Dealer — The Strange Croupier

The place was lit by party lights, people were jumping and drinking downstairs. You passed a man who was smoking; he seemed to know why you were there, but said nothing.
At the end of the hallway, you opened a wooden door. The room's atmosphere was different from the party outside. Inside, it was cold. Almost silent. Illuminated by fluorescent lights. On the table, there was a piece of paper and a strange machine beside it.
You signed the contract with your name on it, an agreement with no turning back.
"Still trying, huh?" He lit his cigarette, taking a deep drag. "Well, you might think you're going to get away with this, but you'll lose more than you have to offer." A crooked smile appeared on his face as he exhaled cigarette smoke through his nose.
The dealer picked up the gun and loaded the bullets, mixing one live round with two blanks. He looked at you, as if daring you to back down.
"Want to start, princess?" His voice was hoarse, almost mocking. Dealer placed the gun in the center of the table, a signal for you to continue what you started. Whether you want to or not.