The chairs and sofas here have been whitened by the years.
At the round table in the center of the bar, an old man with white hair and a centipede scar fiercely drew on his cigar, crushed the butt in the ashtray, then turned to look at the elder sitting not far away.
"Old Dog, why hasn't the boss arrived yet."
"He's been contacted, should be here any minute." said the elder hidden in the shadows, as he stood up, revealing a half-cyborg face, and raised his glass to the inquiring old man.
Just then, the bar door was pushed open, and the bell tinkled crisply against the door frame.
A group of elderly men in the bar turned their heads, only to see a figure over two meters tall stride in, his combat boots resonating on the wooden floor.
The newcomer took off his coat drenched with rainwater, revealing broad and solid muscles, looked up at his old friends gathered there, and grinned:
"I'm late."
The bar, quiet for a moment, immediately became boisterous.
