Marvel & Wattpad's Cicakman 3: Bloodlines of Vengeance

Chapter 10

As the mantle of the Punisher draped over Imran Aniq's shoulders, Kuala Lumphattan's once familiar streets morphed into a battleground where the boundary between virtue and malevolence blurred into enigmatic shades of gray. His methods, cold and unyielding, garnered the attention of not only Cicakman but also the criminal elements seeking to exploit the city's vulnerabilities.

In the heart of this urban tempest, where the city's pulse beat in rhythm with the Punisher's relentless pursuit of justice, dialogues unfolded like cryptic exchanges in a noir thriller.

"Imran, you're playing a dangerous game," warned Cicakman, his voice a low, gravelly growl cutting through the dimly lit alley.

Imran turned, the Punisher's emblem etched in shadows across his face. "Cicakman, danger is my currency. It's the only language these criminals understand."

Cicakman's eyes narrowed, his amphibian features reflecting concern. "But at what cost? The city is on the edge. We're becoming what we fight against."

Imran's response was a stoic silence, a tacit acknowledgment of the sacrifices made in the name of justice. The streets echoed with the weight of unspoken words, a testament to the complexities woven into the fabric of their uneasy alliance.

Yet, unbeknownst to these two champions, a more insidious peril lurked in the shadows, a threat patiently biding its time, poised to exploit the pandemonium sown by the Punisher's relentless war on crime. The Bloodlines of Vengeance, unseen but potent, unfurled like a sinister tapestry, heralding the impending clash that would transform the city into a crucible for the very soul of justice.

As the night deepened, conversations in clandestine meeting spots and hidden corners intensified, echoing the mounting tension. A whisper reached Cicakman's ears—a rumor, a tremor in the underbelly of the city.

"The Punisher's actions have awakened something. The Bloodlines are moving, seeking retribution for a past we thought buried," spoke a shadowy informant, face concealed in the dim glow of a neon sign.

Cicakman's eyes widened, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "We're not just fighting criminals anymore. We're dancing on the precipice of something ancient, something that predates our masks and capes."

Imran, overhearing this ominous revelation, tightened his grip on the Punisher's emblem, a silent acknowledgment that the war he waged was about to transcend the boundaries of his understanding.

The stage was set, the players unknowingly entangled in a narrative that extended far beyond the alleyways and skyscrapers. In the labyrinth of conflicting motives, the Punisher and Cicakman stood as unwitting pawns, their destinies interwoven with the impending clash of the Bloodlines of Vengeance. The city, once a canvas for their battles, now awaited a reckoning that would redefine the very essence of justice.

Klon: "You thought you could unravel the city's mysteries without me? You underestimate the shadows, Cicakman."

Cicakman, momentarily taken aback, regained his composure.

Cicakman: "Klon, your reign ended."

Klon: "Did you really think I would allow a mere puppeteer to control the city? I am its true master."

The Architect, sensing the shift in power dynamics, regarded Klon with a mix of disdain and deference.

Architect: "You dare return, Kingpin?"

Klon: "I never left. I merely allowed the puppets to dance in my absence."

The chamber became a tumultuous battleground of conflicting agendas, as the Punisher, Tania, Cicakman, the Architect, and Klon found themselves locked in a fierce struggle for dominance. Emotions ran high as their individual motives clashed, fueling a volatile mix of alliances and rivalries that threatened to consume the room.