Not cool!

Brandon stood in the middle of a large hall and began to boil inside from the long wait.

"Useless trash!" - He spat, kicking one of the last dead shifters with his boot, who managed to reach the end of the maze. - "Who trained them at all? They are absolutely useless! Clark, are any of yours among these?"

A tall, dark-skinned man, a couple of meters away from him, did not even look around and shook his head, spitting on the floor.

"My guys know pretty well their place. They are at least smart enough to understand who the boss. This one and those three by the wall from Pavlov's squad. This damned hobo has long been behaving like a loner. Today did not come, because surely lying drunk somewhere in the alley." - He grumbled with disdain, gazing dismissively at the faces of the dead shifters on the ground.