The attendants each pointed an automatic rifle at Mark, while he held his luger at the boss. His entire body was shivering in trepidation, for his life was now in the hands of a damned lunatic.
With a glance, Mark could tell that the two attendants had a frigid air, with personalities cold enough to kick a dog if it were in their path. Devotion lined their eyes, every action they took seemed to be from an order, and nothing more. Perhaps if the boss told them to stop breathing, they would do so until suffocation.
'The Spheks hold up to their name. Truly the vicious evil of this city.'
He felt like a lynx before a pack of wolves, the predatory pack watching for any weaknesses. The only two sources of relief were the gun he held, and the wind blowing at him from the exit of the alley- just a meter away.
On the other end, the crowd of vagrants beheld the scene with varying emotions spanning from amusement and mockery to fright and shock.
Mark had expected the gang to be armed, but not to this extent. Did they steal or extort those?
Well, whatever means they used to grab ahold of such power, it changed the playing field entirely. Even the Hounds might not have such equipment on their hands.
Maybe joining them would be a good idea. With all that might at hand, along with the excellent leadership, it would likely serve as a safe place to hang on.
Then again, who knew what would happen once the overall situation deteriorated further? Even if the leader proclaims that he will be able to maintain order, Mark isn't about to believe him.
He internally sighed.
Sadly, it didn't seem like his opinion would matter much.
With the solemnity of obsidian, the red-eyed man laid his final decree.
"Submit."
An ardent pressure weighed down on Mark.
Everything in his body and mind told him to obey.
Logic and sense seemed to bend to the leader.
The frigid gun he held lost all meaning to the threat before him.
He opened his mouth, about to accept, but froze amidst the motion.
Mark wanted to join. He wanted to join so badly.
And yet, he hesitated.
Something felt wrong, terribly so.
It was a burning sensation of disgust that lay deep within his body, burning him with clarity amidst his torrent of emotion.
Produced from it was one moment of reluctance.
That one, precious moment, made all the difference.
"Kill him."
Everything after flashed before Mark's pale-black eyes.
In the heat of the moment, he drew his attention away from the boss and instead focused on the two attendants. Somehow, he had to distract them from carrying out their duties.
His mind flashed at an incomprehensible pace.
Throughout the confrontation, he felt weird about the two beside the leader and had a suspicion that this oddity could be exploited in some way.
Instinct took over and rode on his logic to produce an instantaneous response.
Stretching out his mind, he shocked them with a burst of mixed emotions, ranging from flaring anger and crippling sorrow to the highest peaks of joy and passion.
The attendants froze for a second as if put into a trance... or broken out of one.
Mark didn't care.
He quickly fired four times, two shots flew toward each attendant.
Whether they hit or missed would remain unknown as Mark was fully turned around and running out of the alley.
Orders echoed through the alley, and footsteps began to rumble on the otherwise tranquil night.
The street lights had Mark in plain sight, he amusedly listened while the mob chasing him yelled phrases such as "Over there!" and "Don't let him escape!".
He then heard the familiar sound of a gun horridly spitting out bullets, and watched as the deadly metal pellets flew past him- some close, many far.
'Damn it all! I should have left that brunette to d-'
Right as he was about to turn the corner, a bullet struck him directly in the left shoulder. He agonizingly bit his lip to stifle a yelp and smoothly passed the corner before entering another alley.
Both of the attendants must have survived, as the leader wouldn't let just any of his gang members carry the carbine gun, nor would he leave himself undefended. This probably meant that one of the attendants stayed, while the other was actively pursuing.
Mark was thankful to be familiar with the current area he was in. He headed north while turning through all the alleys he could, trying to throw off the swarm of people chasing him.
It was a tiring task.
Throughout the many long minutes that ensued, he could hear running in the distance- which he then moved to avoid.
The moon watched his struggle indifferently while it climbed toward the apex of the sky. It entered the overarching barrier of smog and hid its light.
Then, Mark came out of an alley.
Running echoed into his ears from the trail he left behind, but in front of him, there was just an open boulevard where no cover was offered.
He was winded, tired, and his stamina was long exhausted.
In contrast, the scoundrels on his back seemed tireless, as if motivated by some indescribable force.
Everything looked bleak, the visage of death lingered in his eyes- or maybe the two organs were failing under his fatigue.
But he wasn't worried.
Watching the alley, he heard the foreboding footsteps of the vagrants. They were just about to come out into the open boulevard.
At that exact moment, the city went black.
Curfew had just arrived, and the world was pitched into darkness.
The pursuers entered the street while Mark turned his back.
"Shit! Find him, or else the boss will have our necks!"
Indifferent to the scoundrel's desperate cries, the young man slowly, silently walked forward to his, heading to his sanctuary where the brunette should be waiting.
People ran past him, while some went in the other direction. Without any guide, the hunters were reduced to lambs.
Mark smiled, thankful for the shroud of black.
He headed up north, as quietly as a mouse.
And then he arrived, met with shock and surprise.
His awaited receiver stood at the front of the house.
"Hey, the night is truly lovely tonight, isn't it, Jack?"