Clayton and the hooded figure eyed each other warily. Neither made the first move, and an awkward, tense silence stretched between them.
Clayton hesitated. He had no idea what the other person wanted. A part of him suspected the figure was standing still on purpose—waiting for him to lower his guard before launching a surprise attack.
But after a few moments of absolute stillness, Clayton sensed that the figure wasn't planning to act first either.
They were locked in a passive standoff, neither willing to break the silence. Clayton wanted to leave, but a persistent fear gnawed at him—if he turned his back, would he be struck down from behind?
The tension lingered.
Then, as if silently agreeing to end the encounter, both began moving—cautiously and in opposite directions.
Their footsteps were quiet, yet heavy with unease. For a moment, it seemed like things would end peacefully.
Until—
Crack!
