"What should we do now, Mr. Salamar? Do you know what the Ghost is planning?" a scavenger asked fearfully, looking toward the old man with a white beard and a weathered, rough face.
"Yes, Mr. Salamar, is the Ghost abandoning us? I feel uneasy. If the ship leaves now, our enemies will hunt us down in the open."
"Please do something, Mr. Salamar. Only you can go and talk to the Ghost. We don't want to lose our sanctuary!"
A man with a black beard and a jagged knife scar clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tsk. Look at this pitiful bunch. Scared out of their wits already. You weaklings should just die."
"Shut up, Iron Fang!" another person from Salamar's side shot back. "You don't have the right to mock us when you've been living like a rat yourself."
"Damn bastard, do you want to fight?" Iron Fang cursed, leveling a heavy-duty machine gun at the crowd.
Mr. Salamar calmly raised his hand, silencing the room.
