"Boss, what should we do? Things don't look good. Should I prepare a retreat plan in case we lose?"
One of the gangsters, who seemed to have a good relationship with the boss, and was holding an assault rifle in his hand, watched as Myne and his gang beat the crap out of their comrades. Most of them had already started fleeing by pretending to be injured, letting Myne hit them, ensuring their boss couldn't fault them later. Unable to hold back, he leaned in and asked in a low voice.
"Shut up! What the hell are you talking about? Do you think we would lose to just two people, a dog and a flying baby whale, even with so many of us? What's the point of feeding them if they can't handle a handful of enemies despite having such a huge numerical advantage?"
The boss scolded his right-hand man, who not only wasn't fighting but was also trying to undermine his confidence. His words, surprisingly, proved effective, as the boss himself was starting to feel anxious.
