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A/N - I highly recommend that you press play on the song above and let it run throughout this chapter! ;)
The lightning was a creature, desperate to escape the vicious bonds of the dark grey storm clouds.
Panic.
You were panicking.
Internally and externally.
Pure panic had flooded your system; you could feel it, building like an unstoppable snowball in the very pit of your stomach. You could not concentrate on anything that was currently going on. The next step was your heart starting to beat harder and faster, adrenaline levels rising, and your brain beginning to fire out negative and imperious thoughts like a machine gun. You began to sweat nervously. It felt like your skin had another set of hot skin on the outside, like a bin bag, it moved over your body and never released. The negative, panicked thoughts ridden with fear and anxiety kept coming like waves on rocks. Your panic was made even worse when you heard Dazai mutter a string of profanities under his breath, making sure to stay deathly still as he could feel the tip of the gun being pointed right at the very back of his head.
"Make one move, and they all die." Mori was thoroughly enjoying this, and you could tell since it was evidently apparent by the expression on his face, highlighting his sheer malevolence. When he tilted his head to the side, taunting the helpless members of the Armed Detective Agency with his thumb hovering hazardously close above the big red button, the light on his features emanating from the flames dancing above the candelabra had cast sharp, shadow-like angles and shapes over the rest of his face. So this was what power had looked like to the unworthy; the insane passion in that wretched man's eyes, the smile that was torn into his pale face resembling a ripped, unpainted canvas. The little girl on his lap giggled in amusement; as if this were some kind of kid's show made purely for the sake of twisted, sickening entertainment.
"Now now, Ogai—" Dazai grated, but as he did, the armed men had cocked their guns. Dazai's words were delivered with an undertone of threat, any friendly pretences finally diminished. "It doesn't have to be this way."
These bodyguards could have been bankers just based on their appearances alone—grey suits, grey hair, grey skin, black sunglasses. They were built with pure muscle and murderous, lethal instincts. They had no minds of their own; being controlled solely by the Port Mafia.
"Then hand over the girl." Mori's lips pulled tightly, and that's when you realised, that this was the real him. He had definitely lived up to his title of being the cruel boss that knew no bounds—whose kingdom was built with the bones and blood of thousands and thousands of victims; innocent and guilty. To think that Dazai had once worked under such a wicked, wicked man was truly, maddeningly terrifying. He was not a man. He was a Mephistophelean creature. An irredeemable villain. "Give us the girl, and we'll let you—your fellow members, and the rest of the hostages back at the agency go free. All you have to do is hand over the girl."
