Nyla watched Nikola pass her with ease with a lip-curling sneer on her own face, the NPC pushing past her with the speed of several players packed into one highly effective, cheaty little package.

There was no way she could beat her in a race. That much was obvious now. When it came time to end her, she would have to beat her in a test of strength - or perhaps just checking one's own skill screen.

She sprinted behind her own set of curtains seconds after Nikola zoomed out of sight, and was equally shocked when the guillotine-like sheet of metal sealed them both in.

Nyla cursed under her breath to avoid roaring in anger. Of course the previous room had just been a means to funnel the player into a vulnerable position; hiding the tunnel's contents behind opaque fabric should have been her first clue. She didn't take kindly to being bested even in tiny, microscopic ways. There was a time in her life when being unsuspectingly trapped like this would have meant being killed on the spot, and it wasn't so far behind her. She was trapped meat, waiting for the slaughter.

Luckily, this time she was among the hunters. And while she wouldn't be returning to the World of Wills if she was killed, she wouldn't be dying, either.

Nyla turned so her back was to the metallic sheet, bracing her back against it. The room was dimly lit by an obtusely blurry screen. She could just barely make out the figure depicted; it was Nikola, scrambling around in her own room.

Some text was encircling the screen, blinking and blindingly white.

'YOUR PARTNER CAN'T PROCEED UNTIL YOU INSTRUCT THEM. YOU HAVE A CHOICE; TO HELP OR TO HARM.'

How dramatic. Nyla always had the choice of whether to help or harm those around her, and all too often she chose to help. Not that she was given any credit for her self-control. No, everyone instead chose to focus on all the times she harmed.

Now that she had a few seconds of privacy, she swung up her red screen to check on her messages. The other Lavish in the VIP area would be wondering why she hadn't just run the Rogue through by now, especially given what she'd said.

A grin twitched against the edges of her lips as she remembered the show she'd put on before leaving the highly coveted, highly exclusive viewing room. Ahh, the drama. Nyla enjoyed giving the other Lavish something to chew on every time she left a room, but more than that she savoured living in ways she couldn't before she'd been forced to inherit her family's Credits. She remembered back when she was a meek little duckling, trapped in a cage of emotions, too anxious to make a move because every move felt like the wrong one.

Now, she rarely had to worry about that. Enough power and influence had a way of colouring her every move in a positive light, regardless of whether it turned out to be 'correct'.

She felt the dull warmth of the screen's light as she clicked on her [Messages] button. A lovely little collection was waiting for her, making her feel appropriately popular. She didn't do the things she did just to be ignored.

There was a smattering of messages from most everybody who'd been in the room with her, all balking at various aspects of her playstyle or how very hot she looked in her airbrushed, in-game skin. Later on in their messages, however, she saw a trend of tense disappointment from her peers at having saved the freckled little fiend. A few were hopeful she had 'finally come around' to their side of the 'argument' on whether she deserved to live or not.

Nyla sifted through them, searching for her True Peer's take on things. He was the only one she saw as her equal, or perhaps even her superior. Like her, he had taken the path of brutality to earn his Credits, but he had taken it willingly. The combination of his frigid yet level-headed exterior and his untamed, bloodthirsty interior made him wildly attractive to her.

Ahhh, there it was. She tapped excitedly at TheFowlerOne's Messages.

TheFowlerOne: You know, allowing the NPC to die to those barbarians would have achieved your goal of ending her less stylishly, but it still would have sufficed.

TheFowlerOne: She does not need to die by your blade for her to be neutralized.

She tousled her hair between her fingers and checked on the screen across the room. It was flashing with various controls now too, adding new layers of light to the space. She didn't have long to just chat, no matter how she longed to.

Nyla Freefire: Do you not remember that we're dealing with an AI here? Killing the body will only slow it down for so long. What you need to do to truly hinder it is hit it with psychological damage while it's still blooming. I can only do that when I start to have her trust.

Nyla Freefire: You would do well to stop underestimating me, if you want to keep your Credits. ;) I would have thought you would be the one to understand my methods. All of this goody-goody closeness is in the service of the final plan.

Nyla Freefire: Keep this to yourself tho

Nyla Freefire: I want to see the others seethe :)

With the closest thing she had to a friend in the viewing room informed of her deviousness, she dismissed the screen.

She strode over to the grainy display finally, and noted that she could see the details of Nikola's enclosure far better than hers. There was a short tunnel to her left and also to her right, but both were sealed off. She had the privilege of seeing that one of those tunnels was filled with gnashing, moving spikes, while the other allowed smooth passage. Her screen flickered to show the backs of the tunnels; both contained a key taped to the back wall.

It was just a question of whether she wanted the NPC to take damage obtaining the key, and bring her closer to death. Just how close did she want to inch her toward the end before this was all over, and how much more trust would saving her life twice buy her?

Maybe she was about to find out.

Nikola could see fuck all in the room tiny room, even when her eyes adjusted.

She turned backward and blindly reached for the exit that has previously been there, but it was closed off with a flat, featureless metal sheet that was cold to the touch.

It occurred to The Butcher that she was in a very vulnerable position, all of a sudden. Panic sizzled upward from her stomach as she realized there were no handles anywhere to open the doors with.

She carefully pawed at the walls too, finding two other circles of metal embedded in the walls on opposite ends of the room. Both were sealed such that she couldn't fit even her slender fingers beneath them.

From somewhere up above, a female voice crackled into existence. Nyla's voice.

"Go to the wall to your right."