*Brr, Brr,* flashes of light across a dimly lit room. As if replicating thunder and lightning, the table vibrated, '-who is it at this hour,' focused on her screen, Cake reluctantly reached for her phone. Lollipop in mouth, the sender read, Shadow. Dumbfounded, the candy fell to the floor, "-it's him," without a second left to spare, reaching for a trench coat – the door barged open.
"Lady Cake, is something the matter?" at intervals stood guards dressed in black. Each wore glasses with pistols and assault rifles.
