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They each sat across from each other at a table. They were bound to their chairs but able to move their arms and heads. They could hardly see in the dark and had been informed that the only way they could see their families again is if they chose to pick up a gun off of the table and shoot the other. One of them, named Robert Martin, had just finished a hard day at work selling phones for Cisco. The other man, Albert Cross, was an ex-convict. They knew one another vaguely–they’d met at a poker tournament in Atlantic City a couple years back and hit it off. They contacted one another via email every few months. And now this.

"Ahh this brings me back" Albert says calmly, as the dim lightbulb slowly swung above their heads.

An evil grin spread across Robert’s face as he stared at Albert and said "Barcelona".

"The time when we single-handedly assassinated the King of Spain and threw a banana peel at President Obama," Albert replied in a contemplative state

All of a sudden the room became radiant and a woman walked in, they looked each other and realised it was a nurse. Her skin was pale and it looked like if someone had bleached her soul, she then picked up what in fact was a syringe and shot the two of them.

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