'Mouse' didn't flinch. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the barrel of the pistol as he rose to his feet. His dark eyes locked onto the other man's, unblinking and steady.
For a moment, silence consumed the dimly lit bar. The air grew thick with tension as patrons began slipping out one by one, careful to avoid drawing attention.
"You've chosen the hard way, I see. Or maybe you're just tired of living, eh?"
Lip snarled as he pressed the muzzle harder against Mouse's head. Now fully visible in the faint light, his scarred face twisted into a feral scowl, the marks of countless brawls etched deeply into his skin.
Mouse, standing tall, was equally revealed. His ink-black hair framed a face of quiet defiance, his gaze was calm and unwavering despite the weapon inches from his skull.
"You're mistaken, Lip," Mouse said coolly. "The one without a choice here… is you."
Lip's face contorted with rage, his finger tightening on the trigger. But Mouse was faster. In one fluid motion, he grabbed the pistol, wrenching it aside just as Lip fired.
The bullet shattered the bar's dim lamp, plunging the room into total darkness.
Four loud sounds echoed in the darkness. Moments later, 'Mouse' emerged from the bar, slipping something into his coat. He walked down the grimy street, his figure melting into the shadows of a dim alleyway.
...
"The artists in town are hosting a small gathering on Friday," Sherbet said as he strolled beside Annabelle in the art gallery. "It's a good opportunity to mingle with like-minded individuals and share ideas. Who knows? You might find the inspiration for your next masterpiece—the one that earns a spot in this gallery."
Annabelle turned to him, intrigued. "A gathering? Where?"
Sherbet pulled a piece of paper and a pen from his coat, scribbling down an address before handing it to her.
"It's here. You'll come, won't you?"
She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "I will."
Having just arrived in the town, Annabelle knew little about the art scene or how to make her mark. The gathering seemed like the perfect chance to learn, maybe even make a few friends.
"That's wonderful," Sherbet said with a smile. "I look forward to seeing you there."
But just as Annabelle was about to reply, the sound of a sudden commotion interrupted them. Outside, people in the street were running in every direction, their faces painted with panic.
"What's going on?" Annabelle asked, alarmed.
"I don't know," Sherbet replied, his voice tense. "But we need to leave."
Without waiting, he darted into the chaos, disappearing into the crowd. Annabelle, left stunned, glanced around in confusion. Her heart raced as she noticed figures in black uniforms dragging people off the streets.
Panic surged through her, and she bolted into the throng of fleeing townsfolk. As she ran, someone crashed into her, nearly knocking her over, but she managed to regain her balance and push forward.
When she felt she was a safe distance from the chaos, she stopped to catch her breath. Turning to a short, round woman nearby wearing a sweater that had a lot of bright colors, Annabelle asked, "What's happening?"
The woman, panting heavily, finally replied. "Didn't you hear? Someone important was just murdered—killed in cold blood! The officials are rounding up anyone that looks suspicious."
Before Annabelle could respond, the woman hurried off, rushing towards another direction.
Annabelle's mind raced. If the officials were indiscriminately arresting people as they see fit, the streets were no place to linger. She quickened her pace toward the mansion, her only refuge.
When she arrived, she knocked on the massive door. It opened just a crack, revealing Jeffrey's weathered face peering out. His small eyes scanned her and the street beyond before he swung the door wide to let her in.
"Thank you, Jeffrey," she said breathlessly.
Inside the mansion, the tension melted away. The heavy door closed behind her, shutting out the chaos, and a sense of safety began to creep back in her.
In the courtyard, she found Alex lounging in a reclining chair, a book in his hands. He glanced up as she entered.
"Welcome back," he greeted her.
"Have you been here long?" she asked, still catching her breath.
"No," he replied, setting the book down. "I just got back."
"So you've heard what happened?" Annabelle pressed. "Someone was murdered!"
Alex's dark eyes met hers with unsettling calm. "And?"
Annabelle stared at him, speechless. His indifference felt almost unreal. "And? That's all you have to say?"
Closing his book, Alex rose from the chair and walked toward her, his gaze unyielding.
"What's so interesting about someone getting what they deserve?" he asked flatly.
Without another word, he turned and disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him.