viii.

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chapter eight.
↳ ੈ‧₊˚ ┊͙red in the city.

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Soon after, I was surrounded from all sides by men and women who circled me from afar, enclosing me in the vast space I was in and blocking all exits.

The people were dressed all in black and pointed their guns at me as if I was a major threat, which I could understand. They were in combat poses, pointing handguns and rifles at me—ready to fire at any time. There were at least 36 of them in the room with me, and there were very likely others around.

"You broke my nose." A deep voice rang out from the direction where I had torn down the various walls. I turned to see the red-head and archer make way for director Fury, who stepped by them and merely stood a foot in front of them—obviously in a position of power.

"I was actually hoping I would break through your skull." In response to his statement, I made a remark to him.

He was holding his nose with his left hand as it bled, while with his right hand, he drew his handgun from its holster and pointed it at me. "You're completely surrounded and outnumbered. Give it up." He spoke up, his voice a little muffled as his hand gripped his nose tightly to stop the blood from getting any worse.

I grinned grimly in response to his statement, shaking my head from left to right and tearing my gaze away from the man—to the people clothed in all black who kept their guns aimed at me. "You see, that's where you're wrong." From my position on all fours in the middle of the enormous room, I returned his stare, peering deep into his eyes.

"I'm not just one person—I'm many." I said, which made the eye-patched man's brows furrow in perplexity. "The lives I've taken—the people I've killed—their deaths have enhanced my power. You could say their strength became a part of me in certain ways." I continued, finding the strength to lift one leg and place my foot flat against the ground while the other stayed on my knee.

"Remember that there is always strength in numbers, even if they are small and have little strength." As many were wide-eyed, I said, now completely standing up. "Do you know how many lives I've taken, director?" With a dead look in my eyes, I asked Fury.

"Three million, forty-eight thousand, nine hundred and eleven." As tension rose throughout the room, I answered my own question. "Or maybe that's his kill count. I'm not sure. I've completely lost track." As I observed as several people became wide-eyed and virtually reeked of dread, I cocked my head with a smirk on my face.

𝙬𝙞𝙙𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧, 𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘢 𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘧𝘧  ¹Where stories live. Discover now