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ILLEGAL JUSTICE

4fiazz
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Chapter 1 - CHAPTER-1 : "THE CITY BENEATH"

It was 5 a.m. in Istanbul.

The city was just beginning to stir, but Almir Zahid was already awake, seated in the dim corner of his small apartment, fingers wrapped around a half-cold mug of coffee. The television flickered with another breaking headline:

"Five high-profile crimes in three days-no arrests made."

His eyes didn't flinch. This wasn't news to him.

His name never appeared in court records, yet across six of Turkey's major cities, a silent network moved beneath the surface. A network that delivered justice-not legally, but effectively.

And Almir... was its architect.

He stepped out into the narrow alleyway outside his apartment, the noise of the city hitting him like static-blaring horns, sharp arguments, and the distant wail of a siren that never seemed to arrive.

The morning streets were already alive, but there was no rhythm. Only chaos.

A boy-maybe ten-snatched a wallet from a tourist's hand and vanished into traffic before she could scream. Two men argued in front of a butcher shop, one pulling a knife without hesitation. No one stopped walking. No one looked twice.

This city didn't just tolerate crime.

It absorbed it.

Almir paused, his eyes hidden behind dark lenses, every sense alert. New city, same disease.

But he wasn't here to clean it up in daylight.

He wasn't the law.

He was something else.

Then, something shifted.

A loud crash echoed-metal against flesh-and Almir turned just in time to see the pickpocket from earlier being slammed into a lamppost. A tall man had intercepted him mid-run, twisted the boy's wrist, and calmly took back the wallet.

No hesitation. No wasted motion.

That kind of calm violence... he knew it well.

The man tossed the wallet back to the stunned tourist without a word. The boy-spooked but alive-bolted in the other direction. The crowd barely reacted.

As the man turned, brushing invisible dust from his coat, a slow grin spread across Almir's face.

"Zamir."

The man spotted him instantly, his expression softening. He crossed the street with ease, weaving through people like he belonged there.

They clasped hands.

"You never change, do you?" Almir said.

"You do. New face, again."

"New city," Almir replied. "Same rot."

They stood for a moment, silent observers in a city drowning in noise. Then Zamir nudged him with an elbow.

"Let's get out of here. You look like someone who hasn't had real food in two days."

"I haven't. And I'm not trusting your cooking."

Zamir laughed, a low familiar sound, and the two men turned away, disappearing into the blur of Istanbul-unseen, unnoticed.

But they were not ordinary men.

They were the kind who only arrived when the system stopped working.

***

"Please… forgive me! I made a mistake, it won't happen again, I swear!" His voice cracked, echoing off the damp concrete walls. He was on his knees, wrists bound tight, sweat and fear dripping into his eyes. Somewhere in the shadows, a single bulb swayed from the ceiling, its weak light cutting through the darkness in trembling arcs.

Tap...tap...tap...

Berkan Zamir emerged from the darkness.

Tall, composed, immaculate in a charcoal suit, his presence filled the room like a suffocating fog. A single scar ran from above his left eye down to his cheek, a reminder of violence survived — or delivered. He stopped inches away, looking down with a gaze that could strip a man to his bones.

The man stammered, "I… I'll fix it… the shipment—"

Berkan crouched, one gloved hand gripping the man's jaw with slow, crushing force until their eyes locked. His voice was quiet, steady — and infinitely more frightening than a shout.

"You let three crates of our medicine hit the open market without clearance. Do you know what was inside those crates?"

The man's lips trembled. "I—"

"ketamine," Berkan said, his tone as cold as marble. "And now the wrong people have it. Because of you."

At a subtle gesture, one of his men stepped forward with a small metal container. As the lid came off, the acrid stench of acid clawed at the air. The man jerked violently, trying to twist away, but Berkan's grip on his face tightened.

"In my presence," Berkan whispered, leaning closer, "a mistake is not forgiven. It is punished"

Berkan's fingers dug into his skin, cutting off his words. "Exactly. One box. But one box is enough to bring heat to my door. And you know what I do with people who bring heat .

The acid struck his eye with a vicious hiss. The scream that followed was raw, inhuman, echoing so violently that the bulb above trembled in its socket. Berkan didn't flinch. His jaw tightened, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he released the man, letting him crumple sideways, clutching the ruin of his face.

Berkan didn't flinch. His jaw tightened, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he released the man, letting him crumple sideways, clutching the ruin of his face.

Berkan rose smoothly, dusting his gloves as though brushing away an afterthought. He glanced at his watch. "We're late for the board meeting," he murmured.

Berkan leaned close again, his voice almost gentle. "Oh, and… erase every trace that ties that ketamine box to me. Replace it with the name of some poor, decent fool who's been in my way lately."

The polished click of his shoes faded into the dark, leaving only the stench of burned flesh — and the knowledge that in Berkan Zamir's world, even loyalty could be punished.