Meanwhile, somewhere in the world…
"Ugh…"
Elmo, Primo's righthand man, stood several steps from the door. His eyes were on the man sitting on the edge of the bed, grunting in pain.
"Don't force yourself," said Elmo to his boss. "It'll take some time for that to completely heal."
Primo arched a brow, hand on his severed shoulder. "I'm not forcing myself, dear. It just ached in every position I do."
Elmo pressed his lips into a thin line. His eyes fell on Primo's sleeve, only to see nothing in it. Primo's other hand was resting on top of it, teeth clenched, in pain from his injury. It had been almost a year since Primo's arm exploded, incapacitating him for months.
"Any news about that clown?" Primo hissed, eyes glinting at the thought of the person who took his arm. "Don't tell me you still haven't gotten a hold of that motherfucker?"
"He is evasive —"
"Bullshit!"
