Chapter 20: Let me Handle It
Marcus picked up the scalpel from the ground and observed the surrounding environment. He didn't find any cameras or surveillance equipment.
The dimly lit, unfinished corridor had a faint sound of cars passing by outside. There were also some thick pipes connecting to the corners of the walls, indicating that this was likely a converted basement.
Marcus turned a corner in the narrow corridor and saw a staircase leading upstairs, so he climbed the stairs.
Opening the stairwell door, he saw a house with predominantly white decor. It looked clean, and the underground door opened inside the house.
This was a suite. Marcus peeked out from behind the door; there was no one there.
After thinking for a moment, he turned back to the basement.
He came to the well-dressed man and tried to activate the second ability of the Cursed One: Skin Transfer.
The man's skin writhed and loosened. Marcus gently pulled, and a complete skin suit was removed.
Marcus put it on, and with a thought, the blood on the ground dried, and his skin began to tighten. Then Marcus put on the man's clothes. He wasn't used to being shirtless.
"I'm back!"
Marcus tried speaking, his voice now identical to the man's. He was satisfied.
Now that he had returned, these people should naturally face justice; this was karma.
Marcus picked up his scalpel and re-entered the upper level. He openly walked through the door into the living room, finding another room's door tightly shut. Judging from the sounds inside, someone was clearly there.
Marcus circled the living room, confirming that no one else was present.
He walked to the refrigerator, opened it, took out an ice-cold Coke, popped it open, took a large gulp, and then calmly walked to the closed door and gently knocked.
Knock knock.
"Who is it?"
a middle-aged man's gruff voice came from inside.
"It's me,"
Marcus replied in the stolen voice.
"What is it?"
the middle-aged man asked.
"Open the door," Marcus said again.
"What do you want?"
the middle-aged man's voice grew impatient.
BANG!
Marcus kicked the door open.
"Open the door when I tell you to. What the hell are you doing with your hands?"
Marcus looked at the disheveled middle-aged man browsing porn sites and suddenly understood.
The bearded middle-aged man stared blankly at Marcus, hurriedly zipped up his pants, and was about to explode in anger.
What was this doctor's problem?
He didn't care about the bloodstains on the doctor's body, because that was part of their business. He was about to start cursing when he noticed something was wrong with the doctor's eyes, which were filled with murderous intent. He also glanced at the scalpel in the doctor's hand and began to feel uneasy.
"I hope you don't have any regrets!"
Marcus, scalpel in hand, slowly approached the middle-aged man.
"What do you want to do? Don't be stupid!"
The middle-aged man began to back away from the bed, tripped over the frame, and sat down on it.
"Doc, let me tell you, murder is illegal."
At this moment, the middle-aged man had forgotten that what they were doing was already illegal.
"You're still young, you still have a chance."
As he spoke, the middle-aged man shrank back on the bed.
Then the middle-aged man's tone suddenly changed, becoming ruthless as he said,
"Let Uncle handle the killing!"
"Hands up now, or I'll blow your head off!"
The middle-aged man suddenly pulled a pistol from under the pillow on the bed and pointed it at Marcus.
Marcus ignored the man's threat and continued walking toward him.
"Kill me?"
"With that toy you're holding?"
BANG! BANG!
The middle-aged man fired two shots at Marcus.
Marcus dodged sharply, threw the scalpel at the middle-aged man, and simultaneously rushed forward, kicking the pistol out of the man's hand, crushing his fingers.
"Ah, my hand! Doc, you've really lost it!"
The middle-aged man screamed in agony, clutching his right hand, which looked as if it had been sledgehammered.
Marcus frowned, looking at the man's knocked-out front tooth from the scalpel handle and the gunshot wound on his own leg.
He had originally intended to dodge the bullet and kill the trafficker with the blade, but his technique was clearly lacking; he needed to practice.
He picked up the scalpel and walked over to the man.
"Time for a quiz. You'll get a reward for each correct answer," Marcus said to the man.
"First question: Where are the records of the victims you kidnapped?"
Marcus was worried they had arrest records, and if he went home without a trace, he would definitely be discovered.
"Doc, I'll give you all the money this time. Please help my hand."
"Wrong answer."
Marcus severed the man's left ear with a single stroke.
"No, no records! Only the three of us and the client know about this,"
the man replied in pain.
"Very good, here's your reward. Next question: who is the client?"
Marcus severed the man's right ear with a single stroke. He wouldn't show mercy to organ traffickers like this.
"Ah, my ear!"
"The client is Richard Morrison. This is his suburban estate. His kid needs a heart transplant. The kid's on the second floor, waiting for you to transplant the organ directly."
The middle-aged man rattled off everything in one breath.
"Good boy, you've learned to answer quickly. Here's your final reward."
Marcus said calmly.
With one stroke, he ended the middle-aged man's pain. Using his absorption ability, he healed the injury to his right leg, though his jeans had another hole.
He casually put the middle-aged man's pistol into his spatial storage.
Marcus thought for a moment, cleared the middle-aged man's browser history, turned around, and left, closing the door behind him.
He got into the elevator on the first floor and pressed the button for the second floor.
Rich people are something else; they even have elevators in their homes.
The elevator doors opened, and Marcus walked around the floor. There were still two bedrooms, one of which was locked with no movement inside.
Marcus went to the other bedroom and pushed open the door.
The room had been set up like a hospital room.
A thin, seventeen or eighteen-year-old kid lay on the bed watching a video titled "SAT Prep: Complete Guide."
He looked like a diligent student.
"Doc, you're here?"
Hearing the door open, the kid asked nervously, his eyes filled with anticipation.
"Where are your parents?"
Marcus asked.
"Single parent household. You looking for my dad? Did they successfully get that guy's heart? I'll call him right now."
The kid excitedly reached for the phone.
"It wasn't successful!"
Marcus looked at the kid and said calmly.
"What? What am I supposed to do? Why did it fail?"
The kid stopped, his eyes flashing with a sinister light as he stared at Marcus.
"Don't worry!"
"Where you're going, you won't need a heart."
Marcus said, plunging the scalpel into the kid's chest.
Then he picked up the phone and dialed a number saved as "Dad."
"Son, what's wrong? Dad just finished signing the contract and is on his way home. I brought you your favorite Honeycrisp apples."
A gentle old man's voice came from the phone.
Marcus heard this, didn't speak, and hung up.
Grabbing the young man's leg, he kicked open the door to another bedroom, turned on the computer, and accessed the security camera feeds outside the estate, which had been turned off to avoid detection.
Marcus settled into the chair, watching the monitors. He had time. Let dear old dad come home to find what his money had bought.
Sometimes Hell came to you. Sometimes you had to bring it to others.
Either way, justice would be served.
(End of Chapter)
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