The air in the closet felt stifling as Marvin adjusted his prosthetics, carefully pressing the edges of the fake jawline into place. He was meticulous, knowing any flaw could expose his true identity. But as the door creaked open, he froze.Marvin slowly turned, his breath catching as his eyes fell on three men blocking the doorway. Each of them gripped a machete, their faces set in cold, grim expressions. The faint gleam of steel in the dim light made his pulse quicken.Still, Marvin forced himself to remain calm. "Um, guys," he began, his voice was steady but wary, "I think you’ve got the wrong room. As you can see, I’m just a guest here, enjoying the party." He gestured lightly at his disguise, hoping to defuse the tension.The men didn’t move. Instead, they stepped forward in unison, their boots scraping against the wooden floor. Marvin’s heart pounded, but he refused to show fear.One of the men, taller than the others and clearly the leader, spoke in a low, measured tone. "We a

Marvin took a slow step forward, making them flinch. His voice dropped, calm but ominous, as if he were casually describing the weather. "You see, there’s a reason no one who tries to corner me lives to tell the tale. You think that my rivals are afraid of me only because of my schemes? No, gentlemen."His eyes flickered faintly, a subtle glow started forming at the edges. "They are afraid of what happens when I stop holding back."The faint glow from Marvin’s eyes wasn’t all—the air in the closet shifted. A low hum began to build, barely perceptible, but enough to make the machetes in the men’s hands tremble. Marvin wasn’t fully activating the Synapticore, but just enough to create the illusion of something catastrophic building.The leader’s smirk wavered, replaced by a flicker of unease. The other men shifted nervously, their grips tightening on their weapons as they exchanged uncertain glances. "What’s he doing?" one of the machete men hissed to the leader, with a cracking voice

Marvin’s grip tightened ever so slightly. He leaned in, his voice was a low growl that only Luiz could hear."You’re going to tell me everything," Marvin hissed. "Right here, right now."Luiz’s breath hitched, his face turned pale and drenched in sweat as he tried to muster a response. Luiz winced slightly, biting down on his lip to avoid crying out. Despite the pain, he forced himself to appear calm, glancing nervously at the surrounding guests.“What… wha… what do y-you mean?” Luiz stammered, his voice was shaky but low enough not to draw attention.Marvin leaned in closer, his lips near Luiz’s ear. His voice was cold and cutting, like ice slicing through flesh.“You can pretend all you like, but I am aware of your stance against me in my fight against Victor Vayne,” Marvin hissed. “Now tell me… how far has the news spread?”Luiz’s eyes widened in shock, and his lips trembled. “Marvin, no! What are you talking about? I haven’t betrayed you!” he whispered, his Spanish accent was thi

Luiz Tarejo hesitated, his palms were clammy as he gestured nervously toward the far end of the lavish hall. “The VIP lounge is through that door, Marvin… I mean, Mr. Woods. Please, this way.” His voice trembled slightly, betraying his unease.Marvin, alias Isaiah Woods, followed Luiz with steady, deliberate steps. His dark coat swayed with his movements, and the hat on his head added an air of mystery that made heads turn as they walked past the curious onlookers. Luiz led the way, occasionally glancing back at Marvin, his nervous energy was palpable.As they entered the lounge, the atmosphere shifted. The room was filled with elegantly dressed individuals seated around a grand table. Plates of exquisite dishes and sparkling glasses of wine were already in front of them, and lively chatter filled the air. The guests seemed relaxed, laughing and sharing stories, but their voices hushed when Luiz stepped in with Marvin behind him.All eyes turned to Marvin. His presence was command

Victor Vayne froze, still staring at the stiff, coiled snake on his plate. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his forced smile twitched. His mind raced, but he refused to lose face in front of his guests, no matter how strange or horrifying the situation seemed.The guests were equally stunned. Some sat back in their chairs, their faces pale and filled with uncertainty. A few whispered nervously to one another, glancing between Victor and the snake. Others shifted in their seats, as if preparing to leave the table at the slightest provocation.Marvin, however, remained completely calm. He wiped his mouth with a napkin, his expression was as composed as ever. It was as if the chaos unfolding before him was no more concerning than the meal he had just finished. His demeanor stood in sharp contrast to the tension gripping the room.Victor, desperate to restore control, raised a hand and cleared his throat loudly, forcing the murmurs to quiet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began,