A/N: Hello everyone and welcome back to my novel!
Now, now, I am pretty sure there aren't many people that have been a fan of my novel yet. LOL
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The black SUV rumbled forward through the snow-covered streets, the low hum of the engine blending with the sound of icy wind lashing against the windows.
Inside, Yuuta and Vladimir sat in the backseat without their seatbelts on, their chessboard replaced with a deck of well worn playing cards. The warm air and light inside the vehicle was a stark contrast to the frozen tundra outside, the soft shuffle of the deck, the flick of a card, there was no rush at all....
Yuuta flicked a card onto the seat between them, his expression calm and unreadable, maintaining a poker face.
"Move, Vladimir."
Vladimir studied his hand carefully that had an ace, a queen, a king, a joker, and a nine spade, before chuckling, placing his own cards down.
Vladimir nodded quickly, his eyes darting back and forth as he studied his hand: an ace, a queen, a joker, a nine spade, and a king.
His hands trembled slightly as he laid down a pair of cards, hoping to make a mistake on purpose. He couldn't lose to Yuuta again, not after the last 344 games.
"It's just a game, right? Right?"
Vladimir chuckled nervously, trying to play it off, but his hands were shaking too much to hide it.
"Sir, I must admit, your poker face is terrifying." Vladimir stated, his voice dripping with hidden arrogance, as he expected to win a match against his unsuspecting boss.
Yuuta nodded slightly, holding the cigarette between his fingers but never lighting it. "It's just a game, Vladimir. However, even one game can change the life of an individual to the best or to the worst."
Yuuta became silent for a moment before slowly raising his eyes to Vladimir.
"Never gamble Vladimir, for there are three types of gamblers, I suppose. The first type is an ignorant and stupid man, for he knows not the value of money. The second is a filthy rich man, for he has the luxury to spend as much as he pleases without wasting much"
Yuuta held up two fingers as he stared at Vladimir who had put his thumb to his chin, deeply pondering the words of his boss before speaking up.
"And the third?" He inquired in profound curiosity.
Yuuta closed his eyes for a moment, before slowly opening them and showing Vladimir a third finger.
"The third is one where an individual such as you should never get mixed with; a crazy an individual."
He further went on explaining the deep meaning of his words.
"Because a crazy man will do anything to win; he has nothing to lose even if it costed him everything he has, I suppose" Yuuta said as he laid down his cards, which revealed a perfect royal flush.
"If you are force to gamble and have no choice" Yuuta continued as his words trailed off and his eyes widened staring into Vladimir's blue ocean eyes, darker than the depth of the Mariana trench as if he were conveying the depth of his words.
"Then hedge bet" He concluded.
The concept of a hedgebetting in general, when it is examined, taps into the deepest parts of human decision-making and risk management.
At its core, a hedgebet is created not just as a bet but as a psychological mechanism that eliminates the feeling of loss. And in that sense, it becomes a paradoxical, it is simply impossible to truly lose.
When a person places a regular bet, they engage in an emotional experience.
Whether it's the thrill of the gamble or the dread of potential loss, emotions drive the process of decision making.
The brain evaluates potential outcomes based on a combination of desire, fear, and probability.
Most of us, driven by cognitive biases, which technically tends to overweight the risk of loss, which makes losing feel like a catastrophic event.
A hedgebet, however, shifts this dynamic. It's not about a single wager but two interconnected bets with each one calculated to offset the other.
Psychologically, this alleviates the fear of loss because the individual knows that no matter the outcome, the hedging bet will make sure of a financial return or at least neutralizing the losses.
Now, now, how does this affect the mind?
The mind no longer experiences the emotional rush of pure risk. Instead, it is simply comforted by the certainty that, regardless of the result, the system is designed to prevent any true loss.
This approach feeds into cognitive dissonance, where a person experiences mental discomfort when faced with conflicting beliefs.
A gambler who bets recklessly might feel the tension between the desire to win and the fear of losing. A hedgebet resolves that tension by balancing the competing emotional forces, ensuring the person never feels as if they're at a total loss.
There's no conflict between the two bets because, by design, they counteract each other; they remove the vulnerabilities of each other.
Additionally, the concept of control plays a huge role.
In traditional gambling, the outcomes are left to chance, something outside the bettor's influence. This can create feelings of helplessness, which contribute to the anxiety surrounding the gamble. A hedgebet, on the other hand, is a controlled environment.
The bettor has structured the situation in such a way that their financial position will never deteriorate significantly, no matter how the events unfold.
This illusion of control reduces the individual's sense of anxiety which allows the individual to approach the situation with an almost detached sense of calm.
Vladimir swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn't sure which category he belonged to, but judging by the way his hands wouldn't stop shaking, he was starting to feel like all three.
Vladimir's brain was unable to process what he was seeing for a moment before his eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets
Vladimir froze, staring at the cards as his mind scrambled to catch up.
"W-Wait, how... how did you—?"
'He was expected to have 8s and 5s of the heart and the spade! I even took that one course how to cheat in poker 101 by El Patron! I want my money back!'
Vladimir's eyes darted to his own cards. He'd tried to lose, tried to play poorly, but somehow, Yuuta always seemed to know what he had. Was it possible the man was doing it on purpose? Was he somehow reading his mind? Was there some sort of divine intervention involved? Vladimir's thoughts spiraled.
"I-I... no, hahaha.., yes, I was going easy on you, of course!" Vladimir stammered, laughing awkwardly and putting down a card that made no sense at all.
Yuuta's expression didn't change. His fingers drummed lightly on the seat beside him, irritation building in the silence.
His mind was spinning. He couldn't think. His body wasn't cooperating. The simplest task, playing a card game, had become an insurmountable challenge under Yuuta's watchful gaze. What was wrong with him?
Yuuta let out a sigh, placing his cigarette down, finally looking at Vladimir with something bordering on disappointment.
"Just play the game, Vladimir. And take it seriously."
Vladimir could feel the tension in the air now, thick and suffocating. He had no idea how to escape the suffocating pressure, and each card he picked up felt like a weight dragging him further down.
The SUV cut through the chilly night. Outside, the grand, icy city of St. Petersburg stretched before them. Snow blanketed the rooftops of the intricate, towering buildings adorned with golden domes and baroque facades.
The streetlights reflected off the frozen canals, creating an ethereal glow in the misty air. The Neva River lay frozen solid, stretching into the horizon, interrupted only by the skeletal remains of docks and frozen ships trapped within the ice.
The streets, though beautiful, carried an air of hostility, as if the city itself knew of the darkness lurking in its underbelly. Pedestrians, wrapped in thick coats, hurried along the sidewalks, their breaths visible in the frigid air. Russia in winter was both a masterpiece and a death sentence for the unprepared.
As the car continued moving on to the direction of the airport, the SUV slowly approached a security checkpoint near a bridge leading towards the airport, which elicited in turn the driver to slow down.
The car's speed decreased from 60 km/h to 45… 37… 23… 11, until it finally came to a complete stop as the driver pressed the brakes to their limit. He was an experienced driver for over 30+ years, and opposite to those that felt shame from their job as taxi drivers, he felt immense pride in himself in perfecting his job flawlessly.
As they approached what seemed like a checkpoint, judging by the soldiers that were stationed holding their rifles and other military based jeeps with m2 machine guns stationed atop of them and several vehicles, with a few grey - dark greenish tents pitched here and there, a group of men in military uniforms and thick fur coats waved them down. Their faces were obscured by thick scarves, their gloved hands gripping their rifles tightly.
Vladimir, muscles stiffened, as he sensed something amiss from the unexpected company. He quickly changed his attitude to that of a seasoned soldier, as henarrowed his eyes in suspicion and became tense.
"Sir, something's off." He warned, his voice laced with undisguised disdain. His eyes flicked toward Yuuta, awaiting his reaction.
Yuuta didn't reply, adjusting the cuff of his jacket as the driver rolled down the window of the SUV, questioningly.
"How may I help you sir?" The driver inquired, as he was quite curious about the men that tried to stop them. It seemed they had a death wish their parents had left them before passing on to the underworld! Did they not realize they were stepping a territory filled with landmines?
…...Is what the driver was probably thinking at that moment, as he subconsciously shivered at the cold air that had invaded the now heated vehicle.
One of the men approached, as he appeared different from the rest, as he did not have a scarf covering his face which clearly showed it.
The middle aged man seemed to be in his late 40's, with a deep scar running from his ear to his eye that was covered by a black cloth of an eyepatch, to his left cheek that seemed to be have been cut open by a zigzagged knife, the man stood at the astounding height of 8 feet, as if he was an Alaskan Polar bear, which intimidated the driver shitless, especially with a Remington 870 in his hands.
He wore a few badges on his chest, which highlighted his achievements of being the captain of the security checkpoint. Hearing the man speak in English, the man turned his head to his comrades before speaking in Russian, as his fellow comrades shook their head in denial. The man squinted his eyes towards them for a moment as the averted their eyes from him, before he shook his head in irritation.
With his rifle slung across his chest, the man spoke his Russian. "Ты не говоришь по-русски?" (Do you not speak Russian?)
The burly man became suspicious at the odd visitors that stayed in Russia, came upon a security checkpoint, didn't have a translator, and dint know how to speak Russian.
The driver, who had started sweating profusely, looked at the man with an awkward smile on his face.
"S-sorry, I only speak english" He chuckled nervously as he started seating buckets, fidgeting. It was the first time he had found himself in a pickle since he started his career. Although he had many driving services in other countries, 1. He spoke to normal citizens and 2. He mainly depended on communicating with gestures, as learning every single language was as tiresome as it could get.
The man frowned, as he recalled a few words of English he had learned from one of the prisoners he had held captive a few years ago, trying to form a sentence in his head.
The burly man pointed to himself as he spoke in a harsh-like, deep, hoarse voice, giving the influence that he was a heavy drinker and smoker.
"Me. Nikola Zakhzburgh." The man said as he analyzed the driver that nodded his head slowly.
He spoke once more, which made the driver freeze on the spot.
"Papar, show" (A/N: He's asking for the ownership proof lmao )
He demanded, as he held the shotgun with one arm, with his other hand leaning on the window of the driver.
The driver who for the first time was asked for his vehicle proof and insurance in years, and by a soldier at that, fell into a panic as he nervously with trembling hands opening the small cabinet of the seat besides him. It seemed today was filled with 'firsts' for him. Unfortunately, he did not know it would also be his 'lasts'.
He tightly gripped what was in his hand as if his life depended on it, and handed over a thick, leather-bound document with forged credentials. The soldier barely looked at it before nodding to his men who all gripped their weapons as they advanced forward.
"Step out, car. All of you." The man demanded in a booming voice, with his comrades aiming at the vehicles and looking through their scopes.
Yuuta's eyes squinted slightly for a moment, as the atmosphere thickened with tension. However, before anyone could react, a sharp and loud bang echoed through the air. The driver's head popped like a watermelon from the 410 bore shells, blood and brainmatter sprayed across the windshield alike.