Billionaire in Kingsman with a Marvel System

McCall opened and closed the door twice, drawing the attention of the five thugs in the room, especially the armed one closest to the door. Quietly standing behind the door, McCall carefully observed the room, noting the potential weapons and the possible movements of the five men.

He silently calculated his attack sequence and the time needed, muttering to himself, "Sixteen seconds," before calmly walking toward Slavy.

The thug sitting on the sofa by the door immediately stood up and followed McCall, raising his gun. But before he could aim, McCall swiftly spun around, grabbed the thug's right hand, and delivered a powerful punch to his nose.

With a quick twist, McCall dislocated the thug's arm with a sharp "crack," causing the thug to scream in pain, his nose broken and his arm useless.

Ignoring the incapacitated thug, McCall grabbed the silenced Glock 17 and aimed it at Slavy's forehead, who was now panicking. Without hesitation, McCall fired a shot, "Thud."

Slavy reacted quickly, but not quickly enough. The bullet hit his hand as he instinctively raised it to protect his head, piercing through and striking an artery in his neck. Slavy collapsed instantly, his body unable to move.

As McCall turned to aim at the next target, the dislocated thug managed to knock the Glock out of his hand. McCall quickly grabbed a small glass from a nearby table and smashed it into the thug's eye, causing his eyeball to burst and rendering him immobile, writhing in agony on the floor.

It wasn't until McCall had taken down two men that the remaining three reacted. The nearest thug, a man wearing a gold chain, lunged at McCall with a knife. But McCall was ready. He sidestepped the attack, grabbing the thug's wrist with his right hand and delivering a sharp blow to the thug's elbow with his left hand, driving the knife into the thug's own heart.

As the knife plunged into the thug's chest, McCall let go and raised his right arm to block a punch from another thug—a man in a tank top. He swiftly pulled the knife from the thug's chest and slashed it across the tank top thug's throat and carotid artery.

A kick to the thug's leg sent him off balance, and McCall smashed his head into the corner of the desk, breaking the thug's neck. He collapsed to the floor, the first of the group to die instantly.

The thug with the knife in his heart was still groaning in pain, but McCall silenced him with another stab to the throat, the knife sinking deep into his neck. McCall's experience as a former agent meant he never left his enemies alive. He twisted the knife, nearly severing the thug's neck.

Stepping back to avoid the spray of blood, McCall turned to the last standing thug—the long-haired man—and, gripping the bloodied knife, spoke with a mocking tone. "It's just you now. Why aren't you laughing anymore?"

The long-haired thug, realizing he was outmatched, grabbed a bottle and charged at McCall, desperate. McCall ducked under the bottle and stabbed the thug in the left kidney, then quickly slashed his wrist, severing the tendons. The bottle fell to the floor, and the pain slowed the thug's reaction.

Rising to his feet, McCall stabbed the thug again, this time in the left wrist, disabling both hands. Without missing a beat, McCall drove the knife into the thug's heart.

Grabbing the thug's hair, McCall stared into his eyes. "Laugh again," he demanded.

Despite the pain, the thug forced a twisted smile, "FKU."

"Thud." Unimpressed, McCall drove the knife into the thug's chin, the blade piercing through his mouth and into his skull. "Go on, try laughing now," McCall taunted as the thug's face contorted in terror.

Watching this scene through the camera in McCall's glasses, both William and John Wick felt a chill. McCall's brutality towards these scumbags was shocking, his actions merciless.

Releasing the thug's hair and letting him collapse to the floor, McCall checked his wristwatch. "Twenty-eight seconds," he muttered, frowning slightly. Shaking his head, he realized he really was getting old. Although his skills were still sharp, his body's slower reflexes were undeniable.

After surveying the room to confirm that all four thugs were dead, McCall walked over to where Slavy lay, clutching his throat. Seeing the fear in Slavy's eyes, McCall spoke calmly, "Your heart is beating three times faster than normal because your blood pressure is dropping. The faster your heart beats, the faster you'll bleed out. In about thirty seconds, you'll lose consciousness and suffocate to death. You should have agreed to sell Alina to me—then you'd have lived a few more days instead of dying here on this cold floor."

Slavy's breathing was already labored, and he knew death was near. Struggling, he asked, "Who... are you?"

"My name is Robert McCall. When you get to hell, tell your four friends who sent you there. They'll want to know."

Checking his watch, McCall counted down, "Twenty-five seconds, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty."

Before he could finish, Slavy took his last breath.

Sitting on the floor, McCall shook his head and muttered to the lifeless Slavy, "You never should have come to this country. Because this place is hell, and we are the devils."

Standing up, McCall took one last look at Slavy. "Yes, we are all devils."

He carefully gathered the weapons he had touched, placing them in a bag. Before leaving, he wiped down the doorknob and any other surfaces he had touched with a damp cloth.

McCall then made his way to the top floor, jumping across to the rooftop of the neighboring building, and casually descended to the street, returning home with ease.

John Wick waited until McCall boarded a bus before speaking, "Sir, where did you find this psychopath? This guy gives me a bad feeling."

"Heh, you've killed far more people than McCall. What's making you uneasy? Is it because you usually use a gun while he relies on his hands, feet, and mind? Maybe you're just uncomfortable because you can't kill with the same ease that he does."

John Wick was silent for a moment, mentally comparing his skills to McCall's. He realized he couldn't match McCall's effortless lethality.

"Alright, Sir, I admit that my hand-to-hand skills might not be as good as his. But why do you think I don't use my brain when I work? I'm not just some mindless shooter."

"Heh, that's not a funny joke," William scoffed. "When have you ever done anything other than storm in with your guns blazing, taking down everyone in your way?"

___________________

Read Ahead

[email protected]/Mutter