On a lone empty street, the steps of a vacant man are heard as he heads towards the grand event taking place in the Sand de Royale hotel. He looks at the skyscraper and the columns of light emanating from it. Instead of admiring its beauty, the only thing passing through his head is “Senzo said I shouldn’t be late, so tardiness is the sin of the night.” he then sighs before starting to walk briskly. Fixing the collar of the refined trench coat he received to ‘fit in’ and straightens his glasses.

  The memory of the phone call is still fresh in his mind. Remembering Senzo’s words, “When you get there, just look for some frenzied looking man with a suit worse than yours! Just remember, the boss is doing a favour by helping you! We can’t afford to look bad, especially now. Oh, and I left a special message for you with the messenger, when he finds you, he will tell ya. Don’t forget to smile, Ken!”

  Remembering his name being said by that man makes him feel uneasy. As he continues walking, his mind is awash with thoughts.

  “What if they catch me?”

  “What if it is a trap?”

  “How will I get out?”

  But all of his thoughts then return to the central question: “How will I kill Markov Vordier?”

  He rubs his brow and takes a deep breath, “Calm down. I can't afford to be this rattled. Not now. Let's just wait and see what happens.” He says to himself.

  Finally making it to the front of the hotel, it seems that the celebration is in full swing. Paparazzi are present everywhere, hoping to get a shot of some celebrities while the orderlies are too preoccupied with them to take notice of anything else. Civilians are also rushing around as they move from one attraction to the next. Fortunately, the chaos will make it easy for Ken to make it through unnoticed. He turns his attention to the front doors, and as expected, it is heavily guarded.

  He starts scanning the area, looking for a person who fits the description Senzo gave him. After a few moments, he looks back and sees a lone man poorly watching the crowd with a parcel tucked under his left arm.

  He slowly approaches him and takes note of his rather dirty suit and messy hairstyle. What's more strange is that it appears he is speaking to himself.

  Ken sighs, thinking to himself, “Well, Senzo did say we were low on manpower.” After double-checking that he fit the description, he speaks to him, saying, “Excuse me, are you looking for me?”

  The man doesn't turn around and continues watching the crowd.

  Trying to grab his attention, Ken places his hand on his shoulder and repeats himself, “Excuse me, are you looking for me?”

  The man then turns around immediately in surprise. There is an awkward pause before the man hurriedly blurts out, “Only 999 to go.”

  Upon hearing those words, Ken feels his heart stop for a moment, and a short surge of hatred and anguish passes through his entire nervous system. He pauses for a second, realising he is losing his composure. Calming down, he could only chuckle, saying, “Makes sense.”

  Accepting the cards he has been dealt, he continues. “Tell him it will be done. Thank you for the delivery.” He raised his hand to receive the parcel. However, there is a moment of awkward silence before the man realises he has to hand over the parcel. Receiving it, he then nods to the man and walks off into the crowd. “We must be desperate to be using civilians like this.” He thinks to himself, walking to a quiet corner away from prying eyes.

  Before opening the parcel, Ken looks around one more time to make sure he is alone. Confirming he was safe, he opens the package to find a golden card, a letter, and a bag of poker chips.

  The letter read as follows:

  “Hey.

  I used some of the funds and our contacts to make sure you're on the list. Make sure to show this to them and you're in (And don't forget, your name is Nikolas Kaido). I also added the poker chips they sent with the invite. It's insanity, they actually give the guests some free chips to suckered them into gambling all of their money. Don't fall for the pretty ladies and the adrenaline. That place is a money trap.

  Also, the informant got back to us. MV is going to be on the 9th floor in room 27. So make sure you have an escape route (unless you plan on jumping XD)…”

  Ken took a pause before continuing, needing a break from Senzo's morbid sense of humour. Recollecting himself, he continues reading through.

  “...he also has some guards nearby, so make sure to account for them. His benefactor shouldn't be there as he is ‘managing the masses’, so he should be weaker than usual.

  Here's a pic of his latest look. Make sure to memorise. (Also, his side piece is pretty cut-”

  He took a pause again and rubbed his eyes. “I swear I'm going to kill this guy.” Skipping over the director's commentary, even having to flip it over. Finally finding where the critical information resumes,

  “B also wanted me to remind you of the severity of this mission and to burn this as soon as you're done reading.

  Good luck

  S.

  P.S. If you win a lot, make sure to spend it on hot wom-”

  Ken immediately takes out his lighter and burns the letter. Adhering to the instructions and retaining his sanity. He then studies the picture. From its looks, Markov is a bulky-looking man, the white suit he’s wearing barely able to contain his muscles. He sports some shades and is bald, his goatee amplifying his already threatening demeanour. Memorising the pictures and subsequently burning the picture, he says to himself, “Let's begin.”

  He places the bag of chips in his left pocket and the invite in his inner right breast pocket. He returns to the festivities, pushing his way through the crowds of people. Unlike the more well-known celebrities entering via the red carpet, he moves behind the paparazzi to the doors, entering the hotel.

  He looks around and is slightly taken aback by the extravagance of the location. The walls were painted with a golden hue, and chandeliers with multiple levels hung overhead. He regained his composure, making sure he looked as if he weren't impressed. He looked behind the reception counter and saw that to reach the elevator to the rooms, he would have to pass through the casino's ground floor. In addition to the crowds of aristocrats, either drunk on alcohol or adrenaline, the floor was littered with security.

  Approaching the counter, the receptionist greets him with a warm smile, “Welcome, sir, to the Sand de Royale hotel. Do you have reservations with us this wonderful evening?”

  Ken reaches into his breast pocket and takes out the invite, sliding it over to the receptionist.

  “While you wait, sir, you are welcome to sit in the waiting area and have some refreshments,” gesturing to an open lounge with an open view for the security to watch.

  Ken takes this opportunity to further scope out the location. Walking over to the cucumber water dispenser, he sneaks a peek at the ceiling. “Covered with cameras. Makes sense, you don't want to have someone getting too lucky at the tables.” Taking a seat, he looks around further. Besides the over-affectionate couple in the waiting area, he finds nothing new. Taking the opportunity, he quickly sends a message to Senzo, “I’m in the waiting area. More security than expected.”

  “Excuse me, Mr. Kaido.” The receptionist calls out. Ken, uncomfortable with the security's constant surveillance, quickly returns to her. “Our apologies for the wait. Everything appears to be in order, so here is your room key. “ Your room is 421 on the 6th floor, and you can use the elevator at the end of the casino to reach it. Please be sure to take advantage of the complimentary chips you received with your invitation, and remember to try and write your name across the sky!”

  Ken swiftly grabs his room key and makes way to the elevator at the end of the casino. Before going into the casino, they quickly conducted a search on him, making sure he didn't have anything ‘unfortunate’. But luckily, they found nothing besides the chips, his phone, and his key card. He walks quickly past the casino tables, hearing all sorts of noises and cheers of people's vices being fulfilled. Before he can get any further, he is blocked by a waitress in a rather alluring outfit.

  “Excuse me, sir. I couldn’t help but watch you since you entered. Aren’t you going to at least play a round or two?” she says with a concerned tone and somehow striking a suggestive pose.

  “Uhm...No, I-I don’t feel well. I was hoping to take a rest in my room.” Ken says, barely hiding his embarrassment. Grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the tables, she says, “Whaaat? Come on, just play one round, I’m sure winning at the tables will fix you right up!”

  Unable to say no, he is unfortunately dragged to a blackjack table.

  She looks at the dealer and asks, “Are you starting a round?”

  “Yes, and it seems that gentleman is on a hot streak tonight.” He says, smiling and pointing to a well-dressed man with shady glasses.

  “Oh, that’s fantastic! This young cutie is a little shy and wanted to show him that there is nothing to be afraid of!” she says with the utmost confidence.

  “I see.” He then gestures to an open seat, “Let’s see if we can do something about that.” Held captive by the dealer and the sparkly-eyed waitress, he awkwardly takes a seat.

  She places a drink in front of Ken, saying, “And to make you feel right at home, this one is on us!”

  The dealer then begins shuffling the cards in a mesmerising manner, captivating the players at the table, including Ken himself. “So what are you staking, sir?”

  Ken, trying to remember the game, asks, “I need to get to 21, right?”

  “Bingo!” the dealer replies.

  “Alright, then I’ll bet…” Ken quickly looks through the chips in his bag, taking the smallest one he can find to bet. “I bet 5,000 Kays.“ Placing the chip on the table, to the ridicule of the other players.

  “INVALID STAKE. PLAYER IS-” Shouts a voice. Ken immediately looks around, but everything appears normal.

  “Uhm, sir?” Asks the waitress, trying to get Ken’s attention back at the table. He looks back at the table, and everyone looks unaffected. As if they didn’t hear the voice.

  “Sorry about that, I thought someone called my name.” He chuckles nervously.

  “Well, pay attention! The dealer is about to deal the cards.” She says, pouting slightly.

  The dealer hands out the cards. Ken looked at his hand and was dealt an ace and a king, while the dealer had an 8 and a 3.

  “WOW, you got a really good hand! You must have some wonderful luck!” the waitress smiles, seeming as if she had won.

  “Would you like to go again, sir?” asks the dealer to a confused Ken.

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  “Hmmmm. I see how this works. In the next round, I should win until they start sinking me. Continue the act for now,” thinks Ken silently. He then looks up and maintains his previous composure. “Oh, r-really? I won, I suppose that is good, but maybe I should stop here for tonight.” He says, rubbing the back of his head and giving an awkward smile.

  “You’re insane! You just won a round and don’t wanna see how far it takes you?” says an elderly gentleman on the other side.

  “I suppose one more round wouldn’t hurt.”

  The table roars in a small cheer, and Ken looks in his bag again. He takes a slightly bigger chip, saying, “I guess I’ll bet this then on the next round.”

  “INVALID STAKE. PLAYER IS CURRENTLY IN DEB-” The voice from earlier shouts again, before cutting off.

  Looking around, Ken sees nothing out of the usual. In the same fashion, the dealer hands out the cards. Ken receives a queen and a 5 while the dealer is dealt a jack and a 9.

  “Sir?” asks the dealer, watching his response.

  “Hm, seems like a bad hand. But let's try our luck!” the waitress says.

  The elderly gentleman next on the other side smiles and says, “You know what, bet on this and even if you lose I’ll cover ya!” he says, showing the same chip.

  “Smart.” Ken thinks, “The dealer must be skilled.” He then speaks, “Okay. Hit me!” The table silences in anticipation.

  The dealer hands out the next card.

  Slowly looking down. It’s a 6.

  The table roars in excitement as they watch the ongoing game. He jumps in celebration and purposefully knocks over the glass, messing the expensive-looking suit of the player next to him.

  “Oh, I am so sorry, Sir!” Bowing up and down, as if Ken were trying to break a world record for most apologies in a minute.

  “It’s no issue, I-” The man says before Ken interrupts, “I’ll quickly grab a napkin! Please wait here, I’ll be back shortly.” He runs off before the waitress has a chance to stop him.

  He walks straight to the bar, but as soon as he can’t see them, he changes direction for the stairs. Taking the opportunity to get back on track

  “I’ll take the elevator on the second floor. They will probably try to cut me off if I directly take the one here.” Upon reaching the second floor elevator. He enters and presses the number 4. Taking advantage of the empty elevator, he takes a moment to think, “That voice from earlier, what was that? Hmm, better leave that for later. Right now, I am in the tiger's den. I need to wait for Markov to arrive. Seeing as there was neither an announcement nor some hypocritical speech, he’s either wrapping up his dealings or isn’t here. I’ll make my move once I get a sign.” Wrapping up his thoughts, the elevator arrives on the sixth floor. It’s vacant of guests, but some of the waiters are walking around bringing food and taking dishes away. Reaching his room, he uses the keycard and enters his room.

  He looks around and takes in the temporary extravagance he has been afforded by Markov's tardiness. Ken begins checking around the room for any signs of tampering or surveillance. Since he got into this line of work, this has become a ritual for him. Finally confirming the room is private, he flops lazily onto the couch. Waiting.

  2 hours later, he is watching a comedy on television, weirdly engrossed. As the character in the movie is about to deliver his punchline, the music below suddenly quiets down, and can vaguely hear a man giving a speech.

  “Guess it is time to get going.” He says, slowly standing and stretching. Leaving the room, he begins climbing the stairs to the 8th floor, noting the guard presence on watch by the 9th floor stairs. Before continuing further, he checks the digital map on the wall. According to it, room 27 on floor 9 is directly above room 899. Walking to the end of the hallway, he sees a window. Opening it and peeking outside, seeing that the balconies are not above one another, giving a risky way to reach the 9th floor.

  Looking around, he finds the light switch for the hallway and turns it off. Looking to see which rooms are currently occupied based on whether there is light peeking from under. Fortunately, most of the guests are on the ground floor, including room 899. “Glad I didn't waste my luck at those tables.” He says to himself as he smirks. He quickly takes out his lockpick and picks the lock on the emergency keyhole for the readers. “I need to be quick, I’m unsure if they have alarms on these.” He thinks to himself. Successfully unlocking the door to room 899, he opens it slowly to confirm that the room is empty. Ensuring no one was in the room. He quickly walks to the balcony, opens the door, and goes over to the railing. Looking down, if he fails, he’ll fall to the 6th floor, but by now, he’s used to this song and dance. After checking that the railing is secure, he quickly takes some steps back and sprints, using the railing as a stepping stone and managing to grab the floor of the balcony.

  “Yeah, I still hate this part.” He grunts as he climbs above the railing and onto the balcony of room 927. Before entering the room, he looks around and finds no guards on the inside.

  “Perfect. I bet that if I can hide in that closet, or under that bed, I can catch him off guard and take him out.”

  A voice then booms in Ken’s head, “THE BET HAS BEEN PLACED, NOW WHAT ARE YOU STAKING?” The voice catches him off guard and quickly takes a defensive stance, checking all his corners, but finds no one.

  “There it is again! What does it want?” Ken thinks to himself.

  “WHAT ARE YOU STAKING, PLAYER? IF YOU DO NOT STAKE ANYTHING, THE BET WILL BE CALLED OFF!” The voice continues.

  Ken then pauses and recounts all the times the voice was heard. Retaining his cool and thinking, “I first heard it when I placed my bets, it showed up twice. And now, it appears again. Could it be because I was making bets?” The thoughts lining up, he conducts a test. “Okay, I call off the current bet.”

  As if he is speaking to it directly, the voice responds, “THE BET HAS BEEN ANULLED. AS NOTHING HAS BEEN STAKED, THERE SHALL BE NO QUALMS.”

  “Okay, let’s try something small.” Looking around, he then thinks of something simple, “Okay, I bet 25 Kays that I can jump.”

  “INVALID BET AND STAKE. PLAYER IS CURRENTLY IN DEBT TO THE MAXIMUS, HENCE ALL MONETARY BETS ARE ANNULLED. ADDITIONALLY, THE PLAYER IS STAKING AN IRRELEVANT ITEM TO THE BET, SINCE NO RELATION IS FOUND, THE BET IS ANNULLED.” The voice replies.

  “It know about my debt? Interesting. It also has a rule of what I can stake. Relevant, huh.” Looking at his legs, he understands what needs to be done and speaks again, making sure not to grab unwanted attention, “Okay then, I bet my left leg that I can jump.”

  “THE BET HAS BEEN MADE AND THE STAKE HAS BEEN DECLARED! I WILL TAKE THE STAKES UNTIL THE RESULTS HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED.” The voice responds, somehow sounding more theatrical, as if in a game show.

  Suddenly, Ken feels unbalanced and falls to the railing, grabbing it. “What the?” Almost as if he had a feeling of what happened, he looks at his left leg only to find that it has completely disappeared. He nearly lets out a scream of horror, but catches himself before he can give away his position. “Okay-Okay, breathe…what happened? Why is my le-” he suddenly remembers the bet and realises that he put himself in a disadvantageous position and needs to fix it before anyone enters the room. He quickly tries to stand up, albeit struggling as he has never been one leg short before. Finally achieving a temporary balance, he mentally prepares for the worst and being scammed. Before he jumps, he weirdly feels a bit more energy from it. “Is this cause I’m more focused on it now? What's happening?” He refocuses and readies himself.

  With as much energy as is needed, he jumps with his right leg, surprisingly reaching a bit higher than expected. Unfortunately, he doesn’t land as gracefully and avoids hitting his head on the floor by grabbing the trusty railing again.

  “THE BET HAS NOW CONCLUDED AND THE PLAYER HAS FULFILLED THE CONDITIONS. THE WINNINGS ALONGSIDE THE ORIGINAL STAKE SHALL BE RETURNED!” the voice triumphantly announces.

  Ken immediately looks and sees that his leg has returned, suddenly feeling as if it has more energy as well, and breathes a sigh of relief. Standing up slowly, he quickly shakes each leg, checking its condition. “Okay, this may be useful.”

  Slowly entering the room, he quickly checks the room to make sure that there are no unforeseen surprises. Looking in the drawer, he finds a gun. “Hmph, predictable.” He smirks to himself, unloading the chamber and emptying the bullets in his pockets, returning it after he was done.

  After looking around, the room was also absent of surveillance. But while checking, he found a couple of valuables belonging to Markov, well, formerly belonged to as he places the items in an empty briefcase and places it on the balcony, out of sight.

  “Okay, let's do this,” Ken whispers to himself, planning the execution. “I can’t afford to be noisy, while these rooms are soundproof, the guards will still be able to hear gunshots, so no guns.” Looking towards the corkscrew next to the complimentary wine. “Could work, but could be messy if I’m not careful.” He looks to the balcony, “Knocking him out and then an unfortunate fall, even better. But…” He peeks over, surveying the surroundings down below. “Looks like the gardens are having a banquet. Too risky. Don’t need unnecessary collateral.”

  “Maybe, if I knock him out first-” Before he can finish, he suddenly hears music coming from below. “Okay, need to hide quickly. Opting for the least risky option, he crawls under the bed. Suddenly, his phone buzzes, taking it out and quickly looking, it’s Senzo. Before answering it, the door opens. “Looks like he finished sooner than expected.” He thinks, muting the phone and tucking it away.

  He watches the Markov's feet move from the door to the wine bottle, pouring himself a glass. After taking a small sip, he walks to the balcony.

  Taking the opportunity, he quickly, but quietly, rushes to the door and locks it. Turning around, he is suddenly held at gunpoint by Markov.

  “I had a feeling Phenton would send over a little rat, but didn’t expect it to be some sad-looking boy.” Markov says, smirking.

  “How did you know?” Ken confusedly asks, trying to figure out how he was caught.

  “It seems your greediness gave you away. Did you really think I wouldn’t have an alarm on my suitcases?” He then shows the alarm notifications on his phone.

  “Damn it. Out of options.” Ken begrudgingly thinks to himself. He quickly peeks at the open drawer, and suddenly his confidence returns as, “Okay, this could work. Let’s try our luck.”

  “Well, I could let you go if you are willing to answer so-” Markov's voice trails off as Ken focuses.

  “Got it, I bet my left arm that I could break his Jaw.” Ken thinks quickly, hoping the voice will respond.

  “THE BET HAS BEEN MADE AND THE STAKE HAS BEEN DECLARED! I WILL TAKE THE STAKES UNTIL THE RESULTS HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED.” The voice answers his thoughts as if spoken to directly.

  Ken’s left arm immediately disappears as expected. Looking back at Markov, his face is twisted in shock, having witnessed Ken’s hand disappear. “WHAT THE HEL-” Before Markov can finish his sentence, Ken has already taken advantage of the confusion and closes the distance between them. His right arm suddenly feels stronger, and feels as if it's being pulled to Markov's face. Markov tries to retaliate by shooting his gun, but it only clicks as there are no bullets. With a powerful swing, Ken’s fist lands cleanly on his jaw. Sending his teeth flying in all directions. But the punch was more powerful than expected, as it caused Markov's body to perform a spin in midair before landing.

  The fight suddenly over as quickly as it began, the voice triumphantly says, “THE BET HAS NOW CONCLUDED AND THE PLAYER HAS FULFILLED THE CONDITIONS. THE WINNINGS ALONGSIDE THE ORIGINAL STAKE SHALL BE RETURNED!” returning his left arm more invigorated.

  Ken, catching his breath, looks over to Markov's body, checking if he is still alive. Suddenly, his body starts squirming, struggling to breathe as blood from his broken jaw seeps into his throat. “Please, forgive me. It is either you or I.” Ken says aloud as he picks up the corkscrew and begins slowly walking towards the struggling man. Markov notices and begins crawling away, albeit struggling as he seems to have lost some function over his body. “It’s either you or him.” Ken repeatedly thinks to himself. “I’ll-...I’ll try to make it painless.” He says apologetically to struggling Markov, who is kicking his legs in an attempt to run away, but unfortunately, he isn’t able to move far enough. He readies the corkscrew in his right hand.

  Finally reaching him, he kneels, “I’m sorry.” He shoves the corkscrew into his neck quickly and jumps back. He watches as Markov struggles for air as the blood fills his lungs. Ken can only watch in horror as Markov’s movements begin slowing down, until he is finally still. Ken takes a deep breath and photographs the body for proof. He washes the blood from his hands and grabs the suitcase on the balcony. Before jumping off, he quickly digs in the suitcase and finds the tracker Markov mentioned, promptly throwing it over the balcony and into the gardens. He looks over the railing to judge the distance and climbs off the railing and hops off the wall onto room 899’s balcony and enters the elevator. He remains silent, plagued with images of Markov's struggling body as it struggles for life.

  Arriving on the ground floor, Ken makes his way to the reception. As he walks through, he can see that the event is in full swing as everyone is celebrating. Everyone is either celebrating happily, drinking, or laughing. As he continues forward, he avoids eye contact with anyone. He quickly walks past the reception desk and onto the street, although there are celebrations here, they aren’t as extravagant as the ones inside.

  Ken starts walking away from the hotel and towards the agreed-upon meeting point. As he moves further away, the crowd becomes thinner, even walking past some people who weren’t so lucky at the casino, cursing it. He takes out his phone and immediately dials Senzo’s number. The phone rings, but no one picks up. After being directed to voicemail, he tries again, and again. Seeing it as pointless, he feels uneasy as he begins jogging to the meeting location.

  As he arrives at the house where he was meant to meet Senzo, he sees that the windows are cracked and the door is open ajar. Slowly approaching, he opens the door and finds Senzo covered in blood, trying to pick up Byron from the floor.

  “What the hell happened here?!” Ken asks. He looks around, seeing a flipped-over table and blood splattered on the walls.

  “Ken, you survived!” Senzo says, as he gives a weak smile, “Help me out here, Byron is too heavy for me to carry on my own.” He looks at Byron, who seems worse off than Senzo. His face is covered in blood and burns, and his prized arms have serious bruising. Seeing a man who exuded raw power reduced to this didn’t sit well with him. Moving past the damage, he quickly goes to Byron's free side and helps Senzo pick him up.

  “So what exactly happened?” He asks Senzo as he helps carry Byron through the door.

  “Remember that dude who delivered the parcel to you?” Senzo replies, struggling through the pain.

  “Yes?”

  “Well, I don’t know who he was, but…” He pauses, seeing as if he is still trying to understand what happened, “...He got the upper hand on us all of a sudden, and…and I think he killed Phenton.”

  “That’s possible?!” Ken replies in shock as they reach a desolate alleyway.

  “Yeah, and with what we did today, we are on the hit list.” He chuckles, laughing at the absurdity of the situation.

  Having both lost more than they expected that night. They continued silently, understanding that now, they have lost everything and have made some powerful enemies.