death of hope

Terra home planet,

Baltimore, Porter Street.

In the "Psychedelic Starlight" bar, a tall and strong man wearing sunglasses broke into the box.

"Sorry to disturb you."

·
Sitting on the leather sofa, the old man in a plaid shirt looked extremely unhappy:
"Who?"

The woman wanted to smooth things over: "I think this gentleman went to the wrong box."

"Who the hell made you talk!"

·
The old man slapped her with a "slap".

The woman was so wronged that she covered her face and wiped away her tears.

Her colleagues rushed to persuade:
"Brother, calm down..."

·
At this time, the man in sunglasses bent slightly and said in a very polite tone:

"Excuse me, are you Lord Aiden?"

"Ah? You are..."

The old man leaned on the back of the sofa and lit a cigarette: "Are you looking for me to do something?"

"That's it."

"Do you understand the rules, come without an appointment?"

"terribly sorry."

"Hmph, there's a stunned boy! Fat Eddie! See off the guests!"

·
"understood."

The broad-shouldered hunk known as "Fat Eddie" was dressed in a black suit,

Sitting up from the sofa, he could tell by his face that he was a ruthless person, and he was not afraid of the man in sunglasses who was half a head taller than him:

"You heard what the boss said."

·
"Wait..." The man in the sunglasses opened his jacket and put a hand in,

"what?!"

·
Fat Eddie embodies the professionalism of an elite bodyguard,

His tall and fat body in bulletproof vest stood in front of his master like a city wall,
One big chubby hand pulled out a silver Desert Eagle pistol with an extended magazine, and the other hand pulled out a Gurkha "dogleg" machete. A pair of small bean-sized eyes squinted, watching the opponent's movements closely.

"Hey buddy... take it easy."

·
The man in sunglasses held it between two fingers, and slowly pulled out a thick kraft paper bag from his arms, and put it on the low table in the private room.

"what?"

"Swipe!" A silver light flashed.

The Gurkha "dog leg" machete precisely cuts into the tiny gap between the kraft paper bag and the table,
With a strong pick, the sharp blade volley cut open the sealed bag mouth,

The bag was full of Tyra Federation banknotes tied with rubber bands, ten bundles in total fell on the table.

"Good knife skills." The man in sunglasses praised in a low voice.

Fat Eddie stood aside silently, still not letting go of his vigilance, the pistol and machete were still in his hands.

·
"The [-] is a meeting gift,"

The man in sunglasses turned around, took off his belt, and emptied his trouser pockets to prove that he was not carrying any weapons:

"I still have 100 million in the car,

I'm sorry that I didn't make an appointment to meet with you in advance, my lord, I came here in such a hurry, I have something urgent to ask for your help. "

·
The old man glanced at the banknotes on the table, then at the man in sunglasses nodding and bowing:

"Fat Eddie, that's all for today."

·
The bodyguards understood, put away their knives and guns, turned off the background music,

From the stack of banknotes on the table, he took out a dozen brand-new bills and stuffed them into the clothes of the woman wiping tears:
"No, tip, share it among yourself!"

The woman laughed through her tears, as if she had forgotten that she just got a big mouth:

"Boss atmosphere!"

"Go away!"

Several women with heavy makeup jumped and left the private room, and the sound of them scrambling for banknotes and tearing was faintly heard in the dim corridor.

·
The bodyguard looked around the door and closed the door.

The old man exhaled smoke at the man in the sunglasses:

"Go ahead."

"I had a buddy who got caught dealing hallucinogens,

That... Please make arrangements and help him with the whole way of being released on parole for medical treatment. It is best to put him under house arrest at home wearing electronic monitoring shackles, so that he will suffer less. "

·
"What... that's it?"

The old man stared at the banknotes on the table, imagining the 100 million lying quietly in the bag in the trunk of a car parked outside the nightclub.

"This price? What's the matter?

Something is wrong! "

"Well... Actually...

That brother of mine traded... a bit too much..." the man in the sunglasses stammered.

"How many?"

"Uh... half... half a ton."

·
"Ouch, hold the nest!"

The old man was so choked that he spit out his cigarette butt:
"Did you hear that, Fat Eddie?!"

"Hahaha! I'm afraid I'm going to get half of the junkies in Baltimore high!"

The bodyguard laughed loudly, picked up the wine glass, and gradually let go of his guard.

The old man waved his hand and motioned for the man in sunglasses to sit down:
"You are so lucky to be surrounded by a loyal and rich buddy like you!"

"Who says no." Marcus Lynch took off his sunglasses.