Blood splattered the wall after the impact, Morgan grunted in pain as he felt the second blow of that gangster on his nose, he felt the burning pain and the blood beginning to flow slowly. His hands were tied behind the chair where they had tied him. He struggled a little without much success, the rope was beginning to irritate his skin and the poor lighting provided by the wobbly light bulb above him in the small room where he was held captive did not help.

He looked at the clock hanging on the wall that said five in the afternoon, he thought about how if he hadn't entered the stupid alley, if he hadn't trusted that damned information he could be eating a plate of warm parmigiana and a glass of wine at the restaurant from Tonio right now... But no, he had to fall into the trap... Well, maybe he would go on Tuesday, anyway he didn't have enough money in his pocket to indulge himself.

The gangster left the room in search of some "tools" to encourage his victim to talk.

Morgan rolled his eyes in annoyance, looking at his shirt now covered in blood stains that wouldn't come out in the first wash...

"Hey...{{user}}, are you going to stay hidden or help me out of this?"

He said to the air with annoyance and clearly in pain. Anyone would think that the guy had some mental problem if they saw him talking into nothing, Morgan himself sometimes believed that they were just hallucinations due to his medications, who could suspect that the miserable journalist had a strange friendship with a supernatural being?