In 1914, Chicago was teeming with gangs and mobsters, and Thomas Halloway was determined to clean up the city's crime. Taking a long drag from his cigarette, he stared intently at the door that stood between him and his enemy, his resolve unshakable.
"I'm gonna end you, Alphonse!" Thomas growled, his voice a low, dangerous murmur.
With his mission weighing heavily on him, Thomas approached the door. Suddenly, gunfire erupted—Capone's thugs were out to stop him. But Thomas, unfazed, donned the Cape of Mercury. This cape, given to him by a Greek woman who had been trapped in an ancient city since 2060 BC, was said to have belonged to the Roman god Mercury. The cape gleamed with an almost magical light, hinting at its extraordinary history.
As bullets bounced off his cape, Thomas moved forward with precise skill. He ducked and dodged, using his left hand to deflect the bullets while his right hand fired his pistol with deadly accuracy. With smooth, practiced movements, he took down ten of Capone's men.
Thomas moved through the chaos with surprising ease. As he slid across the smooth floor, his actions were both precise and natural. The Cape of Mercury flowed behind him, its shimmering fabric deflecting the barrage of bullets aimed at him, forming an almost invisible shield.
His left hand was a blur, deflecting bullets away with practiced skill. Each shot that hit the cape was either absorbed or redirected, the sound of metal striking fabric breaking through the constant noise of gunfire. The cape's magic worked perfectly with Thomas's expert movements, keeping him safe from harm.
In his right hand, Thomas held his pistol with deadly accuracy. Each shot was carefully aimed, and his targets fell quickly, their bodies hitting the ground in a steady rhythm that matched the chaotic sounds around him. He moved swiftly, blending into the shadows of the room and making him hard to hit.
The floor was slick and dangerous, covered in the aftermath of the fight. But Thomas navigated it with the agility of a experience man; ducking, rolling, and firing with precision. His eyes stayed focused on his enemies, never wavering.
Amidst the noise of gunfire, shouts, and the shuffle of feet, Thomas remained calm and sharp. His every move was deliberate and efficient, each shot a clear response to the chaos. In this deadly fight, Thomas was both hunter and avenger, driven by his unyielding determination and the power of his magical cape.
One of the remaining mobsters, his voice trembling with fear, screamed, "Monster!"—just before a bullet from Thomas's gun silenced him forever.
Thomas's eyes narrowed, and with a sarcastic tone, he said, "Monster? Are you talking to me, or are you talking about yourself?" His voice was cold and disdainful.
As the fighting quieted down, Thomas took a moment to prepare for the final showdown with Alphonse Capone. The room, now silent after the noise of battle, seemed to hold its breath. Thomas, with the Cape of Mercury still glowing faintly behind him, got ready for the last confrontation, determined to put an end to Capone's reign of terror over Chicago.
Thomas's boot smashed through the door with a loud bang, sending pieces of wood flying everywhere. The door, once solid, was now in ruins, exposing the room inside. Alphonse Capone, who had been hurriedly packing his things, stopped abruptly. He looked up and saw a middle-aged man standing among the wreckage, his intense gaze and commanding presence making it clear that this was no ordinary visitor.
Alphonse's eyes widened in recognition and fear. "Angel, you… How did you get here? This is impossible…" His voice faltered, the color draining from his face as he took in the formidable figure before him.
Thomas's demeanor was cold and resolute. "Your so-called henchmen? They're all wiped out!" he declared, his voice carrying a chilling calmness that contrasted with the chaos he had left behind.
Alphonse's face twisted with a mix of anger and dread. "Impossible... My men is strong!!!"
Thomas stepped into the room, his presence commanding and unyielding. The Cape of Mercury flowed behind him like a living extension of his will. "Your men were no match for me," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "They were weak and disorganized, just like you."
Alphonse's hand instinctively moved towards the desk where a revolver lay, but he hesitated. The fear of Thomas's unrelenting advance held him in place. "Fuck you!!" he said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his bravado. "I'm untouchable. I've built this empire from the ground up."
Thomas's eyes narrowed, his gaze unwavering. "Not anymore. Your reign of terror ends tonight." With a sudden movement, Thomas drew his pistol, the metal gleaming in the dim light.
In a swift, almost effortless motion, Thomas advanced. Alphonse scrambled to draw his weapon, but Thomas's speed was overwhelming. A shot rang out, echoing through the room as Alphonse's revolver was knocked from his hand by a precise, well-aimed bullet. The weapon clattered to the floor, useless.
Finally, with a heavy heart, Thomas made his decision. He would not become the monster he sought to destroy. As he looked down at the broken figure on the floor, the weight of his actions pressed heavily upon him. Alphonse Capone lay unconscious, a shattered man amidst the wreckage of his own empire.
Thomas turned away, his steps deliberate and burdened by the moral complexity of his choice. Each step toward the door felt like an echo of his internal struggle, his thoughts a turbulent mix of resolve and doubt.
"Tsk," Thomas muttered under his breath. "I give him some second chance. I hope I won't regret this."
As he exited the room, Thomas looked back one last time, his thoughts swirling with the unsettling realization that even in the darkest depths of human depravity, there could still be fragments of a lost humanity.
He knew he'd have to live with the consequences of his decision, but he hoped that perhaps, somewhere in the wreckage of Alphonse's life, there was a chance for redemption.
The end of Extra chapter