Avery's eyes darted around as he swiftly counted the number of his followers that Doyle Sarkur had brought with him.
It was obvious that the man was not here for a pleasant chat, and Avery's instincts were telling him to get ready for a fight.
'Forty-seven, huh. That's a lot of guys.'
Between Avery's team that numbered fifteen in total, this left them outnumbered by more than three times.
Still, he was more confident in the quality of his group compared to the people Doyle had brought with him. Some of them honestly looked sickly with heavy dark circles under their eyes, and other discolorations under their skin that were telltale signs of heavy drug use and improper medical care.
With only a few glances, Avery was able to tell that Doyle and his gang were exactly the types of mercenaries that often gave the profession a bad name.
"You Avery Asteria?" Doyle said, his tone laced with ire.
