The man in chains stared at the door in anticipation of the death lord’s arrival, from what he had overheard from the conversation between two men, now probably standing dutifully outside, guarding the door as if he was gonna run anywhere. He could...
He definitely could run away from this smelly, rotten, dusty and dingy cells and also from the rat that had made his shoe, its favorite food, But he couldn’t, whoever had made these steel locks had done a bloody great job. So, he had anticipated their next move.
Call him. The big boss. The death lord.
Speaking of the devil, The door was thrown open with a bang and whom he saw next had his heart faltering and his throat constricting. Even, the rat nibbling on his shoe didn’t bother him, because he was too focused on the man that emerged from the shadows.
“Y-You are.... How can this be possible?”
The man was dumbfounded, absolutely stumped, How can the best man of financial world be... the devil?
He was gonna find out very soon.
The stilled silence lingered behind as he shuffled out of the remand room of the Warehouse and was met with the impassive face of his cousin.
“You killed him.”
It wasn’t a question. It was an implied conclusion from the eerily silence behind, so he didn’t respond.
“How are we supposed to get information about the stolen weaponry?”
“.... 22, East Dock.”
His cousin gave him a dry smile, “You don’t per chance know who send him, do you?”
His cousin looked at him, as if he had gone mad and laughed hysterically. “That old duck? He couldn’t hurt a fly on his own.”
“... I know, Nakul.”
Nakul’s laughter died in his throat and his expression became solemn.
He nodded. “.... yes.”
“Sh*t!” Nakul hissed to himself and he sighed.
A Sh*t indeed!