I waited patiently in my truck, observing the security personnel and devising a new plan in case anything went wrong. Suddenly, the guard returned and sternly asked me to step out of the truck. I pretended to act clueless, turning my face as if searching for an alternative entrance.
"Sir, can you please step out of the truck?" he insisted, his tone now more assertive as he placed a hand on his pistol holstered at his waist. Other guards swiftly surrounded the truck, their guns trained on me. The barking of the dogs drew even more attention from the distant guards. Reluctantly, I slowly stepped out of the truck, fully aware of the escalating tension. Without wasting any time, he gripped my wrist and forcefully pulled me along.
"Move it," he commanded. I counted a total of twenty-six visible guards, along with several Doberman dogs. The way the guards struggled to control the fiercely pulling canines made me think they resembled wolves more than trained dogs.
I was dragged into the guard room where three chief guards were seated, each holding a steaming cup of coffee. Their uniforms distinguished the superior among them, evident from the insignias on their attire. As we entered the room, I kept my head lowered to conceal my face.
"Hey, Garçon, comment t'appelles-tu?" the officer with a golden leaf-shaped rank insignia on his shoulder inquired. He must be the Major. I didn't understand French (despite having learned numerous languages over the years, French never piqued my interest). It seemed that they were well-versed in French. My heart raced faster when one of the officers noticed his hot cup of coffee had frozen.
"Oh, mon bon seigneur, tout est gelé," he exclaimed, then proceeded to turn the cup upside down. Surprisingly, the others did the same, finding their cups frozen as well.
"Qu'est-ce qui se passe ici? C'est une merveille," the captain exclaimed, astonished by the situation. However, he quickly redirected his gaze toward me.
"Let him go. The weather is getting too cold. And please, get us some coffee," he instructed, handing me back my clearance papers. I breathed a sigh of relief.
"Make sure you sign out before leaving, and I don't want to see you wearing this piece of crap next time," the Major sternly warned.
****
In a dimly lit room, reeking of decaying fish and stained with pools of blood, Marvel sat quietly with her hands bound above her head and her legs shackled. Gandalf and two other hired assassins were beside her, their bodies battered from relentless torture. In front of her stood a stool and a table, but her vision was blurred and hindered. One of her eyes had been shot, and the other was swollen shut.
Blood dripped from her nose, staining the floor below.
"Stay strong, help is on its way," Gandalf mustered, his voice strained and weak. It was evident that he wouldn't survive the night. The two hitmen, barely clinging to life themselves, showed no signs of surrender. They were prepared to fight and protect Marvel with the last ounce of strength remaining in their bodies.
Suddenly, the iron door swung open, and the sound of marching soldiers reverberated in a distinctive formation. Marvel attempted to open her eyes to grasp the unfolding situation, but she couldn't. "Hahaha, you pathetic brat," a man sneered as he entered the room. The door was promptly shut behind him, sealing their fate from the outside.
Gandalf recognized him.
"She may be little, but she's ten times the person you'll ever be," he muttered. Immediately, one of the soldiers struck him with a wooden bat to silence him.
"Oh, Gandalf the Great! I never imagined you would lose your foresight all because of this girl's father. In the end, you'll die before her, and all those years of work will amount to nothing. No children of your own. What a pity. And yet, you still have the audacity to speak?" The man continued, his voice gruff and filled with contempt.
Marvel continued to cough up blood, straining her eyes to get a clear view of his face.
"You despicable scumbag. Do you think you can finish what you started? Just remember this: A Lannister always pays his debts. You may see me as a cat of a different coat, but whether it's a coat of gold or a coat of red, a lion still has its claws," she muttered under her breath.
"Hmm, like father, like daughter. Unlike your father, it took me time to kill him. But you see, little girl, I'm the one in charge now. I'm the king, and everyone kneels before me. Now listen, you spoiled brat. I'm allowing you to breathe because of the debt I owe the McQueens. I'm giving you 24 hours to return my diamonds and all the goods you stole..." While the man was still speaking, Gandalf interjected.
"You thief! The diamond you stole from her mother after killing her, we have nothing to do with the hijacking of your trucks. And even if we did, you wouldn't see them again. Listen, Lucas, it would be a mistake to let us live for another 24 hours because by that time, you'll be begging for your life. And those guards surrounding you? They'll abandon you right before your eyes. My advice to you is to leave this place immediately," Gandalf said, his face filled with astonishment and anger.
Lucas sneered in annoyance, clenching his fist to resist the urge to strike Gandalf. He paced back and forth in the room, saying nothing. Suddenly, a guard rushed in to get his attention, whispering something in his ear. Gandalf overheard their conversation, able to read people's thoughts and minds when they were near him. Sometimes, he even glimpsed beyond the walls of a room.
Gandalf and Lucas had once worked for Mr. McQueen. Lucas had been found homeless on the roadside, and Mr. McQueen took him in as a son. While Gandalf was employed as a driver, entrusted with the task of transporting Maverick McQueen to school and his friends' houses, Lucas became envious of his wealth and desired to be just like him. Given the opportunity to attend the best schools and learn the intricacies of business from the McQueen family, Lucas grew increasingly jealous. After Mr. McQueen passed away, Lucas's envy festered, and he no longer wanted to acknowledge him as his boss.
Lucas began plotting to eliminate Mr. Mavrick McQueen, but with Gandalf's help, Mr. Mavrick survived the orchestrated attack from Lucas and other Mafia leaders. However, Lucas claimed a portion of the McQueen empire and rose to become the Mafia boss.
Two years later, Mr. Maverick McQueen returned and reclaimed his position as the boss, although with diminished territory. He had lost some influence after the attack, and his right leg had been amputated. Gandalf became his loyal right-hand man and driver, providing invaluable support to his boss. However, during the raid, Gandalf sustained a gunshot wound to the head
Gandalf and Maverick McQueen went on a business trip for a week. However, during their absence, Lucas planned another attack on the McQueen family. Tragically, his attack resulted in the death of Mrs. Margaret McQueen, who was an activist, CEO of the McQueen clothing line, and Mr. Maverick McQueen's wife.
Upon their return, they gathered the remaining members of their cartel to devise a plan to recover what had been stolen. It was during this time that Lucas kidnapped Marvel as part of his scheme and demanded a ransom. It was through this act that he gained control of the fishing company from which he conducted his exports.
Lucas has ruthlessly risen to power, both in the government and throughout the region. He has amassed great influence and possesses the ability to dismantle anyone who dares to plot an attack against him and his empire.