"Get your boss out here!" The glass at the entrance had shattered to pieces, and the door was crowded with people dressed in black.
All were unfamiliar faces.
Felix Scott thought and thought, yet couldn't recall when he had offended them.
The leader was a man with a crew cut, wearing a hollow black suit with a gold chain around his neck. He gripped the collar of the security guard at the entrance tightly: "I said get your boss out here! Understand? You watchdog!"
The guard's legs were weak, trembling, unable to speak a coherent word.
Felix Scott stepped out of his office, wearing a gray suit, with a small face and regular features, his eyes sharp.
"Is there something you need from me?"
"Oh, so you're Felix Scott?" The crew cut man chuckled twice, touching the tip of his nose: "Will you come with us now, or do we have to smash this place before you agree to go?"
Taylor stood behind him, speaking in a faint voice: "You can't go, Mr. Scott, they're not good people."
