What are the chances that I, with only ten cartridges and fast thinking ability, have in escaping from a squad of four armed and trained soldiers? Obtaining an ability that accelerates thoughts isn't enough for me arrogantly believe myself above others, or god forbids bullets. Besides, there is no proof that I'm the only one with superpowers, as far as I'm concerned all these people here may have superpowers. The only reason I didn't consider the possibility when I launched the hostage plan was due to a lack of data.

So, the plan 'hostage soldier' purpose isn't for me to flee. The plan in itself isn't the difficult part, it is the negotiation part and also where the aim of the plan lies. And there will be at least two outcomes from the negotiations.

One of them is the insurance while the other is my death.

"Do you even know what are you doing fucker!"

I pressed the knife even more into his throat until red blood comes out. Not enough to kill him but enough to prove that, yes I know what I am doing. Getting underestimated is in most cases a good thing, holding a hostage isn't in most cases, however.

"Who are you?" I asked my voice calm despite my rapid breathing caused by the taxing movement I just did, as I looked at the men opposite from me and my human shield.

Three men in a line, all three wearing almost the same outfit as my human shield, military uniform, and gear. A buff man in his mid-thirties with a rock-hard bald head stands to the left holding an automatic rifle. To the right a lean man with a black hat, black hair, smiling face, his right hand on the gun stored in his holster. The man in the middle, which I rightfully assumed to be the leader, is broad shoulder man in his late thirties, with blonde hair, both hands holding an automatic rifle pointed to the ground.

"I suggest that you let him go, kid." The man in the middle said, his index tapping the trigger guard.

"That doesn't answer my question."

"We are soldiers from the Saint North. Now, release him." His finger moved from the trigger guard to the trigger as he said the last part.

"What are you doing here?" I pushed the knife, even more, to reciprocate in kind.

"We aren't your enemy kid." The blonde man put both hands up his serious face turned into a smiling one as he said that. That made me even more cautious. Something isn't right, their expressions, gestures, and even their body language are all screaming that they get things under control.

Irritation and panic digits are gradually increasing in value.

What is giving them confidence? Or is it arrogance? Do they doubt that I won't slaughter him? I want to start processing; it may not result in answers, but it can provide me with more clues than I currently have.

"He talk as much as Zane." The buff man said as he lowered his rifle a bit.

"I don't talk that much." The hat guy responded, implying that he was Zane.

Again.

They are too casual.

I directed my attention to the captive as I noticed his suspicious stirs. I moved my right hand from the shoulder of the hostage to the rifle he was secretly trying to reach. I wanted to apply more force on the knife but any more can be critical to him. I took hold of the automatic rifle before he could then direct it at the trio. Which turned out to be slightly taxing for me, the automatic rifle being heavier than I anticipated.

"Fucking bastard I swear I'll break your nose!"

I didn't heed the swearing human shield, my eyes are more on the lackluster reaction of the trio after pointing a rifle at them. The middle one still has his hands up, a smile is still on the hat guy, while the guff guy is still the guff guy.

Not so positive. Things aren't advancing while my time in the hyper mode is shrinking by the second.

It was once I decided to use some threatening words that I noticed it.

The hands, man in the middle still holding his hands up however he is moving his fingers in...

Odd hand gesture.

He is communicating with someone. A fifth member? Where? I need to find their--

Too late.

Can you hear the gunshot before its kills you?

No. you can't.

Can you see a bullet before it drills itself into your skull?

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Maybe.

At least I can, but I am a special case.

A bullet spun through the air as it made its way from the trees behind the trio to the person in front of them.

Me.

The fear parameters are spiking.

I don't doubt what I should be feeling right now, other than fear, maybe helplessness.

I can see the bullet but what good does that do to me?

I got out of the extensive processing I entered once I noticed the bullet. Just a waste of resources anyway.

The bullet will continue its trajectory no matter what I think. And no matter what I want to do.

The bullet visibly sped up as I re-entered the Stale State and exited the extensive processing.

My body speed can't compare to a bullet capable of breaking the sound barrier.

The bullet flew distorting the space around it.

No matter how much I think, my thought won't affect the bullet and...

Fortunately, It doesn't have to.

It whistled and whizzed as it passed over my left cheek, before continuing its road into the forest. Only then did I hear the gunshot.

The bullet trajectory isn't my head.

If my head, however, was a millimeter to the left I would be dead. If my head hadn't turned left my ears would be gone instead of the slash in my left cheek.

It is a warning.

...and the insurance I was waiting for.

"She won't miss the next shot." Said the blonde man.

That is true.

The chances of it not being intentional are below twenty percent. The trajectory of the bullet was so close to my face that I won't have believed it to be a warning if not for their reaction. And to succeed in a shot like that, you either have to be crazily lucky or crazily skillful.

Anyway the plan 'Hostage Soldier' has come to fruition with relatively positive results. Still, the aftermath of the plan may not be pretty, but having two times the chance to take a shot at me yet chose not to is enough, for now, It is also all I can get. Many possibilities appeared as to why not kill me, some positive, some negative, hence I don't have a lead.

Therefore, my information and abilities are lacking. Making any more hostile decision can be counterproductive.

I removed the knife from the no-more shield as I deactivated my ability at the same time. Immediately two crashes happened; one is the emotional flood, which isn't as intense as the last time but is enough to make me dizzy. The other crash is more physical. The freed hostage turned around with full force, I felt a hit to my calf before the world became even dizzier then with a thud and I meet the cold ground once more.

I didn't have that much time at recollecting myself before something hard impacted my face, my vision turned white for a moment, then another impact followed by a cracking sound.

"I fucking told you bastard, didn't I? I will fucking break your nose."

I heard the voice yet I don't understand it. The world is dancing, I don't know where I am. I have a headache, which has become now my roommate, but other than that, everything is so distant.

"Are you alright friend? Officer Kelliv can be petty at times, don't mind him."

It took me a moment to regain my senses. The man with the black hat is crouched near me, while the others making a half-circle around me.

"You really have balls kid, consider yourself lucky you meet the tolerant bunch."

The blond man, who I assumed to be the one in charge said, while the guy I took hostage snorted, in his hands my rifle and knife. My mind however too shocked to register anymore as a new sense of dread gnawed at me.

What the fuck did I just do?

I pointed my weapon against a man and threatened him. Not just any man, but an officer in the army. Then taking the said officer as a hostage to threaten his comrades. And the terrifying part is I wasn't even bluffing, I really would've slit his throat had they made any wrong move.

This is bad... really bad.

I know disassociating from my emotions will lead to some repercussions, but I didn't expect it to be this bad and this soon. It's almost as if it wasn't me anymore, making such dangerous decisions only based on what I know, see or hear. One of the repercussions is my death, and the dreadful part is 'I' was fine with that. I even made a contingency plan of killing as much as I could before they kill me.

Killing then dying.

This isn't a fucking game.

"Eric's punch must have caused a concussion."

"The bastard called for it."

I need to think more, the emotional suppression of the ability has more repercussions than I envisioned. However, now isn't the time nor is it the priority.

"Hey there friend, how many fingers do you see."

I pushed to stand up, and I stumbled a bit but the man with the hat to my side helped me steady myself.

"Three."

"And now."

"Still three."

"Wrong! it's thirty, unfortunately, it seems you got some brain damage."

Is that a joke? Or an insult? But before I come to a conclusion, the hat guy closed his hand to my face and--

Crack.

"Heeeelt!... what the fuuck!"

"Right? Much better. You should never let a broken nose wait, trust me."

The bastard.

"Should we start moving already." Said the shiel-- no he is just a soldier now.

"What's your name kid?"

"Vic, Victor Rose."

I answered without any delay. Any hesitation here would've drawn more distrust. I already thought of a few procedures when I was in hyper-focused mode. The name to use was selected purely on logical thinking. The pocket watch plays a prominent role in choosing it. Which can be used as a proof of identity item. Now, however, that I have access to my emotions I couldn't agree more. I already liked the watch, and the message engraved on it perfectly represents my current struggle. I am also reluctant to use the name of my previous life or body.

Of course, giving a name this body isn't registered with is not without repercussions. In fact, ending up in jail is the most likely outcome, however, logically speaking jail is better than death.

I also thought of faking amnesia but the chances of it fooling a group of already skeptical professional soldiers, are extremely low. The chances would've been higher while using my ability, with which I can control all of my reactions and deeds, and every word was well thought out before being spoken. Unfortunately, I can't maintain it active indefinitely.

Therefore, the immediate goal is information. The current plan is to talk less and listen more. And try to not lie more than necessary. For one I am not confident in my lying skills. And two, lies don't last long.

"So what are you doing here Victor?"

"Hunting." I answered while looking at the rifle held by my ex-hostage. Using it as a stick against the muddy ground as he wipes the blood on his neck with a handkerchief.

"When was the last time you've been at the village."

I inclined my head to the side and raised an eyebrow. No matter what my answer would be, it can only be a lie, hence why it is better to not say anything, especially since I don't know the incentive behind the questions.

After some uncomfortable silence, the blond man said.

"I'm sorry kid, you are the only survivor we've found."