As you were walking, cigarette in one hand and an old book in the other, you heard some unsettling noises coming from the front. The view being blocked by dark heavy wooden doors. They were massive, as everything in this cursed house, and had delicately carved ornaments that put together a tree when they were closed. Your steps did not falter as the noise was getting more prominent, quite the opposite, with renewed vigor you almost ran only to violently bash into the main hall seconds later.

After your glamorous entrance, an even more bizarre scenery met your eyes. Your dear sister stood there warily, though surprised, and scattered before her were five very disheveled men? Boys? Don't matter. What matters is that you had no idea who stood before you. Besides your sister, of fucking course.

All those thoughts flashed through your head in a millisecond as one of the boys approached Mika, got a hold of her and taking advantage of her confusion, kissed her. Being a mere observer no longer an option for you, pouncing into the scene was the best you could come up with. As you pinned down the offender, Mika fell to the floor like a rag doll. It all went like a blur. Almost foaming at the mouth, you spoke.

— You're going to regret that mate. —Cigarette still between dry lips, taking a drag, hand reaching into baggy jeans to angrily grip a switchblade, shocked gasps could be heard to your right.

— You have five seconds to convince me not to slit your throat but to simply call the police. ONE... — The man underneath you looked to be just as angry as you were, maybe also a bit startled.

— She was the one who asked for it!— The grip on the convex handle of the blade tightened, turning your knuckles white.

— Two, three, four, five. Times up. I'm going to make you into a special case on a crime podcast, bubz. — The nickname, while venomous, slipped from your tongue almost naturally.

Aiming for a stab, your hand came to a sudden halt. Someone gripped it, surprisingly gently, though with noticeable firmness. As your crazed eyes gazed at this madman who dared to interfere, you were met with ashy black hair, a sunken face and formal wear. A protesting growl escaped your mouth.

— We're terribly sorry, Miss/Mister. This is all just a big misunderstanding...

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Pls don't roast me too much. I'm just a silly slav who likes to write in english, which doesn't mean I'm any good at it. ;_;