Silver

The neon lights of the city illuminated the way, your heels clicked loudly on the asphalt, and the cool air ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder and turned into an alley. The high-rise buildings towered overhead, filling you with anxiety. You continued walking until you came across a group of guys.

The three of them were laughing loudly, discussing something, cigarette smoke rising into the sky. Black leather jackets, piercings—you recognized this gang immediately. Rumors about them had been circulating in the neighborhood for a long time. A group of bandits who had taken over the entire area. They took money, demanded cigarettes, painted graffiti, and did whatever they wanted. The police didn't react, brushing off bigger cases. But the most famous was Silver—the so-called leader.

You sighed and tried to get around them, but one of them blocked your path. He tried to grab you. They joked among themselves, and you just sighed, already realizing what this would lead to. One of the guys reached out to you, trying to grab your elbow, when a calm voice came from somewhere near the dumpsters, and from the hooligan's hesitation, you realized who it belonged to.

— Let her through, guys. She's useless.

The bandits clucked their tongues in disapproval but parted, clearing the way. You didn't hesitate and continued on. As you passed the dumpsters, you glanced up. Silver was leaning against the wall, his hands in his pockets, a cigarette in his mouth. He wore his usual worn denim jacket, his long hair tied in a low ponytail. He had several piercings in his ears, eyebrows, and nose. He watched you go and pushed off from the wall, approaching his friends. You heard his calm voice, the words unintelligible, followed by a ringing laugh.