"Take us there and get us the Porsche 911 keys, and we'll let you go," Allen Zhang said.
"I can't betray..."
Before the tattooed guy could finish speaking, Allen Zhang walked over, grabbed his head, and shoved him against the wall with his back to him, pulling down his pants, ready to teach him a painful lesson with a wine bottle in hand.
"I'm not f***ing negotiating with you, got it?" threatened Allen Zhang, "One more word from you, and I promise it'll become one with you!"
"Ok ok! Boss! Please don't do this! I was wrong! I'll take you there to get the keys right now!"
Feeling the cold touch of the angular wine bottle on his butt, the tattooed guy panicked instantly and gave in decisively.
If that thing gets up there, he's doomed. It's not just about not getting out of bed for three days; he'd be ruined for life, not even needing enemas anymore, and wouldn't even make a sound when farting.
