Strength means nothing. Numbers mean nothing. Speed means nothing.
The situation was abnormal. Blood flowed like rivers. The arena was black with congealed blood. No one emerged unscathed except those destined to, and only Michael held the reins of power.
Two men were manipulating their pieces aggressively, and I witnessed the result before my eyes. Now I write about it because I believe the time has come to end.
Michael's revenge for himself is no longer enough.
There is another soul that must be avenged, against all who harmed her and all who made us miss her.
The minister and his followers had to prepare themselves well because Michael's rage was reckless and uncontrolled.
He ordered the killing of everyone, along with their families.
We are talking about vast seas of blood that will be spilled because of men's mistakes.
He hasn't listened to anyone since that day.
The funeral was the beginning of the events.
When the men gave me the details of the incident, it was a long report with many names.
I looked at the reports and tried to gather what was important and what needed to be done, then I gave the report. Michael had a file containing footage of the bomb being assembled, a report analyzing the explosive material, its type, who was currently trading it, who planted it, which company they worked for, and other relevant information.
He told me to bring in whoever planted the bomb right now.
Michael divided the teams, each with a specific task, and I was with the dwarf.
We went to my company, and I ordered everyone to take the day off except for a few of my recruited followers. I went to the office, and I got a bulletproof vest.
The dwarf looked at me admiringly.
He said, "I still remember how you were crying at the hotel and at your house."
I told him that was years ago, and I didn't think he was such an emotional person.
He said he was a romantic too, or so his wife made him believe.
Damn, he's married.
I told him he could quit at any time.
I asked him if he had children.
He said he was infertile.
Oh, damn, I made a mistake again.
I asked him if he knew where the bomber was.
He took out his information sheet, which included his home address. And the phone number.
I told him to have the men photograph his wife and children and send the pictures to him in a message.
Ten minutes later, in my office, I was talking to the bomber and arranging a meeting, pretending I was going to buy something from him, so I threatened him.
Michael's old factory now contained sewing machines.
Michael had expanded it and created a suitable space within it.
I went in and gave everyone their end-of-year bonus and additional bonuses, telling them not to come to work unless they received a message.
Many of them didn't try to argue; they knew who they worked for, so they didn't dare disobey.
Five minutes after everyone had left, the bomber came and stood in front of me.
I wanted to tear him apart, eat his disgusting flesh, and spit it out.
But I restrained myself a little and told him to show me what he had. It was a considerable amount of explosives. I asked him about an explosive of the same type that had been placed in the car, and he took it out for me.
I told him Okay, I got the money and took everything he had, even the weapons.
As he was about to leave, I grabbed my bat and broke one of his legs, then the other.
I told the men to knock him unconscious, get a doctor, and wait for me in the locked room.