the floor. Despite my best efforts, the darkness eventually overwhelmed me as I lost consciousness.