The furious man slammed the piece of furniture in front of him as hard as he could as his employee's words sank in.
"How the fuck did this happen!?" He screamed, glaring at the three men in turn who had come to tell him the important news.
It was easy to see that the three men standing on the other side of the desk were afraid.
But what?
The boss's anger, which he should not take out on them, because they only passed on the information.
Consequences, even though it's not their fault.
They were afraid of both, because their angry boss was not to be trifled with.
"Boss…" The one on his left began.
If he had known that these would be the last words he spoke in his life, they would definitely have been different…
A moment later, he lay dead, blood gushing from his chest, and the person he was addressing was still looking at him, aiming at the spot where he had been standing moments ago.
He threw the black weapon on the desk, throwing himself into the chair behind it. He sat down in it, thinking.
"I'll ask again." he began, his voice fully composed, looking up at his employees. "How. Did. This. Happen." He hissed through his teeth.
For two seconds there was complete silence, uninterrupted by anything.
"It's not entirely clear yet, they were supposedly Stark's men." One of them replied, looking at the pool of blood in front of his feet.
The only one sitting nodded, scratching his small stubble.
Nothing here fit. He didn't understand why the famous Iron-man was suddenly interfering after so many years. Since he did all this, the two of them hadn't crossed paths, and now suddenly his people were interfering in his affairs and who knows where they were taking his precious item.
"You are to find out why and what they did to him." he ordered.
"With which…" In the blink of an eye, he reached for the gun again, shooting at the one who had deigned to ask that question.
Just five minutes ago, there were four of them alive in the room. Now, there are only two left.
"Ask no questions until I say so," he hissed. "Find out what they did to the young one."
He stood up and then, unfazed, left the room, meeting two security guards on the way, whom he approached.
"Get rid of the bodies in my office. Everything has to be perfect, spotless."
He left the building, feeling like he needed to let off steam after all this information.
Why did something have to get complicated after nine years!?
YOU ARE READING
Spider-Man | Doesn't Need Help
FanficHello, I'm Peter Parker, and I'm nobody. Peter Parker, according to himself and those who had the opportunity to meet him, was cursed-in the literal sense. A thirteen-year-old boy who has experienced far more in his short life than he ever shoul...
