Upon hearing what Mr. Smith said, the commissioner jotted it down in his book once again and slowly looked up, saying, "If the Ninjas of assassination missions spit out blood right after they are captured, it means one thing: they are ready to protect their organization's secrets at any cost, even choosing death over surrender.""You are right, commissioner. I witnessed one of them wielding the deadly Japanese sword from the Samurai Temple. This is enough evidence that, in addition to their military training, they received additional training from the Samurai Temple. With this training, they can conceal information instead of surrendering. They have been indoctrinated differently, and for them, dying as a Ninja is preferable," Mr. Smith said.Being interested in what Mr. Smith had said, the commissioner looked up at him and asked, "The deadly sword of the Japanese? The Samurai Temple?""Yes, commissioner. The deadly Japanese sword is a blade that can only be earned from the Samurai Te
The click of the trigger made the gun sound like a hollow promise, indicating that the man had indeed shot from another empty space in the chamber."You are a really lucky woman, Mrs. Isabella Rosewood. Let's see if you are going to get lucky the third time. Be warned that this pistol now has one empty space and three loaded chambers. I am going to pull out the chamber right now and spin it so fast before I shoot the next one. Best of luck on being lucky once more."And just like the man said, he did, which made Isabella's fear grow taller, and she screamed out in confessional words."Yes, I spoke on the phone by the dusty door, but please do not pull the trigger. I am ready to tell the truth and nothing else but the truth.” Her teary voice became louder, like a wailing siren, as the man fashioned a silly face out of his frowning face immediately."Oh! Darling, did you just confess to speaking with someone on the phone? Let's see what happens if you have lied again perhaps and I had a
As both the commissioner and Ethan stepped out of the mansion, with Mr. Smith right behind Ethan, and into the compound, the commissioner turned to face Ethan again."I will be going now," he said. With a smile and a nod, Ethan responded without words.As soon as the commissioner left, Ethan began to hear noises from outside. He immediately turned his head toward Mr. Smith, who remained behind him. Mr. Smith understood Ethan's unspoken question, and, with the earpiece nestled in his ear, he said, "Guard 3, what is the commotion at the gate?""Mr. Smith, the press is here, and they are all requesting a session with Master Mark," Guard 3 replied.Hearing what Guard 3 said, Mr. Smith leaned forward and whispered a response to Ethan.At that moment, Ethan sighed deeply and nodded once more. Mr. Smith understood and relayed a message to Guard 3, "Alright, we are coming. Tell them to stop making a scene."When Ethan arrived at the gate with Mr. Smith behind him, all the guards at the gate i
When the man handed Isabella her phone, he ordered, "Speak!” At this moment, Isabella spoke out, her voice quivering with panic."Hey Alexa!""Hello, Isabella. What can I do for you today?” Alexa responded immediately.As Isabella heard Alexa’s voice, a level of solace fell upon her, and her fright was immediately gone. The man looked surprised by what he had just witnessed. Due to the nature of his business, he had never used a fancy phone before, only Java phones. Now, witnessing that Isabella was talking to her phone and that the phone responded back, he was enthusiastic to find out more.Seeing how interested he was, as it was boldly written on his face like an open book, Isabella continued talking."We had a conversation at the dusty door earlier. What was it all about?""That’s correct, Isabella. We had a conversation earlier. It was about the report of your mother's interview with the journalist. You asked me to find information about what the journalist asked her during the in
Hearing the silly question from the reporter, Ethan ignored it and instead pointed to another reporter, indicating that she should ask her question.The female reporter wore a tailored navy blue pantsuit that accentuated her professionalism and confidence. Her white blouse was neatly buttoned, and a silver pendant necklace added a touch of elegance to her outfit. She completed her attire with classic black pumps and held a leather notebook and pen in her hand, prepared to take notes on everything Ethan said.With a serious and determined expression, the female reporter asked, "Mr. Mark, there have been speculations circulating about whether your ex-wife might be involved in this incident. Can you provide any insights into this matter or clarify any misconceptions?"Ethan Mark, choosing his words carefully, responded, "I understand there might be questions surrounding this incident, but it's essential to remember that pointing fingers at anyone without concrete evidence can be harmful
"No! I think I will pass on this one. Its mouth is too big, with many holes," Isabella insisted. Hence, the man dropped the weapon just as Isabella wanted and turned to the other side of the room, picked up another pistol and he said,“This is a revolver, it is immediately identifiable as the wheelgun. Invented in the 19th century, it was designed by Multi-Load. The cylindrical chambers you see in the middle of this beauty hold anywhere from five to eight rounds. The cylinder rotates every time the trigger is pressed. A complete badass, if you ask me. And with this firearm, you are unstoppable. If Ethan Mark takes a hit from this, his bones will be broken into too many pieces, and his corpse will not be identified by the forensic experts. Take it!""Nah! I'd pass. I don't want a gun from the 19th century," Isabella insisted."What a pity. You just missed a badass weapon, but anyway, luckily you have me, and there is no other dealer with great guns like me."The man picked another pist
As soon as the call dropped, Mr. Smith, bowing at Ethan's voice immediately, said, "Master, it's the leader of those who attacked earlier, and he will come back to attack again. But do not worry; we will be ready for them when they come."Ethan, nodding in agreement with Mr. Smith, said, "Of course, we already know they will come back until they get what they want. However, unfortunately, what they want is not what I can give them. Forward the number and the details of the call to the commissioner. Let him also be aware of what is about to happen.""Master Mark, the call was from a private number and cannot be traced, nor can it be forwarded. I can only tell the commissioner the details of the call by word of mouth."Hearing this, Ethan nodded again, then took a sigh before he said, "It was expected. I should get my daughter to safety first." He took his seat on one of the plush sofas in his grand living room and hence said once again, "Tell guard 3 to bring my daughter to me."As Eth
As soon as Isabella emerged from the dusty door building, she hurried in her brisk steps towards the car park where her vehicle was stationed, facing it like a magnet to metal. Upon reaching the car park, Isabella seamlessly slid into her luxurious car, as if it were a glove fitting her hand perfectly. Her thoughts returned to what she had just encountered in the dusty door building, and a quick glance at her left wrist made her sigh like a weary traveler who had taken a wrong turn on her journey.Without uttering a word, she picked up her fancy bag, which she had gently placed on the car's front seat the moment she got in, and retrieved her newly acquired pistol as smoothly as a magician conjuring a hidden trick.Hence, she heaved out a sigh once more, and her mind traveled back to about thirty minutes earlier, when she was in a dire situation, only to acquire this weapon. In this vein, she muttered this to herself, like a contemplative philosopher pondering the mysteries of the univ
Pushing her back into her prison cell like a reluctant pawn being returned to its square on a chessboard, Isabella fell on the prison floor, resembling a fragile autumn leaf descending with a surrender to the inevitable embrace of the cold, hard ground. No matter how her voice had risen in anger towards her mother in the meeting room, she knew very well that she wanted to read the contents of the letter in the envelope and discover the help Ethan Mark had promised her. "Would he file for my release?" "Has he bought me a home as a sign of my forgiveness?" "Would he take me back as his wife?" Different questions rushed through her mind like a tumultuous river, each query cascading over the other. As she held the envelope in her hand, she sat at the corner of her cell and stared at it much more closely. In this way, she saw that the surface of the envelope bore a faint trace of handling, like a blank canvas marked only by the weight of the untold. She also observed the edges, crisp
As Isabella saw her mother through the glass panel, her eyes first peered at her face, which was fresh and glowing like a sun-kissing morning, radiating warmth and vitality. Similarly, she observed her hair, cascading strands of silk, flowing effortlessly, resembling a gentle waterfall gracing a serene landscape.But if that were all, it would be a lie. She also noticed her dress, which was as beautiful as a field of blooming flowers, each petal a vibrant hue, creating a tapestry of elegance. Likewise, her neck, ears, and wrists were adorned with jewelry, resembling constellations adorning the night sky, each piece a sparkling star in the galaxy of her elegance.Taking in this perfect image of her mother, the thought immediately struck Isabella that her mother's current appearance was the complete inverse of hers—a mess in a uniform and in a confined space, akin to a wildflower struggling to bloom in a cramped garden bed."Been a while," Victoria Sinclair said again, immediately as Is
Like a fish forced to live in the desert for the crime she had committed, Isabella's prison days wove a bleak tapestry of monotony and despair. The cold, unforgiving reality of prison life left her yearning for freedom, with each passing moment feeling like an eternity. The absence of familiar faces and the pervasive loneliness created a profound sense of desolation that permeated every aspect of her existence.Most especially, the daily beatings from her tormentor, Elara Whitewind, resembled an unrelenting storm, leaving Isabella's spirit battered and broken, akin to a shipwreck in the tempest of her despair. This was the reason she wished she had never set foot in the prison yard, mess hall, or communal bathroom ever again.However, whether she wished to visit those places or not, prison protocol had to be followed, leaving her no choice but to be present even in the devil's face if the protocol demanded it.In the dimly lit mess hall, clattering trays and hushed conversations fille
Ethan said nothing in response to Mr. Alexander's words. Instead, as if he hadn't heard him, he seized a seat on the other side of the table and crossed his left leg over his right.Yet, this did not mean he spoke at this moment. The only sound was the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table, as if he were playing an invisible piano.In this manner, Ethan Mark exuded authority. Gazing calmly from Mr. Alexander's feet to the tangled mess of hair atop his head, he looked at him. With a serenity akin to the gentle flow of the Nile and a voice as soft as a satisfied dove contemplating a defeated jungle lion, he suddenly spoke."Kneel and apologize."Upon hearing these words, Mr. Alexander's eyes widened in shock. He never anticipated a day when he would be asked to kneel and beg for mercy, especially from the person he had always regarded as a poor bastard.Like an enslaved cat in the presence of a lion, Mr. Alexander fell to his knees as Ethan Mark instructed, pleading, "I was a ter
Seeing how bold, tall, and dangerous this prisoner appeared and observing his audacious manner of poking at him was akin to witnessing a prowling lion, confident in its dominance, taunting its prey before the impending strike. Mr. Alexander then immediately turned his back, attempting to escape from this menacing part of the communal bathroom like a startled deer seeking refuge from the looming threat in the dark forest. "I have to run," he muttered in total fright, his voice a tremor in the echoing silence, like a desperate whisper carried away by the chilling wind of impending danger. However, if his intention was for success, it was a futile hope. "And where do you think you are running to, huh?" Another prisoner said this behind him and pushed him forward like a pawn on the unforgiving chessboard of the prison's power dynamics. As Mr. Alexander was pushed forward, he witnessed how the older prisoners immediately surrounded him. He also noticed how they revealed smirks on their c
After speaking for hours, the man who had conversed with him advised Mr. Alexander to get some sleep. He emphasized the importance of having alert eyes to observe any unfortunate events that might occur in the morning. And with that, Mr. Alexander retreated to the corner of his cell once again, burying his head in his ankle like a ship seeking refuge in the harbor of solitude, sheltering itself from the tempest of the prison's harsh reality. He sat on the ground, succumbing to a haunted sleep. *** The next morning revealed Mr. Alexander as a mere specter of resilience, marked by the weariness of a night spent in the clutches of haunted dreams, like a tattered flag fluttering weakly after enduring the relentless storm of a sleepless night. His eyes, burdened with unrest, betrayed the toll of his surroundings. Disheveled strands of hair clung to his forehead, bearing witness to the restless hours entangled in unsettling dreams. As he rose from the dark corner of his cell, his eyes fir
"Long story, man," the man answered. However, if this was all he said, it was a lie. He began to unravel his own narrative, detailing how his legs became amputated and one of his hands irreparably broken and dislocated."You see, I entered this prison as a healthy man. My crimes weren't that significant. I robbed a bank because I couldn't bear to watch my daughter suffer. We hadn't eaten for days, and robbing the bank seemed like my only option." He took a deep sigh and continued talking."Yes, you guessed right. The mission was unsuccessful, and before I knew it, I was completely surrounded by the police. I had no guns, only a knife and a dagger. I never headed to the vault but collected pieces from each person I encountered in the bank. I just wanted to be able to feed my daughter and move on with life the next day.""While being surrounded, there was nothing more I could do than raise my hands in the air and let the police apprehend me. God knows it was the biggest mistake I ever m
Arriving at the prison, Mr. Alexander saw how the prison walls were imposing, resembling a fortress of despair that stood as a testament to the shadows of society. Certainly, he shook his head in regret, as he had never been to a place this horrible before.He observed cold steel bars, like sentinels of incarceration, confining notorious men whose stories were etched in the graffiti of hardened souls. Similarly, he noticed how the air hung heavy with the weight of regret, whispers of past misdeeds echoing through the dimly lit corridors.The sounds of his handcuffs tucked in chains down to his ankle made obvious sounds as he was escorted through the corridor harboring the cells of different notorious men by two prison officers whose faces lacked smiles, as if they hadn't smiled for many notorious years. Hence, he saw individuals behind these cells harboring untold secrets with their unappealing faces and frightful behaviors.Upon witnessing him and the others being escorted to their r
“Detective Sharon, we would love to ask you a few questions if you do not mind. We are sure this would help the public understand more of what is going on,” one reporter said immediately. “Alright, please go ahead. If this would help the general public understand more of what is going on, “Thank you, Detective Sharon. Now that Mr. Alexander, Mr. X, and Attorney Hughes have been sentenced to lengthy prison terms, and Attorney Reynolds is awaiting the outcome of his investigation before he is sentenced, do you think that would be the end of this deadly organization?” “Yes, Mr. X. Mr. Alexander Rosewood and Attorney Hughes have been sentenced to prison for a very long term, and if care is not taken, for life imprisonment. However, this is not the end of the organization. As you might already know, the deadly organization is a large organization that has penetrated every sector, which could even include the police, the prison officers, the legal system, and many more, which could even i