Dictator

9. Double Trouble

The pair walked quietly onwards without a pause. This whole atmosphere felt like it could swallow them into a vortex of pure horror. It was intimidating to an unbearable degree. Chuuya was a lot calmer from an outside perspective than Tomie, whilst she was tightly gripping his hand and nearly crushing it. After some walking into the eerie, dark alleyway, they eventually came to a halt as they reached a dead-end.

"Huh?"

"I don't get it..."

Alarm bells were ringing very loudly in their ears now, they frantically looked around and there still was nothing to look for. This situation was getting insanely infuriating. It almost felt like a fever dream, and Chuuya wouldn't have been surprised if all of what he was seeing was a result of him still being drunk. He was almost convinced that it was the case until someone swiped Tomie's pistol off her and harshly grabbed her from behind, placing the tip of their gun on her head. Their other hand held a gun pointed at Chuuya.

Neither of them even heard the culprit at all.

The man's ash-colored eyes held the intensity of flames, a glimpse of bloodlust, and flares of danger. He was a tall man with dark gray eyes and a slightly pointed nose. The corners of his lips had been turned to a scowl, brows furrowed and forehead crinkled. He had hazel hair that reached his nape and tucked behind his ears, where his bangs are slightly swept to the right above his forehead. He wore a white collared shirt adorned with a white cravat and a black vest, over which he donned a dark green, collared tailcoat with white accents. Additionally, he wore gray pants which were tucked into a pair of black knee-high boots. Judging by his attire, it seemed that he came from quite a luxurious space, possibly a wealthy, or perhaps even a well-known organization.

"Don't move. Or I'll shoot her." The man's high, grating voice caused bile to rise at the back of Chuuya's throat as he watched him tighten his arm around his partner's neck, further depriving her of oxygen. "Since you're the bigger threat, Chuuya Nakahara, you're going down first. Surrender nicely and you'll be saved from the sight of your colleague's brains getting blown." Tomie winced at the cold metal digging into her skull, but she couldn't deny that it was a thrilling feeling.

That feeling was the opposite of what she should've been feeling.

Likewise, Chuuya should've been afraid for his friend's life AND his own. There were no risks to be taken while his partner was on the verge of death itself. He was practically defenseless. The only thing he could hope to do was to get on his knees and beg for the man to let go of them.

He'd missed the warmth of his bed.

Chuuya looked into Tomie's eyes and observed her expression which mirrored his. He saw the desperation in her eyes. A thousand words were exchanged between them in silent communication.

He should've been terrified.

She should've been terrified.

The silent desperation finally broke loose, and upon blinking a few times, Chuuya and Tomie suddenly burst into boisterous laughter, as if this assassin wasn't currently holding them both at gunpoint while leaving them defenseless. As if their lives weren't currently on the edge. Both of them howled with laughter. At first, it was out of genuine amusement, but it soon turned into the most menacing chortle the hazel-haired man's ever heard in his entire life. It filled him with sheer fright for his life. It was pure evil. He swallowed thickly and sweated, eyes shaking in fear. The man dug the muzzle of his gun into Tomie's temple in frustration. "What... What the hell's so damn funny?!"