Once again, Pierre returned to Satan’s turf through the night, and he knew that he would come. In the dimly-lit room, only the light from the man’s cigar kept flickering. When Pierre walked in, Satan was seated on the couch, smoking his cigar idly.
“I didn’t think that we would meet again so soon,” Satan said, opening his arms as though he was welcoming an old friend.
Although they weren’t old friends, they had been acquainted for a long time. Pierre was responsible for weapons development in his base while Satan had been trying ways and means to acquire the weapons from his hands. For many years, they had been pitting their wits and courage against each other.
“Where’s my son?” Pierre asked straightaway. There was no point to have any excess chit-chat with him since they both knew what was on the other party’s mind.
“Your son is in my hands, but what do you have in exchange for him?” Satan asked with a sly smirk.
Seeing that there was another single-seater couch, Pierre plopped himself on it and asked instead, “What do you want in exchange for him?”
Even though they were old opponents, they could only guess what the other was doing.
“I heard that the artillery you’re developing, TR300, has just completed its upgrade to a new version. It has a further range and is more accurate, the most developed of its kind in the world right now.”
Pierre snorted. “Looks like you’re very well-informed. Why? You want it?”
Shaking his first finger, Satan said, “No one can be compared to General Fowler, am I right?”
So what Satan wanted was him.
What was the point of having the weapon which was always being updated? A better one would always emerge even after having a good one. But if Pierre pledged his alliance with him, it was as good as owning the entire research and development base, and he would forever be ahead of everyone else.
Narrowing his eyes at Satan, Pierre didn’t imagine that he was actually so ambitious. “Have you heard of a saying, Satan?”
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