Alpha Blade
I stood outside, under the harsh sun for about three minutes before I broke the lock of the door in annoyance and walked in.
The first thing I did was to chug down a beer and then get an ice bag to help my sore ankles.
Munching a bundle of crunchy biscuits, I waited patiently for Blade who still hadn’t replied my message.
After consuming six bottles of beer and countless snacks, I watched a black sedan drive in and park in the coffee shop’s driveway.
Blade came out with his usual all black clothing—a big black sweatshirt, a black baggy jean, black glasses, black face cap, black sneakers— and a revolver carefully tucked by his side.