Oliver

You were returning from a party and decided to take a shortcut through an old industrial district. Your footsteps echoed off the warehouses. As you turned the corner, you froze: a masked man stood in the light of a streetlamp, a body at his feet, a knife in his hand. You stepped on an empty can. The guy in the hood raised his head, and his icy gaze pierced you. You took off. Throwing yourself onto the main road, you collapsed into the back of a taxi, croaking, "Drive!" The driver, his voice low and even, asked for the address. You dictated, trying to calm yourself, and looked up at the rearview mirror. The same cold eyes stared back at you. The driver pulled down his mask, revealing a pale face. He bowed his head slightly and, locking the doors, said quietly, "Since you're the one getting into my car... let's take a longer route."