The Refrigerator pulled out a silk handkerchief to wipe his prosthetic body—his arm had just generated cold air, causing a large amount of condensation to cover the alloy joints, soaking through the shirt cuff.
"Let's go, Mr. John."
He dressed neatly again, pulled out a handgun, and aimed at the remaining sex dolls in the room.
"The air in here makes me uncomfortable."
[Stop. (Optional)]
[Silence. (Optional)]
"Not necessary."
John took half a step forward, slightly blocking the Refrigerator's field of vision.
The Refrigerator spread his hands, showing a flamboyant expression.
"I'm surprised, but how are they different from those bodyguards in the hallway?"
"No difference."
John's head hurt when he heard the word "morality."
He frowned, unwilling to argue. "East Asian thugs and sex dolls can't kill me, so I can decide who's lucky."
"Ha, fine."
The Refrigerator put away his weapon and clapped his hands. "Ladies, do you want to die here or earn some tips?"
