"Bang!"
The enamel mug in White Bear's hand finally dropped to the ground, spilling the cheap liquor all over.
His rugged face was full of bewilderment and incomprehension, as if he had heard the most absurd command in the world.
"Leave? Boss! You're telling us to leave?"
White Bear's voice sounded as though he had been greatly offended, his massive frame trembling slightly from agitation.
"Take the money and go to fuckin' beaches to sunbathe? Staring at those white creamy thighs? And then what? Wait to be dragged out of bed one day and slaughtered like pigs? Or wait for those old enemies to sniff their way to our door? Boss! What are we? We're wolves! We're hyenas! Without this cesspool, without guns and blood, we're fucking nothing! Our bones would rot on those soft beaches!"
He suddenly pointed at the dark night sky outside the warehouse, "My home is here! Next to these iron turtles! In the direction where the cannon is pointing!"
"White Bear is right!"
