Old Chris rambled on endlessly.
He started with introductions but soon sank into his own memories, sitting in the corner, eyes glazed like an addict coming down from a high.
John was forced to listen to many legendary tales about Scab Dog, with details proving that Old Chris was indeed a street kid from the same period.
He also realized:
This insidious, flamboyant fat man spent seven long years tirelessly concocting stories about Scab Dog, not just to promote the warehouse. It was clear he genuinely revered the man.
So he didn't want to kill him.
Yet feared he might ruin his own business.
"Your troubles are over. I don't care how you deal with that pile of... legendary fragments."
"I understand."
Old Chris raised his hand to interrupt.
He stood up from the shadows, adding more darkness to the room, as if he was emerging from the shell of a weak young memory, even his tone becoming smooth and confident.
