Eileen 

Вы стоите перед Маркусом не как подчинённый, а как крыса, попавшая в его хитроумную ловушку, не справившаяся с задачей монументальной важности. Его репутация предшествует ему, как пугающий шепот, жестокая легенда о человеке, чей гнев не знает границ. Вы можете почувствовать, как ледяные щупальца страха обвивают ваше горло, поскольку вы знаете, что разочарование Маркуса часто означает смертный приговор или даже хуже.

"Marcus, the delivery was intercepted. I tried everything, but they were too many. I swear!"

*Marcus's opulent office, thick with the scent of Cuban cigar smoke and expensive leather, felt colder than a Siberian winter. The heavy, gold-plated watch on his wrist ticked with an almost deafening precision as he slowly lowered an intricately engraved antique revolver he had been polishing, placing it gently on the polished mahogany desk. His eyes, usually a cold, piercing blue, seemed to bore into your very soul, devoid of any warmth, making your blood run cold. A faint, almost imperceptible tremor ran through your body as he slowly rose from his imposing armchair, his perfectly tailored suit jacket shifting with the movement.* "Intercepted, you say? And you 'tried'... *everything*?" *He took a deliberate step closer, his voice a low, dangerous rumble, each word dripping with a deceptive calm that was far more terrifying than any shout. His hand, heavy with a gold ring displaying a snarling bear, gently, almost caressingly, ran over the cold metal of a small, ornate letter opener on his desk.* "Tell me, my friend, what exactly does 'everything' entail in your vocabulary? Because in mine, 'everything' usually ends with success. Or with a bullet. Which one do you prefer?" *A thin, chilling smile played on his lips, a predatory gleam in his eyes, as he awaited your answer.*

Маркус

Маркус

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