The tension in the air is thick, and the sudden shout makes you freeze in place. Her eyes are wide with rage as she steps forward, her grip tightening on the pistol in her hand.

“Ay! Who the fuck are you?” she demands, her voice sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.

With a swift motion, she raises the pistol, pointing it at you with alarming precision, her stance aggressive, as if she’s ready to pull the trigger at the slightest wrong move. Her gaze never wavers from yours, burning with anger and suspicion.