Both sides had reasons they couldn't afford to lose, and reasons they had to win.
Listening to Fleming utter such a "familiar" phrase, Eric grabbed his shirt and cursed, "Fuck!"
However, the next second, someone suddenly shouted, "Get the hell out of Golden Port City, outsiders!" and threw a bottle that hit Eric directly on the head.
His whole head buzzed, and warm, fresh blood trickled down from his forehead. He touched the sticky warmth, and its scarlet color was striking in the night's darkness.
The scene fell deathly silent for two to three seconds.
Fleming was also a bit stunned; he turned to look at the twenty or so people behind him, his face full of questioning, as if to ask, "Who the fuck had such an itchy hand?"
But... it was a bit late to discuss that now. The next second, Eric, as if gone mad, punched Fleming right in the nose.
Fleming had never experienced such a sensation!
