Marcus, as cool and collected as a seasoned professional, offered a polite nod. "Nice doing business with you," he said, his words carrying the practiced tone of a man who'd been here before. Rising from the table, he turned on his heel, his footsteps silent as he navigated the maze of tables and chairs. He knew that the man, already scheming, would dispatch his men to track him down. Slipping into the bathroom, Marcus wasted no time in removing his mask and jacket, his transformation complete in mere moments.The man, a wolfish grin curling his lips, wasted no time in making a call to one of his men who was sitting across him. “He made his way towards the bathroom.” "Yes, boss," he murmured into the phone, his voice low and conspiratorial. His men stood up, straightened his suit and put on his sunglasses, knowing the plan well. He would find Marcus, and when they did, they would take the money and end his life. It was a brutal business they were in, but one they understood well.
On the television, the story of Johnson played out in vivid detail. There he was, kneeling in front of a woman, his eyes brimming with tears as he pleaded with her for sexual intimacy. The news story then shifted, revealing a second scene: Johnson, in a more sinister light, attempting to rape Sandra. The stark contrast between the two scenarios was starkly apparent, with the first scene showcasing a pitiful Johnson, and the second depicting him as a dangerous predator. The news anchors spoke in somber tones, discussing the implications of Johnson's actions and the serious consequences he would face for his crimes.Marcus let loose a chilling laugh, his dark amusement echoing through the room. This was only the start of Johnson’s punishment, he mused, reveling in his vengeance. Picking up his phone, Marcus casually transferred a whopping fifty million dollars to Katherine. In an instant, the notification lit up Katherine’s screen, the amount of the transfer emblazoned across the disp
The escape plan was forming in Johnson’s head, his eyes darting around the room before landing on the window. But before he could take a single step towards it, the police breached the room with guns drawn. “Hands up!” the lead officer ordered, his pistol aimed directly at Johnson’s skull. With an audible hiss, Johnson raised his hands in the air, slowly pivoting to face the sea of uniforms that now surrounded him.“What’s my fucking offense?” Johnson demanded, his fury palpable in the air. The police, their faces stony, parted ways as Marcus strode into the room, his lips curling into a self-satisfied smirk.“You?” Johnson barked, his eyes widening in surprise. Marcus chuckled, his step leisurely as he approached the enraged Johnson. Leaning in close, he whispered, “I had already forgiven you. You’d been all but forgotten until you crossed my path again.”Johnson, his rage simmering just beneath the surface, directed his attention away from Marcus and barked, “I want to know my of
Marcus was hauled to the man's feet, the distance between them vanishing as the man lowered himself to meet Marcus at eye level. A cloud of smoke billowed from the man's mouth, engulfing Marcus in a suffocating haze. The crowd erupted in laughter, relishing the display of power and degradation. As Marcus coughed and sputtered, the man clapped his hands. In that moment, the door to the room opened, revealing Don—a sight that failed to surprise Marcus.The man's gaze slid to Don, the question heavy in the air: "Is this the one who filed a case against my son?" "Yes, sir," Don replied, his eyes averted. The man reacted with a swift, stinging slap to Marcus' cheek, leaving a burning red mark. He held Marcus' gaze, the force of his words amplified by their proximity: "Drop the case." Marcus' initial reaction to the ultimatum was a burst of laughter, his defiance unyielding in the face of the man's intimidation tactics.A seething rage burned in the man's eyes as Marcus' laughter rang o
As the men surrendered, Kathrine sprinted towards Marcus' prone form, sinking to her knees beside him. "Boss," she murmured, her voice thick with concern as she reached out to steady him.A small team of soldiers joined her, swiftly lifting Marcus from the ground and carrying him away. From a distance, Kathrine noticed Marcus' phone, abandoned on the floor. In a swift move, she dashed across the room, snatching up the device and holding it close to her chest, a silent promise to destroy this morons.With a cold efficiency, the general corralled the men, transporting them to a hidden compound that only Marcus had the power to unlock. Meanwhile, Kathrine hastened Marcus' journey to the covert facility, a place of healing and sanctuary reserved for only the highest-ranking members of their organization.The medical staff swung into action, tending to Marcus' injuries with the urgency of a battlefield medic. Kathrine lingered in the shadows, a silent sentinel, her heart weighed with worr
"Boss, you need to rest," Kathrine said, bowing her head. Marcus shook his head."If I sleep, they'll be free. I need to cut their wings now," he said. The others nodded.Marcus looked at General, who had been silent. "Get the weapons ready for me," he commanded.General bowed down. "Yes, Lord," he said and left the room.Only Kathrine and Marcus remained. Marcus gently removed the IV from his hand. "I don't need this," Marcus muttered and rose, swaying on his feet. Kathrine rushed to support him but he waved her off. "Leave me. I want to feel every damn pain," he groaned, his eyes hard and determined. Kathrine took a step back, her hands folded at her front, respecting his wishes.Kathrine knew that the perpetrators would pay for their actions. Marcus had endured too much to allow them to escape justice. As the nurse entered and saw Marcus standing, she froze, her mouth agape. "God of Vengeance, you should be resting," she whispered, her voice quivering.Marcus's eyes narrowed. "
Kathrine entered with a steaming pot, her footsteps hushed against the stone floor. Placing it on the table, she withdrew, eyes downcast. Marcus's smile, a twisted masterpiece, gleamed in the dim light."Chill, dude," he mocked, his tone dripping with derision. The prisoner shivered, his eyes darting to the water, his mind racing with the possibilities of what it could mean.Marcus plucked a spoon from the pot, the utensil clinking against the metal. Steam snaked upwards, enveloping his face in an ethereal mist."Very hot," Marcus murmured, his tongue wetting his lips in anticipation. With a ruthless efficiency, he hoisted the prisoner to his feet, the terrified man's pleas falling on deaf ears. In a swift, brutal motion, Marcus plunged the victim's face into the boiling water. The man's screams erupted, the sound echoing off the walls, a visceral symphony of pain. A sadistic grin contorted Marcus's face as the prisoner writhed, his body thrashing in a futile attempt to escape.With
Marcus turned his back on Kathrine, his footsteps carrying him away from the dimly lit room. In his room, he donned a hoodie, its fabric a shroud of darkness. With practiced efficiency, he drew the hood over his face, a shield against prying eyes.“This is just the beginning,” he murmured to himself, his breath a mist in the air. He pocketed his keys, his fingers curling around the cold metal. He got into his car and drove a short-distance away from the fleeing prisoner, who was sprinting towards the club with labored breath and pounding footsteps echoing through the night air. The prisoner's desperate gaze darted around the dark streets as he raced to brief his master on the latest developments and devise a plan. Unbeknownst to the prisoner, Marcus was tailing him, keeping a discreet distance as he followed him to his destination, his eyes fixed intently on the figure ahead.Marcus parked his car and continued following the prisoner on foot, keeping a safe distance behind him. Whe