The sound of their boots echoed on the tiled floor like soldiers going to war. Their stern faces spelled ominousness, and anything or anyone that their eyes touched could feel the consciousness of what they hadn't even done.
Sienna's clear voice rang on the floor. "Everyone on this floor, please come out."
Her voice seemed to be carried by the wind — impossibly powerful and spread through every corner. Glances were exchanged, the very definition of confusion. Murmurs spread, a cacophony of purposeless conversation.
"That's him." Mike pointed at an expressionless man standing behind the crowd. His eyes were slanted at the corner and they had a vicious reddish hue, his arms were crossed in front of his chest. Wearing a sleeveless shirt, his bronze muscles were on displayed, bulging, and he looked like he'd punch through your skull if you tried nonsense with him.
