The Enigmatic Son-in-law

Voice from hell

"Fire!" the lead guard shouted in fear, pulling the trigger of his Glock 17.

Without waiting for further instruction, the other guards immediately opened fire, the air filling with the deafening sound of gunfire. Bullets rained down on the spot where Max had been standing—but suddenly, he was gone.

The guards stopped shooting, stunned. They exchanged confused glances, their hearts pounding. "Where did he go?" one of them muttered, his voice barely audible over the ringing in their ears from the gunshots. They frantically scanned the room, but there was no sign of Max. It was as if he had vanished into thin air.

Just as they began to relax, thinking maybe they'd scared him off, Max reappeared right in front of them without warning, moving so fast that they could barely register his presence.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Max said calmly, his voice carrying an eerie nonchalance. Before any of them could react, he started handing out casual, almost leisurely, slaps—one for each of them.

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