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The tension was palpable.
Legend could feel his heart beating, so loud; as sweat tried to slick the palms of his hand. He was right at the sweet spot of fear. Frightened enough to taste it, not so terrified to focus.
And he needed to focus.
His enemies surrounded him on all sides, penned him in. No matter where he locked, he saw nothing but hatred an maleficence.
Nothing for it. Nothing else to do.
Cards on the table, he can only wait for his turn to strike.
Wind moves first.
"UNO!" the sailor shouts, slapping a card down.
Fuck.