The Purple Perceiver

The Razor's Edge

"Didn't you hear me?" The man in the hoodie exclaimed, "I said, hand over that ancient stone tablet to me! Don't you understand?"

He yelled at the manager, whom he held at gunpoint. "Turn it in!" He repeated firmly.

"I-I can't. . ." That's all the manager kept mumbling, as if he were bound to protect it.

The man narrowed his rather pale, brown eyes, staring straight into the manager's as if he were trying to say, "You made me do it." He placed his finger around the trigger. A shiver went down the manager's body, but he didn't move an inch.

And the crowd went wild. There was a roar of excitement; some tourists were running, some were screaming frantically. Everyone was panicking, and only one thought occurred to them. Just getting the hell out of there, alive.

Of course! Who wanted to be killed in a museum by a silly man with a gun, all for the sake of some boring ancient text?
Such was the mindset of those high-class individuals. Even in the face of danger, their primary concern was self-preservation.

"Out of my way!" bellowed a bearded middle-aged man, callously shoving a little girl aside and propelling her to the other side violently.

The man in the hoodie's gaze fixated on her, and with a sinister smirk, he seized her firmly. Gradually, he aimed the gun at her, introducing a chilling element of threat to the unfolding situation. The girl screamed in vain but her pleas fell on deaf ears, and all the others could muster was a vacant gaze.

The girl shrieked as the man tightened his grip, trying to get the crowd's attention.

"I'ma shoot this girl right now!" He yelled, loading his gun. Understanding the gravity of the situation, the manager finally stepped forward. "Calm down, sir!" he implored, attempting to diffuse the escalating tension.

The man stared at him in surprise. "Oh, so now you're gonna stop me, huh?"
The manager heaved a deep sigh. He mustered up his courage as he continued.

"Sir, please. These are Mrs. Kazuya's esteemed guests. You don't want her to--"

But the man wasn't ready to listen.

"Oh, just shut up, alright!" He snapped at him in agitation. "If she's so rich, why can't she afford to give this poor fellow a piece of her art?"

Whispers echoed through the hall, accompanied by the girl's escalating sobs. The atmosphere seemed tense.

"That's because she certainly doesn't like to donate her riches to 'beggars' like you. . ." A sardonic voice arose. It seemed as if it came from behind the man.

Turning, he discovered another man standing there, clad in a hoodie. His attire revealed nothing, with both his hair and face concealed from view.
The man raised an eyebrow, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"You think you can just waltz in here and put a halt to what I'm doing?" He took a step forward, a challenging glint in his eyes.

His tone was confrontational, and the atmosphere grew tense. The other person squared his shoulders, maintaining a determined expression.

"If I have to," he replied, his voice steady. The room seemed to crackle with an unspoken tension as the two eyes locked.

The onlookers held their breath, waiting to see how the confrontation would unfold. The air felt charged with uncertainty, and the next move would determine the course of the encounter.

"So... you're playing it cool, huh? Holding the girl hostage?" The man spoke with confidence, expressing a certainty in his words. Then he leapt in and whispered in an unsettling voice that sent an eerie shiver through the air, "You're just a pawn in their game, aren't you? Too afraid to defy orders, too weak to break free."

Upon hearing those words, the other man momentarily froze. His jaw clenched, and he retorted, his voice low but resolute, "I'm nobody's pawn. . . Who the hell do you think you are, thinking that you know me!?"

The man chuckled, seemingly amused by the agent's defiance.

"Oh? I wouldn't ask that if I were you. Plus, you're in no position to question me. Why? Because I know everything. . ." Then he took a deep breath, and continued in a creepy, menacing voice, "Your superiors won't be happy if you fail this mission, will they?" He then leaned in closer, intensifying the pressure. "You're trapped, Agent, and there's no easy way out for you."

The man's face turned white at the mention of the word 'Agent'.

"No. . . You don't know anything! I-It's not possible--." He stuttered as drops of sweat began on his face.

The man just peered at him with his mystical blue eyes, a smile forming. "Oh? I don't?"

"Yes! You don't know her--"

The man's eyes shot up in surprise, "Her?"

A smug smile spread across his face, "Oh my, oh my. So your leader is --"

The agent's eyes went wide. "N-No! She's not who you think she is!"

The man let out a short laugh, "Oh? But I didn't even start guessing!" With a swift movement of his hands, he snatched the agent's gun, pointing it straight at him.

With a sly grin and a confident twinkle in his eye, he playfully remarked, "Ah, caught you," accompanied by a casual wink that seemed to convey a hidden layer of amusement. Collapsing to the ground, the agent released the girl. He wept, burying his head in his hands, "What do you want from me!?"

The agent lowered his gun and stated in a matter-of-fact voice, "I simply want to know who sent you. . . If you reveal it, I might consider letting you go."

The agent stammered, "She's the almighty Clovia. You can't defeat her. . . You never could."

The man scoffed and remarked in an obvious tone, "Who said I'm gonna defeat her? I just need the tablet, that's all."

"But if you're doing that, you're going against her! You're getting in her way!" The agent exclaimed in fright.

"I couldn't care less," he declared, strolling past without a second glance.
The agent hastily stood up and yelled in a hoarse voice, "Honestly, who the hell are you? Having so much confidence infused in your body?"

Smiling smugly, the man uttered in a hushed tone while making his exit, "Razor. . . Agent Razor."

The realization struck the man so profoundly that his eyes widened, and he promptly lost consciousness.