The rain pelted down, heavy and fast, onto one Harry Styles as he made his way through the dark streets of Bradford. It was nearing midnight and the storm had been going at it for the past three hours. It was at it's peak now, the most dangerous point, but Harry moved swiftly through the downpour, uncaring about the possible dangers that the high winds and dark clouds posed.
He had urgent business to attend to, and no amount of bad weather was going to stop him right now.
In his eyes, it was lucky that the storm was raging so wildly through town. It meant that no one dared to barely step a foot outside. The streets were empty of a single living soul, aside from himself of course. It was nice not having to bother being even semi-friendly to random pedestrians as he hurried down the wet sidewalk.
The building looked much the same as always, red worn bricks, a faded set of double doors, and a sign that had been obscured by several coats of thick white paint.
This didn't perturb Harry in the slightest though as he pulled open one of the heavy doors and peered into the dark space. Faint lights glowed along the walls, illuminating a metal elevator. Running a hand through his damp curls, he stepped forward into the dimly lit room and didn't hesitate in pressing the elevator button.
Almost immediately, the doors screeched open, the metal slabs so old that they scraped noisily against each other, but still Harry didn't even hesitate as he entered the enclosed space and began his ascent upwards.
Harry had been here many times before, seen the pretty tiled floor of the elevator beneath his feet that reminded him of a beach strewn with beautiful seashells. He had felt the soft material of the deep purple walls lined in faded metal that matched the rest of the elevator, and he had heard the soft tinkling of an unfamiliar tune in the background. It was nothing new to him.
The elevator shuddered to a stop with a sudden jerk, but Harry remained at ease, used to the fact that it wasn't quite as shiny and new like a hotel's might have been. Once more the doors clanged open, the sound echoing out into a spacious room.
Everything was white: the ceiling, the walls, the floor. Even the wooden desk near the corner of the room had been painted the color of ivory, matching papers spilled across the desktop.
Harry was sure that the only thing that seemed out of place was the massive black leather chair that was currently turned away from him, facing a set of floor-to-ceiling glass windows that provided the only source of light from the moon basking between the storm clouds that had settled over Bradford.
For the first time that night, Harry hesitated. His previous visits had been more... welcoming. This time, it seemed, he was being counted on to take the initiative, so he cleared his throat. "I've got the money," he stated into the silence, his deep voice resounding off the walls.
There were a few long moments before, finally, the leather chair began to turn slowly. Harry prepared himself mentally, practically seeing the man he had been working with for the past few weeks before he had fully turned around, but when Harry's eyes refocused on the person in the chair, it wasn't who he was expecting.
The man who sat there was dressed in a suit, silver hair slicked back, and a wry smile on his face. Harry knew that his face conveyed shock, but he didn't even try to compose it. "Sykes?" he breathed after what felt like several minutes. "What are you doing here?"
"It seems that your meeting has been rescheduled," Sykes replied smoothly, his smile never wavering. "Take a seat, would you? We have much to discuss."
Harry remained stationary, however, unwavering despite Sykes's words. He had never been one to particularly care for the ruthless gang leader, knowing that he worked to tear people down, to invoke fear into the souls of those who knew who he was. Harry was the only exception to all of the others. He didn't fear Sykes. He didn't fear anything.
