OUTLAWS: Who Am I?

M²

The morning light filtered through the blinds of Marcus's apartment as he sat on the edge of his bed, the events of the previous night still heavy on his mind. His muscles ached from the fight, and his body was sore from the confrontation with Viper's men, but it was the unease that gnawed at him the most. He reached for his phone, checking the time, when a new message appeared on the screen. It was from his manager, Tony. "Meet me at the Calder City Iron Fist Gym, ASAP. We need to talk." Marcus's brow furrowed as he read the message. Tony's tone was unusually serious, almost urgent. He tried calling, but it went straight to voicemail. A sense of dread settled in his gut, but he pushed it aside, knowing he couldn't afford to ignore Tony's request. Marcus grabbed his gym bag, threw on a hoodie, and headed out the door, the weight of the unknown pressing down on him with every step.

The streets of Calder City were quieter than usual as Marcus made his way to the gym. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows across the pavement, and a chill breeze swept through the city, carrying with it the distant sounds of traffic and the occasional siren. Calder City had a way of feeling alive, as if the buildings and streets held secrets of their own, whispering them to those who knew how to listen. But today, there was an eerie stillness in the air, a sense of foreboding that made Marcus quicken his pace. When he reached the Iron Fist Gym, he noticed immediately that something was off. The usually bustling gym was eerily silent, the neon sign flickering faintly in the dim light. Marcus pushed open the door, the familiar smell of sweat and rubber greeting him, but there were no sounds of bags being hit or trainers shouting instructions. The place was deserted.

Marcus stepped cautiously into the gym, his senses on high alert. The heavy silence was unsettling, the only sound coming from the faint hum of the air conditioning. He walked past the empty ring, his footsteps echoing in the vast space. "Tony?" he called out, but there was no response. A chill ran down his spine as he made his way towards the back of the gym, where the locker rooms and offices were located. The fluorescent lights flickered ominously overhead as he walked down the narrow hallway. His heart pounded in his chest, each step feeling heavier than the last. As he approached Tony's office, a sense of dread washed over him. The door was ajar, the light inside casting a faint glow into the hallway. Marcus pushed the door open, his breath catching in his throat as he stepped inside.

The sight before him made Marcus freeze in his tracks. Tony, his longtime manager and mentor, was slumped over his desk, his body lifeless. Blood pooled on the floor beneath him, and his skin was pale, almost ghostly. Marcus's vision blurred as tears welled up in his eyes, a cry of horror escaping his lips. He stumbled back, his mind struggling to process the scene before him. But then he saw it—the letter sticking out of Tony's mouth, the edges stained with blood. With trembling hands, Marcus reached forward, pulling the letter free. The paper was slightly crumpled, the writing smudged in places. He unfolded it slowly, the tears blurring his vision as he read the words scrawled across the page. It was from Viper. The message was simple, but it sent a wave of cold fear and anger coursing through Marcus's veins. "Meet me back at the gym tonight, alone, or you'll end up just like him. The words burned into his mind, each letter a dagger twisting deeper into his heart."

The night in Calder City was a different beast altogether. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the streets transformed into a maze of shadows and flickering neon lights. The city's underbelly seemed to come alive, with the hum of activity in the alleys and the distant echoes of sirens creating an unsettling symphony. The air was thick with tension, as if the very fabric of the city was holding its breath, waiting for something to snap. Marcus moved through the streets with a heavy heart, his mind a whirlwind of emotions—anger, grief, and a growing sense of dread. The thought of Tony, cold and lifeless in that office, gnawed at him with every step. He could feel the weight of the letter in his pocket, its message clear and unmistakable. As he approached the Iron Fist Gym, the familiar sight of its flickering sign brought no comfort. Tonight, the gym wasn't a place of strength or discipline; it was a battleground, and Marcus knew he was walking straight into the lion's den.