Malcolm's eyes went wide with shock, his mind racing. "What? No, Isule, we can't—"
But Isule's voice was like stone. "Kick him, Malcolm," he repeated, his eyes never leaving the Phantom's face.
Marcus's eyes widened in terror, his body tensing as he braced for the blow. Malcolm felt his stomach turn, his mind screaming at him to do something—anything—to stop this from happening. But he knew Isule too well. He knew the kind of person he had become entangled with. And he knew that if he didn't do as he was told, it would only be a matter of time before he was on the receiving end of that cold, brutal grip.
With trembling legs, Malcolm took a step forward, his eyes locked with Marcus's. He could see the fear in his gaze, the desperation for him to put an end to this madness. But Malcolm was trapped—his loyalty to Isule, the fear of his own demise, and the reality of the situation weighing heavily on his conscience.
Isule's voice was like a whip crack, snapping through the air. "Do it," he ordered, his eyes never leaving Malcolm's.
Marcus whimpered, shrinking back against the wall, his eyes pleading. Malcolm felt sick to his stomach, his mind racing for a way out of this nightmare. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to be a part of this world anymore. But he knew Isule's temper, knew the consequences of disobedience. With a heavy heart, he raised his foot.
The sound of the door opening made them all jump. Isule spun around, his hand flying to the gun at his waist, but it was too late. A figure in a hoodie and a skull mask stepped into the room, their eyes glowing with rage.
"You should have stayed out of it," the Phantom growled, her fists clenched.
Malcolm, torn between shock and loyalty, remained rooted to the spot, his eyes darting between his best friend and the mysterious new player. "Who the hell are you?" Isule demanded, his voice a lethal whisper.
The skull-masked figure stepped forward, a smirk playing on the lips beneath the mask. "I'm here to even the score," she said, her voice a blend of amusement and danger.
Isule's grip on the gun tightened, his mind racing. This was not a part of the plan. He had anticipated dealing with Marcus and the Phantom, but this was an unexpected twist. "You're with him?" he spat, jerking his chin towards the cowering Marcus.
The masked figure's smirk grew. "Let's just say we have a common interest," she said, her eyes gleaming with malice.
Marcus took a step back, his eyes wide with fear. "What the hell is going on?" he stuttered, his voice shaking.
The skull-masked figure ignored him, keeping her gaze locked on Isule. "You've been playing a dangerous game," she said, her tone mocking. "But it seems like you've forgotten who the real players are."
Isule's eyes narrowed behind his own mask, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You don't scare me," he said, though his voice betrayed a hint of uncertainty.
The skull-masked figure shrugged. "I'm not here to scare you, Isule," she said, her tone light. "I'm just here to remind you that you're not the only one who knows how to play."
Isule's grip on the gun never wavered, but his mind was racing. Who was this girl, and what did she want? "You think you can take me on?" he challenged, his voice steady.
The skull-masked figure chuckled. "Take you on?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow. "No, Isule, I just want what's rightfully mine. And you're going to give it to me."
Isule's smile grew colder, his eyes flicking to the gun in his hand. "And what's that supposed to be?"
The skull-masked girl's response was swift and sharp. "Your downfall," she said, her voice filled with confidence. "You've been playing god with people's lives for too long, Isule. It's time to pay the piper."
Isule's smile didn't waver. "You think you can scare me?" he asked, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You're just a kid playing dress-up."
The skull-masked figure took a step forward, the shadows playing across her mask, making her appear more menacing than ever. "Is that what you think this is?" she asked, her voice a low, dangerous growl. "A game?"
Isule's smile grew colder, his eyes narrowing. "Isn't it?" he countered. "You think you can come into my world and just take what you want?"
The Phantom took a deep breath, her eyes flashing with anger. "This isn't your world," she spat. "It's ours. And you're the one who's been taking. Now it's time for you to give."
Isule's laugh was a harsh bark, the sound bouncing off the walls of the cramped apartment. "You think you can come at me with your little threats?" He stepped closer to her, the barrel of his gun now just a few inches from her masked face. "I've taken down men twice your size, and I'll do it again."
The skull-masked figure didn't flinch, her gaze holding his own. "Then take it," she said, her voice low and steady. "But know that you're not just killing me, you're killing yourself."
Isule's smile was cold. "You think I'm afraid of death?" He sneered, his finger playing with the trigger of the gun. "You're just like the rest of them, thinking you can scare me with words."
The skull-masked figure's eyes narrowed. "I'm not threatening you with death, Isule," she said, her voice icy calm. "I'm promising it. If you harm me or anyone else here, you'll be signing your own death warrant."
Isule's grip on the gun tightened, but he didn't pull the trigger. He knew the Phantom wasn't bluffing. He'd seen that look before, in the eyes of those who had nothing left to lose. "What do you want?" he ground out.
"The same thing you do," the Phantom said, her voice still steady. "Control. But unlike you, I don't need fear to get it."
Isule's smile grew wider, his finger still on the trigger. "You think you can play me, huh?"
The Phantom's eyes never left his, her voice like ice. "I don't need to play you," she said. "I already know who you are."
Without warning, Isule's smirk turned into a sadistic grin, and he swung his gun around, firing without hesitation. Marcus's body jerked, blood spraying against the wall as he fell to the floor. The Phantom's head snapped back, her lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. But Malcolm's eyes remained open, a silent plea in them as the bullet ripped through the masked figure's head.
Isule's laughter filled the room, the sound a mix of madness and triumph. Marcus's body twitched once, then stilled. The Phantom's ally was dead, and the room was filled with the metallic smell of blood and the acrid scent of gunpowder.
Marcus's eyes were wide with shock and pain as he looked up at Isule, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why?" he choked out, his voice barely audible.
Isule's eyes remained cold as he approached Marcus, the gun still smoking in his hand. "You're either with me, or you're against me," he said, his voice flat. "And you chose poorly."
Marcus's body was a twisted mess of pain, his breathing shallow and erratic. "Is this...it?" he gasped.
Isule crouched beside him, the cold metal of his gun still warm against his skin. "This is just the beginning," he said, his voice devoid of any emotion. "You think you can come into my school, threaten my business, and not face the consequences?"
Marcus's eyes were glassy with pain, but there was a spark of defiance in them. "You...you're insane," he managed to whisper.
Isule's laugh was cold. "Insane?" He leaned in closer, his breath hot on Marcus's cheek. "This is business, Marcus. Nothing personal."
Marcus coughed, a trickle of blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth. "It's always personal," he murmured, his eyes fading.
Isule's smile didn't waver, his hand still clutching the gun. "Not when you're just a pawn in my game," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.
The Phantom's eyes widened, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "You're a monster," she spat.
Isule's smile grew colder. "Maybe," he said, his grip on the gun never faltering. "But I'm a monster who's on top."
Malcolm felt his stomach turn as the reality of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks. He had been a pawn all along, used by Isule to further his own agenda. The Phantom's words echoed in his head—Isule had been playing him since day one.
They left the apartment complex in silence, the sound of their footsteps on the pavement a stark contrast to the chaos they had left behind. Isule's black Lamborghini waited for them, gleaming in the moonlight like a predator ready to pounce.
Malcolm climbed into the car, his thoughts racing. He had seen a side of Isule that he had never wanted to see—the cold, ruthless killer who didn't bat an eye at taking a life. But what choice did he have? He had been in this too long, too deep.
The Phantom's words echoed in his mind—Isule had used him from the beginning, playing him like a fiddle in his quest for power. Malcolm had to get out before it was too late. He made his decision as the Lamborghini's engine roared to life, the vibrations thrumming through his body. He would go to Mrs. Lovely, the school's principal, known for her zero-tolerance policy on drugs and violence. If anyone could bring Isule down, it was her.
As the car sped away from the grisly scene, Malcolm's thoughts raced. He knew that betraying Isule wasn't just about the drug operation; it was about survival. His friend had become a monster, and if he didn't act, he would be consumed by the chaos surrounding him.