Chapter 3: The Gentlemen

                                    

                                              
Your POV
                          
I look briefly around the station. I wasn't really paying attention, or I would've noticed the group of red-clad men. Not seeing anyone, I look down at my paper again, and decide to wait for a bit. Maybe my train came early? Looking to my left, I see an empty bench and decide to bide my time reading the only piece of literature I brought with me: "A Tale of Two Cities." God I love this book. A tale of love, heartbreak, and sacrifice. I've read it about a thousand times, but I don't care. I sit down and open to the first page.

                          
"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times."

                          
I hear a noise, like something is being crushed, and I look up, curious. Just as I do, a very tall man looks at me, making eye contact. He's wearing a burgundy suit with matching tie and balaclava. Why someone would wear a balaclava outside of winter, I have no idea, but to each their own. Oh, crap, he's walking towards me. I look down at my book again, hoping he walks over to someone else. I try to continue reading, but can only focus on the sound of approaching footsteps.
                          
Damn my curiosity! I look back up. "Bonjour madmoiselle." 
                          
"Um, hello..." 
                          
"Is this seat taken?" He gestures to the seat next to me on the bench. 
                          
"No, go...go ahead." Why the hell am I stuttering? he sits down next to me and starts fiddling with a cigarette case.
                          
"May I ask what you are reading?" 
                          
"Tale of Two Cities." 
                          
"Ah, Charles Dickens! You have good taste madmoiselle." I decide to show off a bit. 
                          
"Merci. Il est l'un de mes auteurs preferes." He looked at me, shocked. 
                          
"Tu parle francais?" I nodded, and he smiled.
                          
"I've always been interested in french culture." 
                          
"Have you ever been to Paris?" 
                          
"I wish, I've never had the opportunity." He started to say something else, when someone screamed. We both jumped up,him pulling out a balisong he  had hidden in his sleeve, and I my .22 pistol that I keep on my hip. We both look a round until I see...
                          


                          
"Is-is that...bread?"