When the words stopped, a loud smack echoed first. This was instantly followed by two more smacks, and amid groans of pain, the goons trailing Murtaza went headfirst into the wall of the historical bazaar.
"What's all this whining about, punk! 'This happened when I was a kid,' 'My daddy beat me with a hose'—man up, boy!"
Toraman, one of the rare intellectuals produced by Central Anatolia, finally couldn't hold back anymore. He jumped right into the middle of the conversation, and apparently, the storm of action he created wasn't enough for the behemoth.
"Get up on your feet! You're a grown-ass man, why are you crying in the middle of a crowd?"
Grabbing our tank by the scruff of the neck like a stray kitten and shaking him a few times, Toraman finally realized he wasn't going to get anywhere. Sukrucuk wasn't with us mentally, and I didn't think he'd be coming back before this battle was over.
