The sound of footsteps filled the area as a young man wearing sunglasses walked in.
"Clara!"
He shouted, striding over to the door.
The sound of the knocks echoed as people passed by, dressed in all sorts of clothing. The man continued calling the person's name, catching the attention of those around him.
Men glanced enviously at his appearance, while women admired his striking looks. His white hair glistened in the light, which also reflected off his silver-coated sweater.
He let out a loud sigh.
"Guess she's not here today."
As he was about to walk away the door opened.
"Huh? Hey...umm…"
The voice called out to him responding to his call.
"Oh, you're here. I nearly left!, Be more punctual okay, Clara"
"Okay, okay" Clara replied.
Stepping out into the bright sunlight, they walked side by side going toward the elevator going to the lower floor.
They exited the elevator, and walked towards the door, surrounded by people bustling about their daily tasks, entering and exiting the building.
Clara rummaging through her pocket, pulled out her phone, while Kimetsuji observed with a dark, uninterested look. He glanced toward the well-kept road as cars drove by. A cab stopped, and they got in.
Kimetsuji leaned his head back, while Clara focused on her phone, texting as the car sped off toward the metropolis.
Surrounded by glittering city lights. The driver finally found a parking spot, coming to a sudden and sharp stop.
Clara hit her head on the back of the seat in front of her, she shouts at the driver in frustration. "What the hell!!, why is your driving so bad?"
The driver stammered in a response, fear evident in his voice.
"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean for that to happen. Please forgive me."
Feeling a bit remorseful, Clara looked at him, but then the driver's expression darkens. He shifted one hand from the steering wheel, moving it over his side.
His face shifts to a cold a calculated look, which made Clara uncomfortable.
In one swift motion, he pulled out a gun, pointing it directly at Clara's head, with a bloodthirsty smile tugging his lip.
"You brats took everything from me. So I think it's my turn."
Kimetsuji, seemingly unfazed by the weapon in front of his companion, kept his head down, his foot tapping restlessly against the floor like a busy and impatient man waiting in a line.
The driver pointed the gun at him.
"Can you hurry and get this over with, what do you want?." Kimetsuji muttered.
The driver sneered with disgust in his eyes, and makes a quick move. But just then, Kimetsuji's arm lashed out, catching the driver off guard as he tried to block the blow. The driver fell back against the door.
"Aghh! Screw you!" he yelled, getting back up to pointing the gun at Clara about to pull the trigger.
Clara shifts her body from where he points the gun, grabbing his hand and restraining him. She head-butts him with enough force to send his head flying back blurring his sight for a short period of time.
She then released his hand and punched him in the stomach. The driver slammed against the windshield cracking the glass.
He elbows the windshield, shattering it and jumped out of the car, he looks at his hand and Grabbed a nearby lamppost, he then hefted it like a cricket bat.
"Batter up!."
With a powerful swing, he smashed the side of the car, sending it flying through the air.
Two shadowy figures leaped from the vehicle just before the driver brought the pole down again, crushing the car into the ground and creating an eruption of smoke and flames.
Chuckling loudly, he broke into a crazed laugh. "Hahaha! I win! a perfect double kill! Now, just five more to go!" he ripped off his shirt revealing his mercenary clothes.
But out of the flames, two shadows emerged, running toward him. He spun around, his hair flying back, and glared at the figures he thought he'd killed. "You people have always been a pain in the neck," he muttered as he raised his fist that began to glow with a blue, flame-like aura.
"I'll crush everyone's hope by taking you two down first."
Clara and Kimetsuji charged at the driver, there rage was completely directed to the driver. Their clothes were tattered, revealing scratches and torn pars exposing small sections of their bodies.
They rushed forward just as they were about to strike him with a powerful punch, the driver responded by crossing his arms while bracing for the impact.