Charlie's face transformed, becoming a picture of fierce determination. His eyes burned with a deadly fire that sent shivers down the black man's spine.
In that moment, all doubt vanished. The man understood Charlie's ultimatum crystal clear. Defying it meant signing his own death warrant. But the idea of swallowing bullets gave him the creeps. It wasn't just about gulping them down, getting them out afterward was a whole different ball game.
He briefly wondered if dropping the name of the Burning Angels might rattle Charlie once more. Like some Taoist priests, maybe they could play mind games, a battle of wills. If Charlie felt satisfied, maybe they could skip the fight and have a drink together. It wasn't unusual, whether in China or the States. The key was knowing when to call it quits.
Yet, when he tried to voice these thoughts, he stumbled. Charlie's punches still smarted, and begging wouldn't do any good. If he kept asking for peace, he'd only get more beatings.
Just when he teetered on the brink of indecision, a loyal friend by his side took the leap.
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