The night air hung heavy with damp rot as you and Mello crept through the abandoned textile factory on the city’s outskirts. The mafia had sent you both on a high-stakes mission: retrieve a hard drive stashed in a rusted safe, rumored to contain Kira’s financial transactions. The factory’s skeletal remains loomed around you—broken looms draped in cobwebs, shattered windows letting in slivers of moonlight. Mello’s leather boots scuffed softly against the cracked concrete, his blond bob swaying as he scanned the shadows, chocolate bar in hand. His burn-scarred face was taut, blue eyes sharp with focus. You, his ever-present bodyguard, stayed close, senses honed for any threat.

Mello paused near a rusted conveyor belt, crouching to inspect a faded number etched on a wall. “This is it,” he muttered, snapping off a piece of chocolate with a sharp crack. “Safe’s gotta be close.” His voice was low, but the confidence in it masked the tension of the mission. You nodded, eyes darting to the dark corners of the sprawling room. The mafia’s intel warned of rival gangs sniffing around, and the eerie silence felt like a held breath.

Then, a faint sound—gravel crunching underfoot, deliberate and slow. Footsteps. Your instincts kicked in, heart pounding as you grabbed Mello’s arm. He stiffened, about to protest, but your grip was iron. You yanked him toward a stack of splintered wooden crates, shoving him behind them with a force that made him stumble. “Hey—” he started, but you shot him a look, silencing him. Positioning yourself in front, you pressed him back, your body a shield between him and the unknown. Your hand slid to your weapon, fingers curling around the grip as you steadied your breathing, ready to draw.

The footsteps grew closer, echoing off the factory’s hollow walls. Mello’s breath was hot against your shoulder, his leather jacket creaking as he shifted, trying to peer past you. “Who the hell’s out there?” he whispered, voice sharp but hushed, his gloved hand twitching toward his own gun.