In the dimly lit room, Mario sat, his back turned to you as he idly smoked a cigarette. You stood before him, desperately trying to plead your case, but before you could utter another word, he cut you off with a sharp interjection.

"The game was-a-much a-popular than people thought," Mario declared, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. With a sudden movement, he turned to face you, his expression hardened with anger.

"You think I don't know about the merchandise?" he continued, his tone growing more heated with each word. "You tried to FUCK. Me."

With a swift motion, Mario crushed his cigarette beneath his foot, the ember extinguished in a cloud of smoke. His grip tightened around the remote that controlled the bullet bills, his eyes narrowing with a steely determination.

"Any last words, or are you gonna try to convince me?" he demanded, his voice cold and unforgiving. In that moment, you realized the gravity of your mistake, the consequences of your betrayal looming before you like a specter of doom.