Page 10 of The Chameleon

The room was quiet. No one dared to make a sound or get in the way of Ares and the wrath he was about to unleash.

“Who found him?” Ares asked, eyes fixed on the man who had tried to fuck him up the ass.

“I did,” a man Ares recognized as Joris’s bartender replied. It appeared that Joris’s men were pulling double duties.

“And the other guy?” Ares asked, turning his attention back to the piece of shit sobbing on his knees.

“Already disposed of him,” the man said, arms folded across his puffy chest.

Ares got the sense that the man was trying to impress him with his take-charge attitude. And why shouldn’t he? Getting in Ares’s good graces was a smart move for any man.

“So, what was your plan? Steal a few crates from my shipment and shortchange Joris on the delivery? Did you think they wouldn’t notice that their delivery was a little light?” If there was one thing that Ares demanded, it was respect. And stealing from Ares was the biggest show of disrespect in his view.

An example would have to be made of this man. The criminal underworld needs to know what happens to people who disrespect Ares. His reputation and career had been built on fear and respect. If criminals didn’t fear you, they didn’t respect you.

And clearly, this man didn’t respect Ares.

The man shifted his weight on his knees. He was bleeding from his head, and snot dribbled down the ends of his nose.

The man looked pathetic. He sniveled.

“Pl-please… Please, Mr. Ares.” The man’s voice was weak and tired.

People like this man made Ares sick. They pretended to be all tough and gangster, then the second they were bleeding and about to be murdered, they were all tears and whimpers. Talk about pathetic.

“Toughen up and grow some balls, man. At least die with a little self-respect and dignity,” Ares barked.

Over his shoulder, he heard Joris give a snort, no doubt trying to contain his laughter. He liked Joris. The man might be young and still have a lot to learn, but he was loyal. He treated Ares with reverence and respect, and he was always willing to do whatever Ares asked of him.

Of course, it could also be the fact that the man was terrified of Ares and didn’t want to end up at the bottom of a lake anytime soon. But Ares chose the more positive option.

“Did you get back all the guns that this little prick stole?” Ares asked the man who caught this sniveling piece of shit.

“Yeah, we got them back. Also took the hundred Gs this man was about to be paid for our product.”

“Good. So at least you were well compensated for your troubles. I’m sorry that this shit happened to you. I assure you that this is not how I run my business.”

“We had no worries, Ares. Never doubted you or your business for a sec,” Joris responded. “We just called you, as I know you like to handle shit like this yourself.”

Joris was right. Betrayal must be punished, and Ares believed in being the one to deliver that punishment whenever possible.

“Thank you, Joris. A man is nothing without his reputation, and right now, I would like to rectify mine.”

Ares pulled a gun from inside his coat pocket and proceeded to attach a silencer to the end.

Even though everyone in this facility was well aware of what was about to happen, Ares still chose not to disturb the neighbors… however far they might be. It was the middle of the night after all. Why should the neighbors be woken up because this piece of shit decided he fancied a bullet in the head?

Yes, Ares was courteous like that. A real gentleman, if you will.

The man kneeling on the plastic became hysterical when he saw the gun. Begging and pleading and crying.

It’s in the last few minutes of a man’s life that you really get to see what they are made of.

Little men should not play at big men's games if they aren’t willing to pay the consequences.

“You knew what happens to those who betray me. Yet, still, you chose to steal from me,” Ares reminded, taking a step forward and raising his gun toward the man’s forehead.

The man let out a scream as the bullet exited Ares's gun and found its target in the center of the man’s head.

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