Inside a villa located in the core of Block 17, a blond middle-aged man paced angrily across the living room while shouting at the people standing in front of him. His face was red with fury, and the veins in his neck bulged as he barked orders.
"Damn it! What the hell are you idiots doing?" he roared. "You can't even capture two teenagers?"
One of the men hurriedly stepped forward to defend himself, clearly terrified of the consequences. "Boss, those two kids are weird. The girl can release red energy from her hands, and the boy moves so fast we can't even see him clearly. And you told us we had to capture them alive. We couldn't just shoot them."
Hearing the explanation, the blond man frowned deeply. The mission he received had been extremely simple on paper: capture Wanda and Pietro alive and bring them in.
He had never been told the exact reason for the mission, but that didn't matter to him. His job was simply to complete whatever task the organization assigned.
Before the operation began, he had personally reviewed the information about the targets. According to all the files, the two were nothing more than ordinary high school students with no special background.
Still, he had chosen to be cautious.
To guarantee success, he had sent three elite teams under his command to carry out the operation. With that kind of manpower and equipment, capturing two teenagers should have been effortless.
Yet somehow the mission had still failed.
When he thought about what might happen after reporting this failure, the blond man felt a chill run down his spine. His face twisted into a grim expression as anger and fear mixed together.
"Listen carefully," he snarled. "Send out every elite squad we have. I don't care what methods you use. Before nine o'clock tonight, I want those two kids brought to me."
His eyes swept across the room like blades.
"If you fail again, I'll personally throw every one of you into the Atlantic Ocean and let the sharks eat what's left."
"Elite squads?" a voice suddenly interrupted from outside the room. "If you're talking about the heavily armed gangsters outside with military-grade gear, I'm afraid they won't be deploying anytime soon."
The voice was calm and casual, as if commenting on the weather.
The door slowly opened, and Ethan Blake stepped inside.
The blond man spun around immediately, his expression turning furious again. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped. "Don't you know you can't enter this place without my permission? Get out!"
Ethan raised an eyebrow slightly. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"
"What did you say?" the blond man asked impatiently. Then he squinted suspiciously. "And whose subordinate are you? Who let you walk in here acting so disrespectfully?"
He had been so focused on yelling earlier that he hadn't even paid attention to the stranger's words.
Ethan sighed faintly and shrugged.
"Alright. Let me introduce myself properly first," he said.
"My name is Ethan Blake. I'm the guardian of the two teenagers you just ordered your men to capture."
His gaze sharpened as he looked directly at the blond man.
"I've answered your question, so now it's your turn. Why did you attack Wanda and Pietro?"
Ethan paused for a moment before adding another possibility.
"Or should I ask it differently? Who exactly ordered you to do it?"
Although Ethan held a position as a senior investigator within the FBI's New York branch, he had never involved himself in gang conflicts. It was impossible for him to have provoked a group he had never even heard of before.
The moment the blond man heard Ethan's introduction, his expression changed drastically.
Without even a second of hesitation, he shouted an order.
"Kill him."
The armed men surrounding him were the same group who had previously attempted to capture Wanda and Pietro. They were still carrying their weapons and standing ready.
The instant the command was given, more than a dozen M4 rifles snapped up and aimed directly at Ethan.
The sound of gunfire erupted almost simultaneously.
Triggers were pulled in rapid succession, and a storm of bullets poured toward Ethan from every direction.
The shooters emptied their magazines within seconds. When the gunfire finally stopped, the room fell silent except for the faint echo of the shots.
Then the men saw what stood before them.
Ethan remained completely unharmed.
Even stranger, every bullet that had been fired at him was suspended in midair only inches from his body. They floated there motionless, as if frozen in time.
The gang members stared at the impossible sight with widening eyes.
Most of them had never experienced real combat before. Facing something this bizarre shattered whatever courage they had left.
Several men instinctively began backing away.
Unfortunately for them, it was already too late.
"Finished?" Ethan asked calmly. "Good. Now it's my turn."
As his voice faded, the bullets that had been suspended in the air suddenly shot backward.
They returned along their original paths with terrifying speed.
More than a dozen screams erupted simultaneously.
When the echoes faded, silence returned to the villa once again.
Aside from Ethan, only the blond middle-aged man remained alive.
The bodies of the other men lay scattered across the floor. These had been the elite subordinates he relied on most, and now every single one of them was dead.
The blond man understood instantly that the Glock pistol tucked inside his jacket wouldn't do anything against someone like Ethan.
Without thinking further, he turned around and ran.
"You decided to run now?" Ethan said calmly. "Don't you think that's a little late?"
The next second, the fleeing man's legs suddenly snapped together as if bound by invisible chains. His body pitched forward uncontrollably, and he crashed face-first onto the floor like a clumsy dog.
Ethan raised a hand slightly.
Invisible force lifted the man off the ground and dragged him back until he stopped directly in front of Ethan.
"Let's try this again," Ethan said.
"Why did you attack Wanda and Pietro? And who is really behind this operation?"
His voice was steady and cold.
"Answer honestly, and I might spare your life."
Now that escape was impossible, the blond man no longer looked frightened.
Instead, he stared directly at Ethan and let out a mocking laugh.
"You'll let me go if I tell you?" he sneered. "Do you think I'm stupid?"
His smile turned darker.
"And even if I told you everything, I'd still end up worse off than dying here."
Ethan's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So that means someone really is pulling the strings behind you," he said quietly. "Am I right?"
For a brief moment, the man's expression stiffened.
Then he clamped his mouth shut and refused to say another word. A resolute look slowly appeared in his eyes.
He had clearly prepared himself to die.
Seeing that reaction, Ethan frowned slightly.
With a subtle movement of telekinesis, he forced the man's jaw open.
Then he ripped out every tooth in the man's mouth.
One of the teeth looked slightly different from the others, its color subtly off. Ethan crushed it instantly with telekinetic pressure.
A faint green liquid seeped out.
Ethan immediately smelled the bitter scent of almonds.
Cyanide.
If the man had managed to bite down on that capsule, he would have been dead within ten seconds.
The blond man trembled on the ground in agony, blood pouring from his mouth. However, his limbs were completely restrained by Ethan's telekinesis, leaving him unable to move.
All he could do was release low, muffled groans of pain.
Just then, a slightly anxious voice suddenly sounded behind Ethan.
"Ethan, you can't kill him."
....
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