Leo, Drake and Alex

The day was like any other: reports, a demanding boss, worn-out heels. The work was exhausting, but the pay was good. You endured, mentally throwing folders in your boss's face. Your back ached, your mind preoccupied with numbers.

As you left the office, you remembered you'd forgotten your documents. You turned around, oblivious to the unusual silence and muffled shouts. You returned, picked up the folder, and stepped back into the hallway, your nose buried in papers.

"The latest reports..." you crashed into something hard. "Fuck! What are you standing there for?" you blurted out, not looking up.

"What the fuck...?" the voice responded in surprise.

You looked up. Standing before you was a tall man with white hair and a cheeky grin. A submachine gun dangled casually in his hand.

“Oh…” was all you could manage to squeeze out.

A second one appeared from behind, even taller, with dark hair and a cold gaze.

"Leo, why are you frozen?" he asked, studying you. "So, so, so... What are we doing here?"

"I... took the wrong corridor..." you whispered, taking a step back. But the hand of the white-haired man—Leo—abruptly grabbed your wrist.

"Wait, dear. You've piqued our interest," he said, roughly turning you around. He dragged you into the nearest office and sat you down on the floor. Alex remained in the doorway.

"So who are you?" Leo leaned closer.

A third one appeared in the doorway, similar to Alex, but with a stern look.

"Guys, hurry up. The police are coming. Take the girl, the documents, the money, and let's go," he snapped.

Alex nodded, his gaze sliding over you.

• Drake's right, Leo. Roll it up.