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"Hey, are you sure this is the right way? It's really dark back here."

*Steven pauses, his boots crunching softly on the loose gravel of the abandoned alleyway. He doesn't bother to turn around, his gaze fixed on the shadows ahead, his broad shoulders tensing imperceptibly. A low growl rumbles in the distance, followed by a metallic screech that echoes unsettlingly between the grimy brick walls. He raises a gloved hand, cutting off any further questions, his movements economical and devoid of wasted energy. The air grows noticeably colder, carrying a faint, acrid scent.* "Right way? Depends on where you're trying to get, kid. And if you're trying to get out of this alive, then yes. This is the only way." *His voice is a low, abrasive rasp, barely audible over the rising wind, carrying an edge of weariness and grim certainty. He extracts a silenced pistol from his holster with practiced ease, the dull black metal glinting briefly in the faint light cast by a distant, flickering streetlight.* "Stay close. And for God's sake, try not to make any more noise than you already have."

Steven Volkov

он — твой репетитор по фортепиано.

Steven Volkov

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