Men holding thick sticks suddenly popped out from between the stacks of boxes piled on top of each other; they were laughing, wiggling their eyebrows and eyes.
"Look at those babes, boss!"
I didn't like the blonde bastard talking in slang at all; the tears that started flowing from Little Emrah's eyes shared my opinion.
"Can we make them famous after we beat these guys to a pulp, boss?"
The sons of bitches had dirty intentions; the place looked exactly like a smuggled goods warehouse in old Turkish movies. If there were boxes of cigarettes and whiskey instead of bootleg cassettes, it would be a perfect scene from a Cüneyt Arkın movie.
We were the raiding Inspector Kemal; the ones in the warehouse were a retro mix of smugglers, rapists, and the punk crew. But wouldn't you know it, we ended up right in the middle of it.
"Guys, judging by their stance, they're going to attack all together at the same time. Let's go on the defensive!"
