[Per Hand pt.2]

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

A full chamber. Six bullets.

Quicker than either man could respond, she shot successively five times.

*𝐁𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐠!*

Aim sure and true. The results came without pause. Both men fell, collapsing to the ground like deadweights. One bullet to the radial artery penetrated his wrist, the gun pointing at them clattering safely from his grasp. Another to the other man's femoral artery where blood soon gushed forth like a hose from his leg.

The third and fourth shot out the windows up high for the smoke that would accumulate later to escape. Glass shattered like a bladed symphony. The pieces raining on the ground, the endless striking of soft chimes and cymbals.

The fifth bullet collided with the mock Molotov cocktail, creating a domino effect of explosions—the first resulting from the reaction between the gasoline and vodka-soaked cloth igniting into beautiful blue flames. The flasks under the pile burst like mini fireworks. She pulled the waterlogged covering high, shielding both of them as best as she could. Roman reveled in the chaos from his viewpoint below. Still scarlet-cheeked, the flames painted additional golden and azure hues on his complexion. The gold flecks in his eyes reflecting his sister's masterpiece. Breathtaking. The strong heat fighting back the cold, the view warmed their hearts.

The scorching cobalt blaze jumped from cloth to cloth, creating a fiery trail that soon reached the other crates. The semi-trapped residual fumes of evaporated alcohol encouraged the controlled flames. A series of explosions from the combusting merchandise ensued, the final crescendo.

The last bullet she kept for emergency.

Surprise was the etched onto the two adults' faces, disbelief blatantly carved into each visage even as they shortly lost consciousness while the red continued to flow on the white concrete. A cruel but artistic water-like portrait, the morbid brush elevating the untouchable charm of death. It all happened so rapidly that they had not even had the opportunity to resist, let alone verbalize the excruciating pain. Whether they had blacked out first from the searing wave of agony throbbing from their wound or the loss of blood that immersed them in a dizzying lightheaded state was unknown. Whether they would be saved in time and ever reawaken to see the dawning of a new day again had yet to be determined as well. Not that the twins cared, the men's fate held little importance to them.

"I hope you enjoyed the gift I personally prepared for you. Unfortunately, I didn't make seconds." She kept a straight face, but if one looked closely, there was a smile in the depth of her eyes. There was no response, but she took no offense. It wasn't like they could have actually done so anyway. She patted the imaginary dust off the hardworking firearm with the edge of her sweater. "Not bad." Content with the outcome, she bent down next to Roman.

Huddled under the wet hemp fabric still dripping with water, they watched the raging fire spread, unworried about their safety. The ocean of concrete between them and the strewn alcohol-soaked coverings, the newly created ventilation windows, and the vodka itself helped to control the fire. Although this particular 100 proof vodka was highly flammable, it had just reached the necessary hurdle to carry a low consistent burn. The siblings only prayed that the escaping smoke would be enough to indirectly call in an emergency response from outside soon. No matter how reluctant a person might be to personally lend a hand, in such a case, it was very likely someone would at least alert the police or fire department—especially those in the neighboring buildings, if only to avoid getting caught up in the same fire should it continue to spread. She kept both of their heads covered to minimize smoke inhalation. Her eyes shut out the burning prickling while Roman released a few hefty coughs.

From a distance, the soft cry of sirens called from the shattered windows. As the sound approached, they eventually overpowered the audible crackling of the fire. Aware of their imminent rescue, Kyrha further secured the majority of Roman's face under the wet fabric by using hers as well. Holding fast to the gun in one hand, she reached for the discarded revolver, now painted crimson, with the other. She kept her guard between her brother and the fallen men. Training her eyes on the large shuttered door, she waited for friend or foe, hoping it was the former. She remained vigilant just in case.

When the authorities rushed in, they were stunned to the point of doubting life after encountering the cryptic scene before them.

A beautiful little girl in a cream sweater, splattered with what looked like red paint, calmly stood over two bloody figures in the midst of the chaos. A gun in each hand, she gazed steadily in their direction. When they cautiously approached, they noticed another body behind her. The reason for her protective stance clicked in their minds. The licking flames danced vibrantly in her eyes. They couldn't help but admire the strange beauty of that moment.

After being safely removed from the burning building, some checked over the children while others dealt with the two men, and the rest tamed the fire. A crowd of spectators gathered to watch the drama eagerly from behind the established perimeter. Waiting on the incoming paramedics, one of the officers who'd arrived began the initial questioning to clear up various doubts. As the one in better health, Kyrha entertained most of his inquiries. In response to one of his questions, she replied, "They gave me a choice: my brother's life or mine." Glancing impassively at the bodies laying prostrate on the curb, she concluded, "I chose theirs."

Her apathetic tone and indifferent eyes brought about an uncomfortable pause.

Her body lurched downward when Roman used a burst of strength to pull at her sweater's sleeve, whispering fiercely in her ear. He verbally reminded her of how he had her follow his childlike guise when facing the police in the original event to lower their guard and better control the outcome. She smiled internally. That move was probably what later birthed her hobby of people-watching, leading to the high success rate in reproducing mimicked emotions.

Under the suspicious watch of the adults, she readjusted her expression to match the innocence of one her age as tears sparkled in her eyes. "Because those bad guys were mean and scary!!" She released the waterworks, announcing to the world the many grievances they'd endured as her voice wavered with bursting emotion. She ended by embracing her brother, frightful of how she had almost lost him because of the fever, violence and fire. She made no mention of how she'd created aforementioned fire or the two guns that were quickly removed from her possession.

Endless pity surged forth throughout the crowd. Their hearts went out to the young siblings, moved by such an incredible ordeal.

The authorities on the scene looked at each other, wondering if they had hallucinated the cold wolf in the child before her sudden shift to harmless bunny.

~ 𝟙𝟘 ~ 𝕁 ~ ℚ ~ 𝕂 ~ 𝔸 ~ 𝟙𝟘 ~ 𝕁 ~ ℚ ~ 𝕂 ~ 𝔸 ~

Endless ripples blurred the stability of their world like a rock breaking the surface of a pond. It would appear they had finished this hidden trial. "Good riddance," Kyrha whispered, uninterested in playing out any more of that particular memory. Their vision soon darkened, fading to black. When their sight cleared again, what they saw wasn't the familiar beauty and peace of the oasis, but what they could only assume was another illusory world. She heard Roman suck his teeth in slight disappointment. She seconded that sentiment. Guess it was too soon for them to head back just yet.