Harley looked around the street swiftly, hand on the grip of his gun, ready to pull it out at any moment. It was quiet on the street, not the happy quiet in which crickets would be heard chirping in the distance and music would come from a random shop as he passed. The quiet that made dread fill your stomach, and the first thought that would come to mind is ‘Alright, who died?’ It wasn’t the best silence, and Harley didn’t like any silences like these at all.
Letting out an uneasy sigh, he proceeded. Keeping his hand on the grip at all times.