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"Mr. Devega, please let us out," Flatface said to Lupo. "We should have been in the office a long time ago." After waiting for the moment when both agents were at a sufficient distance from the door, Lupo pushed an entire bottle of champagne towards them. — And now, gentlemen. Drink!
But why? Flat face asked, confused. Lupo's face didn't change. He was silent and waited. Unable to get out, the agents had to give in to Lupo's request, quickly emptying the bottle. Their hungry bodies were weak, and soon both guys, heavily intoxicated, lay down on the floor.
How did you end up on my ship? Lupo asked, pulling the agents out one by one at the town square, where he took them by taxi.
"We, I, in general, these are us," the flat-faced man mumbled incoherently. Logic dictated that the Gentrians, assuming the guise of agents, turned off their consciousness, so that the guys did not even understand what had happened. The last of the Gentrians went to a black hole in the hope of catching Lupo and were frozen alive. All twenty spaceships turned into pieces of ice stone at the foot of the great cold star, which lay thousands of light-years from earth, in a split second. None of the Gentry had time to realize how it happened. This is the will of the black hole — when you exit it, you can find yourself anywhere, anytime.