"Oh, my God, you actually pulled me straight out of the car? My throat, cough, my Adam's apple seems a bit displaced..."
Piotr ignored John.
He continued to mutter, "That car lost control, you saved me... although your method was a bit rough."
Thud.
John interrupted him with a stomp, pinning him to the road.
"Fack, you!" Piotr finally took a proper look at John, then fell into a sort of stupor, asking, "What do you want? Oh no, what do you want?"
He had no idea who this mercenary was.
John smirked, snapped his fingers, and pointed to the Silver Rider 577 parked nearby.
"Familiar?"
"Huh?"
Piotr turned his head to look, blinked his eyes, his knitted brows relaxed slightly, and he widened his eyes to take a closer look.
John recognized this idiot.
He was the son of an Eisenberg Company executive, a genuinely rich young man, yet he fancied street culture. Using his father's position, he acquired a key that could access Eisenberg Vehicle Company's backdoor.
