In a dimly lit basement, a naked middle aged man was tied down to a chair with a hole in the middle of the seat. He had dried blood all over his torso. His lips were parched and his body was emancipated and full of gashes and wounds, suggesting he'd been locked up for quite a while and tortured too.
All of a sudden, the iron door swung open to reveal a man. Standing tall and immaculate in a tailored navy suit, the middle-aged man exuded an air of chilly sophistication. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly styled, his piercing blue eyes behind black-rimmed glasses seemed to miss nothing, and his sharp, chiselled features bespoke an aura of authority. Though impeccably dressed, his demeanour was detached, calculated, and coolly aloof, with an edge of unyielding determination. It was clear that this was a man who had seen it all, a seasoned businessman with a reputation for relentless ambition and strategic cunning. As soon as the prisoner saw this man, he started shaking uncontrollably with terror, rage and all sorts of emotions visible on his face.
The man who came in took a few moments seemingly savouring the moment before saying
"Mike, how have you been? I hope you found the accommodations here to your liking. Did it really have to be this difficult Michael? You could've given up the info way earlier and you wouldn't have had to go through all of this. Well, don't worry now that I've gotten what I wanted I'll let you go peacefully"
The prisoner raged "You!!! You are the devil!! Let my family go! I've fulfilled my end of the deal!" and coughed blood sounding even weaker.
Markus replied "Don't worry Mike, I'll make sure your family follows you soon enough, hahah!!" and laughed out as if he had heard an interesting joke.
"You bastard!! What did you say?? Nooooo… You promised me! No get your hands off me!! I curse you, Markus. Do you hear me? You'll end up like me one day!!!", the man shouted as he was dragged off by a couple of guys in suits.
Another one of those men approached the man called Markus and bowed with deep respect "Sir, we've terminated all loose ends. I think it's time for us to leave the country sir"
"
Yes, you're right," replied Markus.
As the screams of the prisoner were resounding through the hallways, a loud bang echoed throughout and the basement became eerily quiet once again.
As the announcement that a key executive of a sweden company and his family had gone missing played on the billboards in the street, the same man who executed said executive was scrolling through his phone in the back of a Bentley. His name? Marckus Reed. His name was always mentioned with a sense of awe and fear. From the moment he could grasp the concept of trade, Marcus had been consumed by a voracious appetite for business. He saw the world as a vast marketplace, ripe for exploitation and profit.
As a child, Marcus would eagerly barter his toys with classmates, always seeking to get the better end of the deal. His knack for negotiation soon blossomed into a full-blown obsession with commerce. By the time he reached adulthood, Marcus had already established himself as a shrewd entrepreneur, navigating the cutthroat world of business with ruthless efficiency.
With each passing year, Marcus's empire expanded, swallowing up competitors and devouring market share with an insatiable hunger. He built his fortune on the backs of others, showing no mercy to those who dared to stand in his way. Some whispered of backroom deals and underhanded tactics, of rivals who mysteriously vanished or found themselves bankrupt overnight. But Marcus paid no heed to such rumours, for in his eyes, success was the only currency that mattered.
His empire grew to encompass a vast network of shops and malls, each bearing his name like a brand of conquest. From luxury boutiques to discount chains, Marcus ruled them all with an iron fist, brooking no dissent from those who sought to challenge his dominance.
Yet amidst the cutthroat world of business, there existed a curious paradox within Marcus's heart. For all his ruthlessness and ambition, he took a perverse pleasure in seeing his customers satisfied, in knowing that his products brought joy to the masses. It stroked his ego to see his name emblazoned on storefronts, to know that he held the power to shape the desires of an entire city.
But as the years wore on and age began to creep upon him like a shadow, Marcus knew that he could not hold onto his empire forever. He had sired a brood of children, each one hungry for power and eager to claim their birthright. And so, he set in motion a ruthless competition, pitting his offspring against one another in a bid to determine who would inherit the mantle of his legacy.
The competition was fierce, with alliances formed and broken, betrayals whispered in the dark corners of boardrooms. Marcus watched with cold detachment as his children vied for his favor, knowing that only the strongest would survive the crucible of his judgment.
And then, on his deathbed, surrounded by the trappings of his wealth and power, Marcus spoke with a voice as cold as ice to the son who had emerged victorious from the fray.
"You will not fail me," he said, his words a chilling command. "You will carry on my legacy, by any means necessary. Do not disappoint me."
But as Marcus's eyelids began to droop, and the darkness of death loomed ever closer, a sudden intrusion shattered the silence of the room—a mechanical voice, cold and impersonal, echoing inside his head.
[Suitable candidate identified: 97% of requirements met] the voice intoned. [Transfer process initiated]
And as Marcus Reed slipped away into the void, a new chapter began to unfold—a tale of ambition and betrayal, of power and business, in a world so different from the one he occupied a few scant moments ago.