[Per Hand pt.1]

*𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙋𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙖𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙢𝙥𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙬𝙣 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧.*

The room filled with the sound of crinkling plastic as two sandwiches were unwrapped. To keep their wits sharp, they couldn't allow themselves to operate on an empty stomach. All things considered, the sharp taste of the cheese along with the flavorful cured meat showed that the children still held some value to their captors. Manhandling aside. Portioning out some of the water for her twin, Kyrha watched him drink before she was satisfied. As they continued eating, she shared her idea with him.

It was only after she finished speaking that Roman disclosed the mystery of his state. Another reckless bet! From the moment sleep blanketed the gHosts, his warning bells were ringing. However, when the tendrils escaped from their waterbed and he pinpointed the source, he was enticed by the secret domain they'd triggered. By then it was too late to delve into the full scope of the trial and he knew going into unexplored territory would be dangerous, but in his gaming (and life) experience, hidden objectives always yielded a higher return. Besides, he had full confidence in himself, and especially so in his elder twin sister. He just hadn't expected them to enter into a world of illusions created from their childhood memory.

Since entering, he'd been keeping the Nexus blind to the finer details of said memory as well as blocking the persistent prying eyes of the mysterious woman who'd sent them there. Under her watchful scrutiny, it'd be easy to slip up and reveal not only this "King's" true gender, but Ace's secret too. While human Guides were rare, they 𝘥𝘪𝘥 exist, but Ace was a special case since unlike other Guides, his form still experienced the five senses. Revealing such sensitive information was not an option. Stretching himself in so many ways while occupying another digitally-crafted body led to his poor state of health. Naturally, the abuse and biting temperature further exacerbated the fever.

*𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐜𝐤!* Kyrha was highly tempted to beat Roman's face from red to blue, but understanding his condition, she quelled the urge, hitting the concrete floor with a full palm instead. Ignoring the sting, irritation toward his cavalier attitude colored her eyes. She was used to him making crazy instant-made decisions, but when they put him at risk, she couldn't bring herself to condone such foolhardy behavior. Still, she regulated her breathing, calming her inner fire. This wasn't the time nor place to address the lacking areas in his nature. He was unlikely to apply the lessons in her lecture anyway. History was the greatest proof of that. The storm passed and tranquil indifference reigned supreme in her once more.

Returning to the stored cargo, she pulled off the covering from multiple boxes. She placed them strategically around the room. This pattern continued until she brought four of the hemp cloths back to Roman. There she doused two of them thoroughly with the water from the large bottle before having him drink the last remnants until it was completely empty. For now, she covered the other two dry cloths over his body before walking over to the car with her new container.

She rolled under the vehicle, separating the spare fuel vacuum from the metallic gibeon-plated sole. Suctioning out the tank's fuel, she emptied the contents into the bottle, careful not to spill any on her hands. For reasons unknown, she had never minded the scent of gasoline—in truth, she found it almost pleasant. One of her many quirks.

After the last drops plopped into the bottle's grasp, she plugged the hole with a newly retrieved hemp cloth, trapping the scent. The final touches of her preparation were simple. Soundlessly opening one of the many crates she had earlier robbed of its cloth, she gazed down at the tinted flasks, confirming that the insides matched the Russian label. Pulling one out at random, she unscrewed the stopper. Unsealed, she showed her approval at the lack of odor. Truly good stuff. The icy glass against her palm paired well with the cold chill in the air. She could imagine the slow burn of one sip that would slide down her throat and settle in her stomach. Cold on the surface, but a fire within.

She poured part of the vodka onto the same cloth used to plug the bottle. Once fully saturated, like a loving mother, she gently tucked her mock Molotov cocktail into a heap of cloth situated on top of an uncovered crate—choosing this location for the windows high above and dimness below. She continued her crusade, pouring bottle after bottle of vodka over the various hemp coverings she had set on the floors a wide distance apart from her resting spot with Roman.

Drinks in place, she was just missing her guests. The preparation finished, her "kitchen" was ready for the finale. The main course of escape was well on its way, but she was looking forward to dessert. Revenge wasn't meant to be served cold. It should be sweet.

The sun shown high but weak outside the frosted glass. The pale filtered rays gave just enough light to see the dancing dust particles. All was silent. But it would not last for long. Knowing the captors couldn't receive their desired answer during these negotiations, they should be antsy with nerves by now having no positive answer for their employer. Where were they to vent their frustrations? Simple, they'd recently nabbed the two perfect little punching bags.

The door at the end of the corridor slammed open, iron echoing an ominous call. Tension permeated the warehouse once both sides were facing each other. The sinister glint radiating from the men's eyes promised future torture. Looking around at the fabric scattered seemingly at random on the floor's surface, the larger one scoffed. He and his partner placed no importance in these actions, assuming the kids had removed them just to cushion the floor and warm their bodies. At this point, Kyrha truly wanted to thank them for underestimating their youth. Even in the original memory of the kidnapping, they'd treated the children like bumbling idiots incapable of any logical thought. This time too, she would be sure to show them her full gratitude. She had even made it extra special on account of their involvement concerning her brother's serious condition.

Unable to read her thoughts, the man's gruff voice sounded, dripping with ill intentions. "You like games? Come, we play one similar to Russian Roulette. Since you are little, we make rules simple." The other one, slightly smaller in frame, pulled both children up before stepping back and removing a customized sleek revolver aimed in their direction.

The first guy continued after removing a similar gun from his waistband and loading the chamber. "No chance, just choice. We only need one of you now. So who lives?" Though he accompanied his offer with a smile, there was nothing civil about it. Feeling generous, the man gave them three minutes to consider, then the one to live on would have to shoot the other.

They seemed to derive twisted pleasure from the promise of seeing loved ones turn against each other. Playing along with their sick pastime, Kyrha pretended to deliberate with Roman as the two crouched and conversed in hushed whispers. They portrayed conflicted expressions dyed with fear. Three minutes passed in the blink of an eye. Like a martyr, Roman valiantly conceded, entrusting Kyrha to live on for him and protect their parents in the future. She blinked away tears, nodding imperceptibly as she crawled to pick up the gun. The shorter man kept his piece trained on them all the while.

Standing up, she looked gravely at the heavy weight resting in her hand. Her childish face created a sharp contrast to the serious atmosphere. Their surroundings fell quiet as the two adults regarded them with unguarded amusement. Roman closed his eyes in resignation.