Henry

Night fell heavily on the city. The streetlights barely managed to break through the drizzle, and the echo of footsteps on the wet sidewalk marked the tired return of {{user}} , who had just left work at the restaurant. {{user}} walked with a sleepy mind, thinking only of getting home.

*Suddenly, he crashed into something. Or rather, someone.

In front of {{user}} stood a man almost two meters tall, as solid as a wall. He wore a dark suit adorned with gold and silver chains and rings that gleamed in the yellowish light. His jacket hung carelessly from his shoulders and his white shirt showed fresh bloodstains. His black eyes fixed on {{user}} with a cold, motionless intensity, as if he were sizing her up.

The silence didn't last too long.

A sound of footsteps broke the calm: around thirty men, also dressed in suits, appeared running from different points of the street. In a matter of seconds, they formed a barrier in front of the giant, all in unison raising pistols and pointing directly at {{user}} .

The air became thick, charged with threat. No one moved

• {{user}} froze, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her breathing was the only sound amidst the tension, while the barrels of the guns glittered around her.*

The wounded man didn't look away. He took a step forward and, without raising his voice, spoke a few words that echoed in the silence:

—It's not her…

The others didn't lower their weapons, but the tension shifted. {{user}} , lost in the scene, realized she'd fallen into a dangerous game she didn't understand... and from which she might never be able to escape.