The political conference hall buzzed with anticipation. Journalists, security personnel, and political figures filled the expansive space, their conversations creating a low hum of ambient noise.
Marco entered like a force of nature.
The entrance disintegrated as he pushed through, concrete and metal exploding outward with minimal effort. His muscular frame, normally concealed, now moved with predatory precision. The crowd froze, a collective intake of breath marking his violent entrance.
His steel-like eyes scanned the room with surgical accuracy. Years of training allowed him to assess threats, identify escape routes, and locate his primary target in seconds.
The politician stood at the podium, mid-speech, completely exposed.
Marco lifted the handgun. His finger traced the trigger with mechanical precision. One shot. Painless. Clean. The way he had been trained to eliminate targets for years.
Suddenly, the transmitter in his ear crackled to life.
"The boss is safe."
Something broke in that moment. The gun slipped from Marco's hand, clattering against the marble floor. An unexpected smile crossed his face - not of joy, but of something more complex. Resignation? Relief?
He sat down casually in a nearby chair, his massive frame almost comically out of place amidst the chaos.
Special forces surrounded him instantly. "You are under arrest for attempted assassination!" Their weapons trained on him, fingers hovering near triggers.
A stun grenade erupted, white light consuming the room. Blinding. Disorienting.
When vision returned, Marco had vanished.
He awoke being carried by a man named John, who was mid-lecture.
"Do you have a death wish?" John scolded. "Even if you're invincible, I doubt you'll escape them again."
Marco simply smirked. "Thank you, guys," he said, his weary voice carrying its perpetual undertone: life is such a drag.