ƬΉΣ PΛЯLΣY

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          You froze, instinctively locking your jaw

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          You froze, instinctively locking your jaw.  Despite the lack of recent photographs to identify the man standing before you while you analyzed him from afar, a natural habit in the field. You noticed Matt still bored a striking resemblance to his childhood photo, in spite of the tactic rifle that he carried alongside in the stricken present; You briskly but wittily recalled that one photograph still sharp in your mind, imagining it paper clipped to the classified files atop of Rio's desktop. So much that the years had done little to soften his features; if anything, they had sharpened them, turning the once-puckish adolescent into a husk man of average stature with a slight stubble that contoured his jaw.

            Matt's eyes narrowed as he noticed your intense stare. "Take a picture, it'll last longer," he shouted, almost chuckling at his own joke.

As your mind scattered all of its index for an equally witty response, Nobu, ever the opportunist, seized the moment. "Oh, just a group of admirers? Do you all come with matching outfits too?!" he snarked, underlying dangerous tones to his gesture. It was a risky move; they could have shot you both dead by now and yet he had room for banter?

         Between exchanges, a heavy silence between life and death hung in the air, prompting you to shift your feet ever so slightly. The slightest movement drew the attention of the rowdy henchmen, their rifles trained on you with every inch they closed in.

Matt's smug etched against his pallid face, soon, frowned into a scorn. "How do you want to die, Mr. Cool-Pants?", pulling out a lighter and cupping it in his palm as he lit a cigarette.

       "I'd rather not, but if you're offering, make it quick and painless," Nobu held his hands high by his head such as a criminal that was about to be detained.

             And despite attempting to maintain a straight face to conceal any reaction, you couldn't obstruct yourself from raising your eyebrows in a nearly ridiculing expression. "Matt's more nerdy in person than I thought he'd be," you humored to yourself as though you had forgotten where you were.

"You think you're clever, huh?" The bald daunting cohort to the corner of Matt gravely interjected into the parley. By the scar that was carved across the man's face and hands, you tensed up, hoping Nobu wouldn't do or say anything impetuous.

"Well, let me tell you something, smart guy. In this game, cleverness only gets you so far."   With each word, he took a deliberate tread closer to Nobu, his lips downturned in a contemptuous frown that wrinkled deep lines onto his chin.

"Hey, that's my line, y'know, Sho" Matt retorted, while nicotine smoke exhaled from his lips in sarcastic play.  The audacity of his remark sparked a flicker of fire under you, irking you how nonchalantly he said it as if he owned the phrase.

Sensing Nobu's mounting resistance, you couldn't help but feel it piling within yourself. His hands clenched into veined fists, a futile display of defiance against the towering sumo-like giant. His shoe chirred one last thud closer as he now completely covered the full moon's shimmer, casting a menacing shadow over both of you against the dark, tarnished concrete.

You knew Nobu stood no chance physically, if only you had one remaining bullet. Oh! A brilliant idea infiltrated your head.

"Welp! I guess I'm out of bullets!" You announce, scanning your eyes around the confused men. At truth with your magazine emptied, the gun became nothing more than a useless weight in your hand, and it just happened to conveniently align with your perfect diversion.
You hurl your gun across the concrete, a coverup to you smuggling the pocketknife hidden in your sleeve smoothly into the palm of your hand. 

        "What's that smell..." You teetered on the presence of someone else behind you as you fiddled with the knife in your hand; a strong wood-like odor wafted through the air, assaulting your senses. Who could have anticipated feeling so cold but hot at the same time, was possible— akin to having a fever with a case of chills frenzying inside your chest?

"This is dragging on for far too long! Let's just have done with them before Mello gets here and mount their heads!" The raspy voice behind you cried out in impatience. Like Taxidermy? Flashed in your head, remembering the prized deer and buffalo that hung up like tapestry in the homes of Russia. No!

"No!"

No! No! The word ripped from your throat, in a grunt. Torn between fear and defiance, as you pivoted on your heels to confront the looming creep behind you. The figure, lanky and agile attempted to miss you but failed; in a swift impulsive hit of a sensation similar to morphine that drove you to thrust the pocketknife, into his face.

The knife dragged moderately into the man's cheek with an exuberant force, causing a splatter of crimson that slashed stains onto your clothes. However, before you could even register the impact of your actions, strong long hands closed around your throat, choking off your breath in a vice-like grip as a symphony of gunfire barraged and hit you. Your foot, your leg, the pain felt like sharp shockwaves of acid penetrating your body, within seconds the visionary acid began to gnaw at your muscles into the bone marrows down below.

No longer feeling the sensation of pain as the pressure asphyxiated around your neck and strangled you nearly unconscious, while you fruitlessly resisted. "I..I can't..." And your eyes swelled up into stagnant pools at its tear-ducts.

As your vision blurred up on the slip of darkness, a striking figure approached from above. His flawless, straight blonde hair cascaded around his face to his shoulders. Though your sight was failing, it seemed as if he was walking on the dark side of the moon, or a deserted beach devoid of any human life.

"𝚂𝚑𝚎𝚜 𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗, 𝙼𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚘."

"𝚃𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚢" The dark sky descend and twinkling stars his tall figure as almost his lips moved in slow-motion. "𝚂𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚋𝚎... 𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚏𝚞𝚕."

Those were the last words you heard mingling with the sound of waves crashing against the port, before oblivion enveloped you in its warm embrace.

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