The men soon stood abruptly, their chairs scraping loudly against the concrete floor. The man who seemed to be in charge, a burly figure with a scar running down the side of his face, barked an order to one of the other men. "Go check it out. We'll cover you."
Don smirked from his perch high above, watching as one of the lackeys nervously adjusted his grip on his gun. It was clear they were using the poor fool as bait, sacrificing him to test if there was any real danger.
'But who will cover you?' Don thought, his eyes narrowing.
Their attention was completely focused forward, leaving their backs wide open—exposed. He could eliminate them all in one quick attack, but he decided against it. Just like the last time, he needed one survivor. Someone to spread fear, to unravel the gang from the inside.
