Page 8 of Insanium (Devil’s Playground)

I grabbed Raphael’s hand and pulled him down the aisle, my energy spiking with excitement.

“Catch you later,” I shouted cheerily to the others, not bothering to look back as we darted around the corner.

“Where are we off to?” Raphael asked.

I flashed him a grin as we zipped through the dim hallway. “I love how you just came along without a peep. You’re such a good boy,” I teased with a playful wink.

His eyebrows arched, and he laughed, a sound that made the shadows around us feel a little less somber. “That makes me sound like a puppy.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.” I squeezed his hand tighter and gave our intertwined fingers a playful swing. He didn’t seem to mind at all that I’d monopolized one of his arms. “I thought we should head to the arcade.”

“For the virtual thrills, right?”

“You caught on quick. Look at you, handsome and brainy.”

He chuckled, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

As we passed the adorable little girl with the doll again, I couldn’t help but give her a cheeky wave. “She’s the kind of mischievous kid I’d probably have.”

“You want kids?” he asked, an eyebrow raised in surprise.

“Of course. At least six, I think. Gotta keep life interesting.”

“Six? That’s no small number.”

“But I’ll have a few great daddies to help me raise them. They’ll follow after all of us in no time.”

“A few?” He seemed both amused and a bit perplexed.

“Oh, you didn’t know? I’m gonna have myself a harem.”

His laughter echoed around us. “A harem, huh? That’s one way to ensure variety.”

“Well, the kids will come later, obviously. I’ve got to help my brothers out with some world domination or something, and then I’ll need time to enjoy being the center of attention with my guys.”

“Sounds like a full schedule. But as for being the center of attention? Pretty sure you already have that down. I don’t think I’ve stopped looking your way since you walked into the room. And I know I’m not the only one.”

“Oh? Flattery will get you everywhere.”

The neon-lit arcade came into view and brought a wave of nostalgia, making me think of the carefree days spent at Freddy’s with my brothers when we were younger.

Now, the games we played would consist of murder and mayhem.

Raphael and I, still linked by our hands, meandered through the vibrant maze of machines until he broke our rhythm with a sudden declaration.

“Claw machine.”

I followed his pointing finger, my eyes catching on the countdown timer ticking away. I tugged him toward the machine. “You play. I’ll watch your back.”

“Isn’t that backward?”

I shook my head. “You played football, right? Those big ol’ hands are perfect for this.”

“What does that—?”

“It means you’re catching our key today. No time to waste, pretty boy.”

He sighed but obediently stepped up to the challenge, his focus narrowing as he took control of the claw. Meanwhile, I stole a few seconds to soak in the arcade’s familiar, joyful chaos, noting the presence of classics like Hungry Hippos and Skee-Ball.

I made a mental note to drag the twins out for an old-school game night when this was over.

All thoughts of tickets and prizes fell away when I spotted a clown emerging from a shadowy alcove out of the corner of my eye, a spiked bat in tow.

Unwilling to alarm Raphael, I started to sway to an internal beat, casually dropping into a dance, “Jolene” hummed under my breath, the rhythm helping to mask my movements.

As I dipped low, my hand slipped into my boot, fingers wrapping securely around the handle of my knife.

With a casual grace, I readied myself for whatever came next, my eyes darting discreetly toward the approaching danger.

“Are—are you twerking right now?” Raphael asked incredulously.

“What? No. This is hardly the time to be doing that.”

“ … I can see your reflection in the glass.”

I chuckled, continuing to mask my movements as I adjusted the grip on my knife. “We’re buddies, right, Rafe?” I asked nonchalantly.

“Of course,” he replied, though his tone carried a hint of uncertainty.

“Do you know that we have someone neither of us likes here right now?” I continued, trying to gauge his awareness of our unwelcome spectator.

“Yes,” he said slowly, clearly unsure where I was going with this.

I huffed softly, realizing from his reaction that although he might see my reflection, he hadn’t noticed the clown.

Raphael cursed softly under his breath, his focus intensifying on the claw machine’s controls.

I held my tongue, knowing better than to distract him as the timer ticked down second by second.

With only three minutes remaining, my heart raced with a mix of anticipation and adrenaline.

“Got it!” he exclaimed a moment later.

I turned and watched him remove a devil plushie from the drop box.

As he bent to snag the prize, the claw machine erupted into a symphony of victorious buzzes and flashing lights, his face beaming with the rush of success.

The moment of triumph lasted all of a few seconds.

The clown, which had paused momentarily, suddenly lunged forward, its bat raised high in the air.

I reacted instinctively, with quick reflexes honed from years of training and being put into unpredictable situations by my family.

I grabbed Raphael by the back of his shirt, pulling him out of danger just as the bat collided with the glass of the claw machine. Shattered fragments flew around us like stars in a dangerously close galaxy, glittering in the air.

“Holy shit, was he there the whole time?”

“Sure was. I’m going to need you to work on your sense of awareness.

” I stepped between him and the clown, pulling out my knife with a flourish.

“Protect that plushie,” I instructed him.

Channeling my inner sailor scout, and with a practiced flick of my wrist, my knife sailed through the air.

It found its target with lethal precision, embedding itself directly in the clown’s eye.

it was almost dead center—which was a solid nine outta ten if I did say so myself.

I moved forward to capitalize on the clown’s moment of weakness.

As I closed in, the clown clutched at its face, issuing a bizarre, muffled whimper of pain.

It was an odd talent, crying in pain yet maintaining such silence.

I watched in fascination, then cupped the back of his head and yanked my knife free from his eye socket.

The blade came away slick with a magnificent cocktail of face paint and blood—a grotesquely beautiful sight.

Raphael hurried to my side, shoving the plush devil into my arms. “Run back to the theater,” he said, his tone edged with urgency and something fiercely protective that made my heart skip.

“And leave my partner to fend for themself? Not a chance.”

He muttered something about stubborn women under his breath and then picked up the spiked bat the clown had dropped.

The resolve in his posture was something to behold, and oh, how his muscles flexed as he raised the bat high.

With a fierce grunt, he brought it down on the clown’s skull.

The sickening crunch was strangely satisfying, like stepping on crisp leaves but far more visceral.

The bat got stuck, and with another grunt that made me think of other things, mainly how he would sound with me on top of him, he removed it.

A few chunky bits clung to the spikes that had been embedded in the clown’s head, reminding me of a thick salsa.

“We have to go,” he urged.

I quickly sheathed my knife, gripping the plush devil tightly. As we sprinted through the dimly lit hallway, a clown decided to make an ill-timed appearance from a dark corner.

Raphael didn’t hesitate. He charged ahead, swinging the bat with deadly accuracy and impaling the clown’s torso.

It collapsed, writhing in pain as we dashed past. We burst into the theater, my heart pounding and my breaths coming fast. Adrenaline coursed through my veins, fueling me with a thrilling rush of energy as I dropped back into my seat.

“Welcome back,” Aisha greeted us, her eyes twinkling with a mixture of amusement and admiration.

“Have fun?” Hael added, his smirk suggesting he already knew the answer.

“Fun’s my middle name, baby,” I shot back, glancing triumphantly at the timer. “We beat the clock, Rafe!” I exclaimed, pointing at the screen, which proudly displayed a mere 00:03 remaining.

“With three seconds to spare,” Kristy chimed in, her voice thick with disdain.

“Three seconds and a key,” I retorted, holding up the plush devil like it was a trophy. “What did you manage to snag during your attempt, Kunty?”

“What did you call me?” she snapped, face twisting into a scowl.

“Your name, obviously.” I flicked a glance toward Rafe, tossing him a cheeky grin.

“And unlike your partner, mine didn’t end up with a smashed face. A win is a win, and right now, we’re two for one.”

Rafe met my gaze, his smile supportive and loaded with unspoken agreement.

I felt a flutter in my chest at his silent backing, giving me the courtesy of letting me fight my own battles.

Not that it was hard when my opponent had the presence of a wet rag.

Kristy, meanwhile, just continued to scowl and turned away, probably wishing she could disappear into her seat.

“You did good, guys,” Maya chimed in from a few seats over, her tone genuine.

“Thank you, gorgeous. Glad someone appreciates our efforts,” I replied, leaning back in my seat.

“Was that a Sailor Moon move with the knife?”

I blinked and turned in my seat to find the source, the realization dawning that our ordeal had likely been broadcast for all to see.

“You’re a fan, too?” I believed his name was Jerome.

He looked slightly sheepish. “Yeah, grew up with it.”

“Don’t hide it. I’m all about meeting fellow scouts,” I beamed, my voice full of genuine cheer.

From behind me, a muffled voice grumbled, “She’s absolutely insane.”

I tossed a casual shrug over my shoulder, unfazed. “Insane isn’t so bad. It’s helped me live this long, after all.”

The screen flickered again and the same voice from before began to speak, rolling out a new layer of the riddle.