Earlier that day.
Newport Harbor.
2:50 a.m.
An isolated storage alley.
Fifteen guards, five armed.
They were all inside this dark, barren storage house, loading up boxes with guns, vials of medicines, and parts of machinery.
There was not much chit-chat among the men; there were only limited talks regarding the consignment in their hands.
"You, you, and you, make sure the boxes all have a Disney sticker on them. In case of any inspection, let them think this is all going to Disneyland. That oughta stop them from opening any of these up,", said one of the men.
"That's a stupid idea", said another man who hadn't done this before.
"That's the dumbest thing I have heard all day", said another.
The other men nodded their heads in approval. It indeed was a stupid thought.
"Well, I don't get paid enough for this crap anyway."
He looked around, and then he knew he had to say something of more importance to make him look less stupid.
"Remember, there should be no witnesses or evidence. After we pack our stuff, we clean up, and only then, we leave".
"We know bud, we know", the men replied back.
"Oh for god's sake, remember who they left in charge", the head snapped at them for the cold shoulder treatment he was receiving from the boys.
"Hear, hear!" they replied in unison, even though it was obvious it had a ting of sarcasm in it.
This was probably the most odd job these men have done.
It had been a few weeks since they had stayed low, in sketchy locations, shifting these huge boxes from place to place. They don't know what the stuff were, who employed them, and what was the end goal.
Today, however, was their last day of work. These burdens of "stuff" were going to get shipped to Paris, which meant the lads just had to make sure they were all packed and ready. No more hiding in random places, they can go back to living their boring unemployed lives.
It was a cold, dark night. The breeze from the harbor was both invigorating and cold. The storeroom they were in had little to almost no light. The room was gloomy and full of shadows.
Shadows that anyone could lurk in, shadows that could listen.
"Hey, is Troy even out there? We haven't heard from him in awhile", asked one of the men.
"Yeah, wasn't he the guy who was supposed to tip us if the guards were coming?", inquired another man.
"Isn't it a good thing that he doesn't talk?", said another
"He probably went for a leak.", one of the men said.
"That could be true"
All of a sudden, everyone turned towards Jey, who they always picked to do the dirty work. Dirty clothes, dirty dishes, you name it.
"Jey, go check on him. If Troy did go for a number one, stand outside and come back in when he's back", said the head of this operation.
"Why is it always me?", replied Jey.
"Just shut up and do as you're told. It's the last day, kid. You cannot screw this up!"
Jey sulked his way out.
Jey was young, probably in his early twenties. One of his friends had called him to do this job instead of him, as he was sick.
"Ugh, I'm never doing this again."
The time was 3 a.m.
Jey was still out on patrol.
He was thinking about what the guys were talking about yesterday.
He had heard of the man who beat up a lot of people in such harbors, putting an abrupt end to such operations. He thought about the fear the men felt when they were speaking of him as well as the pain they all suffered after encountering him.
He was thinking about the possibility of encountering this person himself, almost breaking into a cold sweat thinking about all the stories he had heard.
"Limbs broken, bones shattered....."
However, his thoughts were interrupted when he heard some noise behind some boxes.
"Oh, I swear it's just Troy trying to scare me", Jey thought to himself.
Jey was brimmed with fear, he really hoped this was just a prank.
"Hey Troy, I know it's you. Quit it; we've got a job to do here!"
There was no reply.
He waited a bit for any reply.
"Hey, just quit it."
No reply.
Jey started to believe that this wasn't a prank.
"Troy?"
Jey had fear in him; he didn't know if he should check behind the boxes.
"What if it was a cat? A little kitty? Or maybe it was the wind?"
Hesitant at first, after mustering up some courage, he finally moved closer to the boxes.
Closer and closer.
Very cautiously, he moved nearer. He took a peak behind the boxes, trying to check what was making the sound that bothered him.
He had noticed something unusual, so he took a better look.
He was right, and whatever he had seen has left him mortified. He stood there in dead silence, unable to process what he had seen.
He found Troy in a bloody mess.
He was bloodied, and it had all signs of an ambush. He was still breathing but couldn't move. His face was crimson-red with blood, a broken nose, and loose teeth.
Jey was clouded by a plethora of thoughts, until it took him a while to realize - it had to be him.
"No one else could have done this. Who would hurt him?"
The fear that every man had was now in him. He was frozen and couldn't let out a sound from his mouth. He knew that it was his turn—his unfortunate luck to be in this position.
He looked into the shadows, where 'he' usually hides.
Before he could think of anything, he felt the presence of someone behind him.
Before he could even take a look at this person...
BAM! BAM! BAM!
That was loud enough for the others to hear, which led to some conversation among the men.
"What was that?"
"Could be a kitty."
"Where's Jey?"
"He's probably still waiting for Troy."
"Why is it taking this long?"
There was a lot of discourse among the men. No one had the courage to go out and check what had happened. Maybe they are aware of the stories as well.
"Should I check on them?", one of the men suggested.
There was some hesitation among them.
"Nah, screw them. Get this done, and get the hell outta here"
Out of nowhere, they heard another loud sound. They all looked at each other with panic in their eyes. Some of the men were new to this, and they very well knew the risks of doing this job, which included encountering him.
They were all fixated on the shadows, feeling that he would pounce from the shadows at any moment.
They waited for a while.
And just as they had heard, he slowly appeared from the shadows. Slowly and quite methodically, making sure he is seen well and clearly.
A 6'5 tall, fully cloaked, masked, muscular hunk of a man. He wore all black, and his face was covered. But his eyes were visible, almost without any human expression.
He was holding a baseball bat with blood on it.
Someone was hurt, and the men knew it had to be Jey and Troy.
The thirteen men were staring at their inevitable beating; they were staring at their nightmare. There was very few they could do.
It was do or die for them, it was all about surviving at this point.
The man in the shadows looked at them and without a shift in emotion, he started moving towards them.
"Get him!"
Everyone was hesitant, but they knew it was the only thing they could do at this point.
He was just one man, how much could he take?
As the men were approaching, the man in the shadows gripped his baseball bat hard.
He didn't bring that bat to play baseball; it was meant for pain and blood. And without a twitch, he swung that bat straight at the throat of the approaching man.
BAM!
That was enough to send a message to the rest. The men with the guns were scared to pull the trigger. They tried and missed him multiple times. They were too nervous to take aim, even if their life depended on it.
One by one, without any mercy, he would beat up the men. He takes them down bloodies them with his own bare hands.
He grabbed the head of this operation by the hair, dragging him towards the light.
"Answer my questions, and you will live. The longer you take, the more these men will suffer."
Jey was still outside, still writhing in pain, conscious of what was happening but unable to act. He could hear the sounds of every man in the storehouse getting beaten up, crying out of pain.
He could hear their bloodcurdling screams and their pleas.
Until it stopped.
The man had gotten what he had come for. He got what he wanted to hear and destroyed whatever was in those boxes.
And just like that, the Man in the Shadows walked away, making sure there was no one to witness what had happened.
He was carrying his baseball bat, dragging it along the ground, blood dried on it.
On his way out, he sends a text message to someone.
"The job is done."
Just as he was about to put his phone away, he got an immediate reply.
"Oh okay. Take care. Eva doesn't know you have left. I'll handle that. Take care, Tim."