Dia: A Lover's Revenge

The duel: Rowe and Dre

   One of Rowe's companies. 

"Morning, Sir."

"Morning, Sir."

"Morning, Sir."

"Morning, Sir."

"Morning, Sir."

Came the greeting from the right and left angles of the company hall to Rowe in his Mafia attire, black T-shirt with a skull inscribed in it, a blue jacket, baggy black bean and a pair of white sneakers. He had himself supported with a walking stick made from bones. A ceramic you might want to say. 

All he did to the greetings was waved his old but bloody left hand. His right hand was entirely for something different. Such thing you wouldn't want to think of. Well, not all unthinkable things are cruel. 

"Morning!"

He finally bit the word in a growl, glaring at the set of ladies who had just greeted after the spree of pleasantries. 

The ladies in fear tucked their heads into their works, cowering as they typed into the system, their fingers trembling. They knew too well never to