The door kicked open, and the room was flooded with the red lasers of tactical teams. Jax didn't get to play the game that night. He was already living it.
When the bar finally hit 100%, the screen didn't launch the game. Instead, the monitor bled into a deep, pulsing crimson. Text began to scroll—not game dialogue, but Jax’s own personal data. His bank account (empty), his medical records (failing), and his exact GPS coordinates.
"Kael?" Jax whispered, his heart hammering against his ribs.
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