Zorro's howls of agony emanated from inside, with a powerful throw shattering hero bones, the scalpel soaked with Hero's Tears.
Assassin? Even the toughest assassin could be rendered helpless under anesthesia, laid upon the surgical bed at the mercy of others.
"Who's your boss? I don't even know you," Allen Zhang scoffed.
"My mask is still in your possession. I need money now. I can sell it to you for 200,000 dollars," Zorro said in a rush. "You can flip it for a profit of 300,000 dollars. It's a good deal."
"This is MY mask!!"
"You got any proof it's yours?" Allen Zhang grumbled discontentedly. "This is nonsense! If I slaughter you, that money's mine anyway, right? Since you can't cough up a single cent, pay your bills with your organs."
"WTF..."
Numb from the shock, Zorro hastily apologized: "I was wrong! I shouldn't have done that to you! Please, save me! They're really going to operate on me! Medical bills of 75,000 dollars is just too expensive. I can't afford it!"
