The thugs laughed in that grating, hyena-like way that made every decent soul on the street want to cover their ears. Their leader pointed a blackened dagger toward the mercenaries and sneered.
"Best look the other way, friend. Don't poke your nose where it don't belong," he warned, spinning the dagger lazily in his hand. "You really wanna get on his bad side? One word from him and your whole little band will vanish. Poof." He snapped his fingers dramatically.
The spear head leader, a tall, broad man with streaks of silver in his hair and a scarred cheek, didn't even flinch. "Destroy our group? Heh. You talk like a rat bragging about its master," he retorted, resting his hand casually on the hilt of his spear. "You think power gives you the right to bully a woman because she didn't move fast enough for you?"
The thugs only grinned wider.
"Who told her to be slow?" the spiky one said mockingly. "This is our street. You crawl, you get stepped on."
