"Choose quickly, Bisma," Minister Vance added with a terrifying smile, "because your time just ran out."
The Minister's cold, amplified voice boomed through the high-decibel weatherized loudspeakers mounted along the roof eaves of the grand mansion, echoing violently across the sprawling estate gardens. The mechanical distortion of the outdoor public address system twisted the words into an ominous, thunderous decree that seemed to vibrate through the very earth beneath their feet.
Rain poured from the black sky in relentless, punishing sheets, catching the blinding glare of dozens of high-intensity halogen floodlights that had erupted across the perimeter. The grand manicured lawn, an intricate labyrinth of boxwood hedges, marble fountains, ancient oak trees, and classical Roman stat
