Post by account_disabled on Dec 11, 2023 6:38:55 GMT
He sat alone, sipping a beer and smoking a cigarette. It was black as ink, ugly as the plague, silent as a tomb, yet it exuded the same allure as the dirtiest of sins. He spoke in monosyllables and was as blunt as a whip. He never compromised. You gave him the job and he told you the price. You could accept it or pay him five thousand dollars for his trouble. The Dark One had no time to waste. Sounds like that guy over there , Sullivan thought. He approached the table cautiously. The Dark One was sipping a beer and didn't even spare him a glance. Sullivan grabbed the back of a wooden chair. "Can I sit?" he asked. “The chair isn't mine,” was the reply. Let's get off to a good start , Sullivan thought as he sat down.
I wanted to meet you for» “The only reason a desperado would want to meet me.” The Dark One took a puff, inhaled the smoke, let it settle in his lungs, felt the nicotine entering his circulation, then spat it out in Phone Number Data irregular clouds. "Who is the coffin?" he added finally. “Loffa,” Sullivan replied. «Do you know candidate Loffa…» "Yes," replied the Dark One. "A good person." Definitely unpleasant, this Scuro , thought Sullivan. “How much do you want?” «Who did you take me for?», the man asks, irritated. “For one of the whores you bring to the office?” Sullivan blushed. His right-hand man, Sanders, once a month would get him a twenty-year-old girl he picked up off the street, polish her up a bit with party money, and hire her as his secretary for a week or two, the time it took Sullivan to get tired of the toy and request another one.
How the man knew all this was a mystery, Sullivan said to himself. “I have rates,” Dark One finally added, lifting his mug of beer, “and the rate for this job is five hundred thousand dollars on the nail.” To the devil! Sullivan brought the briefcase closer. “Okay, I accept,” he said, pointing to the briefcase. «In here you will find three hundred thousand dollars as a down payment. The rest when the job is finished.» He allowed himself a long look at the ghostly man in front of him, trying to penetrate through the dark glasses. Then he stood up but, before leaving, he turned to the killer again. “Tell me something,” he said, “do they call you the Dark One because you always dress in black?” “No,” replied the other.
I wanted to meet you for» “The only reason a desperado would want to meet me.” The Dark One took a puff, inhaled the smoke, let it settle in his lungs, felt the nicotine entering his circulation, then spat it out in Phone Number Data irregular clouds. "Who is the coffin?" he added finally. “Loffa,” Sullivan replied. «Do you know candidate Loffa…» "Yes," replied the Dark One. "A good person." Definitely unpleasant, this Scuro , thought Sullivan. “How much do you want?” «Who did you take me for?», the man asks, irritated. “For one of the whores you bring to the office?” Sullivan blushed. His right-hand man, Sanders, once a month would get him a twenty-year-old girl he picked up off the street, polish her up a bit with party money, and hire her as his secretary for a week or two, the time it took Sullivan to get tired of the toy and request another one.
How the man knew all this was a mystery, Sullivan said to himself. “I have rates,” Dark One finally added, lifting his mug of beer, “and the rate for this job is five hundred thousand dollars on the nail.” To the devil! Sullivan brought the briefcase closer. “Okay, I accept,” he said, pointing to the briefcase. «In here you will find three hundred thousand dollars as a down payment. The rest when the job is finished.» He allowed himself a long look at the ghostly man in front of him, trying to penetrate through the dark glasses. Then he stood up but, before leaving, he turned to the killer again. “Tell me something,” he said, “do they call you the Dark One because you always dress in black?” “No,” replied the other.