"This is the end of the line, Kai. You've lost." Balkov looked smugly down at the boy. A few meters away the two could hear sobs and pleadings. Elated, Balkov's smirk widened, undaunted by the stoic expression on his captive's face. Finally, he had reached what he'd so desperately wanted to do for so long. Kai remained immobile. Turning to his henchman, the director gave the signal. His man cocked the gun and aimed. Someone to the side screamed.
"Three."
"…No." The word was nearly unheard amongst the chaos that surrounded them. Balkov faltered, staring down at the bluenette, who had yet to raise his gaze from the slight downward tilt of his usual posture.
"What was that?" A sadistic smile slid onto the older Russian's features. The younger uncrossed his arms. "Begging for your life? It's too late now, Kai."
The phoenix wielder abruptly snapped his hard eyes to the man's, everything about him radiating defiance.
"Two," said the henchman, hand bracing his gun arm.
"You're wrong." Kai's voice was stronger now, able to be heard by the nearby teams. A hush fell, silence ringing in the air; an unknown tension filled the stadium with a buzz of energy. Glances were now riveted on the blader, instead of the scene. Kai smirked, standing up straighter, hands at his sides. This man had nothing on him.
"One." The finger neared the trigger.
Voice steady and clear, Kai spoke with a firm control that belied his position. "I've won." The words rang of finality and triumph. Balkov was livid, mouth parting in silent disbelief. The last sight Kai Hiwatari ever saw was the outraged widening of the eyes belonging to the man who'd orchestrated his murder.