The sound of something heavy hitting the ground caused the two of them to pause and turn to look at the source of sound that came from behind them. Startled, the two women glanced at the source of sound and were stunned when they saw rough-looking men armed with steep pipes and thick harbour ropes along with heavy wrenches. At their centre sat Old Scar, lounging lazily on a discarded wooden crate.
His face was crossed by a jagged, thick scar that ran from his left eye down to his jawline—a souvenir from thirty years of ruling the local docks with brute force and illegal extortion.
