Red frowned the moment he saw the Count enter the room holding a box.
Apparently someone had sent it to him and the Count yet there was returner's addresses. He eyed the box as the Count set it on the table between them. Something just didn't feel right, yet Red couldn't place what exactly was causing his unease.
Why would someone send the a package without leaving a returner's address?
Why not stick around and personally give it to them instead of leaving it on the doorstep?
Something about that box wasn't right and Red wasn't really sure he wanted to open it. That they should just toss it out now, yet when he voiced his thoughts to the Count, Victor had just laughed and messed up Red's hair saying that it was probably just nothing. A scarf maybe and they would laugh about how foolish Red was acting later.
Red frowned at the box, for some reason he didn't think there was a scarf inside and wanted to get ride of it, but the Count would have none of that.
The Count smiled at Red as he used a knife to cut open the box's lid...
Foam.
Lots of it too.
Frowning Red grabbed a piece of the foam and removed it from the box. Only for his eye to widen at what was underneath. The Count tackled him to the ground right as the box and the bomb inside exploded.
A sharp ringing sound was all Red could hear as he woke on the floor with a heavy object on top of him and rubble all around.
What had once been a kitchen was nothing more then a ruin of it's former self. With a soft groan, Red sat up and was finally able to see what had fallen on him.
It was the Count yet something was wrong.
His silver eyes were dull and glazed over as he just laid there, as still as stone. Not even his chest was moving.
Red knew that look, having seen it hundreds of times in a lab in Russia. It was a look that only meant one thing:
Death.
An instinct one at that was either caused by the explosion or the knife that stuck stiffly from the Count's back, right where his heart should be.
