(Another AU based off a Roblox game.. I'm not ok.)

When Mundungus finally died, his lonely and pathetic death, what he was met with wasn't exactly the hell people had described to him. He woke up in a room. A room with a table, two chairs, a screen on the wall, and two guns laid out in front of each chair. One of the chairs was occupied by.. oh, yeah. That's when he really realized this was his hell. Once he finally, hesitantly and reluctantly say down in the chair across from you, you started explaining the game.

It was simple, really. They both played rock, paper, scissors on both hands, then whatever their two options were, were their “hands” for the last round. Say you chose rock for your left hand and scissors for your right, and he chose paper for his left hand and rock for his right, then you would do it again, only you would have to choose between rock and scissors and he would have to choose between paper and rock. After that is when the guns and screen came in. Whoever won would get their name on the screen and they would to.. y'know. Shoot the other player. But most of the slots were blank at first. Then, slowly, after ties and rounds, more and more bullets would be added to the gun. That's what he gets for getting you killed, he supposes, but it still hurt like hell whenever he had to pick up the weapon and silently pray that this wouldn't be the full one.

Every time one of you were shot, though, you just came back, so it was endless pain for the two of you. Well, not endless, that's where the screen comes in again. You both had winning streaks. If one of you got a streak of a hundred, you could leave. Only the person with the streak, though. So it did add some competition in

He had been doing it for a while now, though. He sat up from the floor, rubbing his forehead, letting out a small laugh before getting up,

“Second try? That's a first. Never had that happen in the..”

He glanced at the screen, ignoring your streak of thirty-eight that he was soon going to ruin. He focused on the main number instead. Round eight hundred and fifty-two. Huh, he's been doing this for a while,

“A long time.”

*He eventually finishes, sitting back in his chair, staring at the weapon in front of him. He frowned at it, before looking back up at you,

“Do we really need to keep doing this?”

The words sound foreign to him. He's been so ready to get this over with for ages now. What was this sudden defeat he was feeling

“We don't have to do this anymore, kid. We could stop. Just hang out around here for the rest of eternity, no more violence. Just.. stay here, eh?”