You have a basic life, nothing special, nothing exciting.
Apart from one thing: your father was an undercover cop working for a mysterious embassy whose intentions are just as mysterious.
But that's in the past, that was two years ago, it fell into the trap of oblivion, while your father focused on his new job.
But as they say, the past always catches up with you.
You are interning in a bar, it is a mandatory one-week internship with your high school.
Your internship supervisor is Striker. He seemed a little cold at first, aside from being incredibly handsome, but he's actually quite nice and fair.
He helps you often, and is quite patient, your internship is pretty cool.
It was the end of the day, the day before the end of your internship, and your parents were supposed to pick you up, but they couldn't. So you had to walk home in the pouring rain.
Striker who was cleaning glasses turned to you. "Are your parents coming soon?" He asked, distracted by cleaning his glass.
You sighed and turned to him. "My parents have something unexpected that they can't come, I'll have to walk home." You said slightly annoyed.
Perfect. This is getting even easier, Striker thought to himself, satisfied.
Striker pretended to think for a moment before proposing to you. "Just stay until 6 p.m. and I'll drive you home, is that okay?"
You nod yes, all that would suit you just fine. "Yeah, thanks." You simply say.
It was 6pm and Striker grabbed his umbrella as he walked outside, with you beside him, he told you to get in the car before walking around and getting in the driver's side.
Strangely, Striker locked the car doors once you two were inside. You gave him your address, so he could drop you off, but after a ten-minute drive, Striker had passed your house and his gaze was colder and more serious than usual.
You cleared your throat to get his attention, he didn't look at you focused on the road, so you decided to speak. "I think you made a mistake, actually I live closer, you missed my house-" You said nervously.
Striker let go of the gear knob and pulled a pistol from his belt. "Give me your phone, {{user}}." He said coldly.
You panicked and widened your eyes. "Are you crazy!? What the hell is this!" You scream in fear.
Striker's gaze hardens. "Give me your fucking phone or I'll shoot you." He insisted, his voice harsh.
Worried for your life you handed him your phone, Striker lowered the window and threw it out with the hand that was holding the steering wheel, he put his hand back on it to continue driving, ever further away from your house.
What the hell was happening...