Chapter 114: Chapter 114

The towering, skull-tattooed brute glanced back at his crew, their faces a mix of bravado and unease, before locking eyes with John and sneering. “John, I know you’re some hotshot assassin, a sharpshooter with a body count longer than my rap sheet. But don’t think we’re just a bunch of chumps.” His voice dripped with arrogance, his meaty finger jabbing the air. “I’ve got a dozen brothers behind me. How many can you take out before we turn you into Swiss cheese? Two? Three? Five? The second you pull that trigger, you’re a dead man.”

John stood there, his face a mask of stoic calm, even as a dozen gun barrels stared him down. Inside, he almost wanted to laugh. These guys were legends in their own minds—kings of their fields back in the day, sure, but years behind bars had left them clueless about the world outside. Technology had marched on, times had changed, and these relics from a bygone era had no idea about the bulletproof suit hugging John’s frame. Ignorance was their weakness, and John wasn’t about to enlighten them.

The giant, mistaking John’s silence for fear, smirked wider. “Relax, man. I don’t want beef with you, and I sure as hell don’t want it with Jason. All I’m asking for is a fat stack of cash to walk away and start fresh. Hand it over, and we’re good. No blood, no mess.”

John let out a slow, weary sigh, his voice steady as a blade. “One last time: you either wait for the boss to get back, or you die right here, right now.”

The giant froze, his bravado faltering for a split second. Was this guy really not afraid to die? His face twisted into a snarl, his patience gone. “Fine, no deal? Then I’ll put a bullet in you and raid Jason’s stash myself.”

John’s grip tightened on his twin Glocks, his eyes never wavering. “Go ahead and try.”

The air crackled with tension, a hair’s breadth from exploding into chaos. But before a single shot could ring out, a blinding flood of headlights cut through the dusk, accompanied by the low growl of tires on gravel. Every head turned, eyes squinting against the glare as three cars rolled toward the villa at a steady clip.

John holstered his pistols, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Right on time,” He muttered, as if the boss had planned it to the second. He shouted at the giant, “Hey, tough guy! You wanna quit the organization? There’s the boss. Go tell him yourself.”

The giant and his posse faltered, their faces darkening with dread. They could mouth off to John because they didn’t know him—not really. They hadn’t seen the full extent of the legendary killer’s wrath. But Jason? Jason was a different beast. His presence hit like a tsunami, a force of nature that crushed everything in its path. They’d all witnessed that night when Jason, with nothing but his fists, reduced the hulking, near-invincible Kingpin to a bloody pulp. That image was seared into their minds, a nightmare they couldn’t shake. It was why they feared him—why they should fear him.

The three cars pulled up, stopping about twenty feet away. The doors swung open with a chorus of metallic clicks, and Jason stepped out, his silhouette stark against the harsh glow of the headlights. His eyes, cold and unyielding, swept over the crowd like a predator sizing up prey. The rebellious prisoners instinctively took a step back, their bravado crumbling under his gaze.

The headlights dimmed, engines cut off, and the rest of the crew emerged—Franklin, his grin cocky and dangerous; Harley Quinn, twirling a knife with a manic glint in her eye; Christine, radiating icy control; David, silent and lethal; and Gin and Rum, whose mere presence screamed death. Each held a weapon, from pistols to submachine guns, their expressions a mix of amusement and menace as they flanked Jason.

Jason’s voice sliced through the silence, low and deliberate. “So, I hear you clowns want out of the Joker Organization?”

The words were simple, but they hit like a sledgehammer, each syllable pounding into the rebels’ chests. No one dared speak, their heads bowing like scolded kids caught stealing.

Jason’s lips curled into a sneer, his eyes glinting with contempt. “What’s the matter? You were all big and bad a minute ago, mouthing off like you owned the place. Now you’re playing ostrich, burying your heads in the dirt?”

The ringleaders shifted uncomfortably, torn between speaking up and staying silent. Admit their defiance and risk annihilation? Or keep quiet and look like cowards?

“Hmph!” Jason’s gaze raked over them again. “Bunch of spineless losers.”

That was the spark. The skull-tattooed giant’s face twisted with rage, his voice booming like thunder. “Jason! I’m done with this shit! I’m out!”

His outburst lit a fuse, and the others, feeding off his defiance, shook off their fear and roared their grievances. “Yeah, we’re done too!” One shouted. “Stuck on this ranch like goddamn livestock!” Another spat. “Why do John and Franklin get the villa while we’re rotting in dorms?”

Jason listened, his expression unchanging, a stone-cold mask as their complaints piled up. When the shouting finally died down, he spoke, his tone deceptively calm. “Got it. You’re pissed about the perks, the treatment. Why didn’t you just say so? Lay out your demands.”

The crowd, thinking he was opening the door to negotiations, erupted again. “We want fair treatment!” One yelled. “If you want us to stay, show some damn respect!” Another added. “We’re from Long Island, same as you! We deserve villas, fast cars, champagne, steaks!” A wiry guy in the back, voice hoarse with desperation, shouted, “And women! I’ve been pent-up for a decade!”

Jason nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. “Easy enough. I can give you all of that—villas, cars, the whole damn package.” The crowd’s eyes lit up, but his next words cut like a blade. “But first, you gotta prove you’re worth it. You gotta have skills like them.” He jerked a thumb at Franklin, Harley, Christine, and the others standing behind him.

The rebels’ smiles froze, the air growing heavy with realization. Jason pressed on, his voice sharp and unrelenting. “Fighting, shooting, whatever—show me you’ve got something special, and I’ll hand you the keys to the kingdom. Right now.”

Silence fell, thick and suffocating. The loudest complainers, the ones leading the charge, were all bluster—no real skills to back it up. The true heavyweights, the ones with actual talent, stood on the sidelines, watching the spectacle with knowing smirks. They understood the game: real power came from loyalty and ability, not whining.

Jason’s voice cut through again, mocking. “What, no takers? If you can’t bring anything to the table, why the hell should I give you shit?”

“I’ll do it!” The giant roared, stepping forward, his chest heaving with defiance. “I’ve got what it takes!”

Jason tilted his head, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Ballsy. But I gotta ask—what’s your trick?”

The giant’s face flushed with humiliated fury. With a snarl, he ripped off his T-shirt, revealing a physique that would make bodybuilders weep—muscles like sculpted granite, veins popping with raw power. “Fighting!” He bellowed. “That’s my skill!”

Jason nodded, unfazed. “Alright, pick your opponent. Fair warning—the ladies are fair game too.”

The giant’s eyes bulged, his voice a guttural roar. “You little punk! I don’t need to choose anyone else. I’m coming for you!”

Jason blinked, caught off guard for a split second, then burst into a low, dangerous laugh. “Me? Alright, big guy.” He stepped forward, rolling his shoulders. “I know you’re strong—hell, maybe even Kingpin strong. I respect the guts. So I’ll cut you a deal.”

He raised his left arm, his right hand tucked casually in his pocket. “I’ll stand right here, no dodging, no moving. I’ll fight you with just this arm. Last one minute, and I’ll let you walk away alive. Two minutes, and you get the same perks as my inner circle. Three minutes? You’re my second-in-command.”

The crowd gasped, the giant’s eyes narrowing as he cracked his knuckles, a predatory grin spreading across his face. The challenge was set, and the ranch was about to become a battlefield.

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