Guadalupe Island, Morelos District.
"Let me go! I'm going to kill this bastard!" Santos roared, his face contorted with rage, as he held a stick in his hand and burned with fury watching the satisfied look on the man's face on the TV, boasting smugly.
"Santos, cool it, cool it! It's just TV," his good buddy Campos restrained him from behind.
But the guy had been on a growth spurt recently, hitting almost 15 years old and shooting up to around 1.7 meters, his body getting more and more solid with nutritional supplements.
Valentina was also soothing him at his side.
Talking about Mr. Victor in front of Santos, wasn't that like singing "Sunshine, Rainbow, White Pony" in front of a black person?
The television show was still going on.
"Are you saying Victor is a psychologically twisted, mentally ill patient?" a woman's voice was heard as a side comment, with an incredulous tone.
