[17] a

A man walked confidently, surrounded by bowed heads as he passed rows of men dressed in all-black suits, including himself. He wore a black blazer, complete with a cane as his walking aid, and, of course, a cigar always faithfully by his side.

Sitting with a rather dramatic gesture, he filled the spacious but dimly lit room with his intimidating presence. Smoke billowed from behind the cigar he had just taken a puff from. He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the nicotine calming him. In that moment, he calculated what his men would carry out today.

There could be no room for mistakes.

He had no desire to fail again.

Nor did he want to find himself in a situation where he had to perform another daring act to breathe the air of freedom.

Everything had to be obliterated without mercy, especially when he glanced down at his feet, which would forever be bound in chains until he met his Maker. The embers of vengeance inside him flared up again.

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