Arslan, his grip tightening on his weapon, stared at Vincent, his silence a powerful statement. Vincent, seemingly unfazed, flipped through the small file he had Arslan, before he tried to give it to him as there was nothing for him to use. "So, you're one of those Ghosts, huh? The ones who slip through the cracks, untraceable, with no criminal record, yet deadly," he said, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
Arslan, unmoved by the comments, ignored the extended file. He knew Vincent's game, the calculated moves, the feigned camaraderie that he was trying to build. He had faced men like him before, men who underestimated him over and over.
"I ain't calling myself anything," Arslan replied, his voice hard and cold. "Just tell me what the fuck you want from me."
