Really...
One must slam the table in whatever they do.
"Victor is quite slick with psychological warfare; fitting for a Tough Guy who fought his way up from the North," the chubby boss of the 18th Street area, nicknamed "Spicy Dog," frowned, holding a cigarette in his hand.
"It's not for you to praise him, Spicy Dog, you're supposed to find a solution!"
The fatty glanced around with calm eyes and said, "What can we do? As gang members, we only resort to brute force, kill one to warn a hundred, or force men into rebellion squads. If someone's family flees, we kill them!"
Gangsters can't be expected to engage in psychological construction.
Brutal and barbaric!
The others heard the news, looked at each other, and nodded in agreement.
Spicy Dog could see the looks on their faces and felt contempt...
"Boss! Boss!"
Just then, someone shouted from outside the door, their voice short and urgent.
