From Prisoner To God Of War

Carlos Gets A Doze of Payback

With little chaos caused, the music was still heavy in the air, strippers danced with caution and a few onlookers who saw what had happened gave way for Lucas as he stepped in and combed his gaze around.

Although the strippers craved his manliness and thick biceps, they feared to approach the fierce-looking man.

Every one gave a narrow path in the crowd as soon as he approached. With his fist tight, he found the casino hub, knowing Carlos could be there. But to his dismay he saw about ten armed thugs, who had received information about his bloody arrival.

Noticing the pack of cards and bundles of bills on the table, he took a seat and kicked the cards and bills away.

“Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you man?” one of the players fumed.

“Why did you do that shit?” another yelled.

And he ignored them with a hard grin on his face. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey he poured a shot for himself and gulped down his throat before belching arrogantly.

And they covered their nose in irritation.

“Where is Carlos?”

He groaned and poured more drink, daring to get drunk. Yes, Lucas fought even more brutal whenever he was drunk. Grabbing more bottles he guzzled down the drink. “I say where is Carlos?”

“Who the hell are you to meet our boss?” one queried and the rest of them corked their rifles ready to shoot.

Lucas made no further comment, he grabbed the large bottle of whiskey and began to gulp down his throat.

 Limit reached, he grabbed the ankle of the one that yelled, and yanked off his foot.

“Ah! My leg!” the now one legged man wailed at the top of his voice leaving the rest shivering and pulling back.

Armed with the foot of his victim he asked, again, “For the last time where is Carlos?” he fumed.

“Go to hell, dog!” another cursed and like a robot, he turned his gaze to his second victim, and slammed the bloodied foot on his head with several punch in his face. Grabbing the fellow he snapped his wrist and gave him a dazing kick which left his face slamming in the butt of a stripper.

“Oh my god! He fights like beast!” a man mumbled as the crowd.

Chaos had already been raised in the casino; every one began to scamper for safety as they made out of the building.

Sensing danger, the armed thugs corked their rifles while the rest pulled out their swords. Furiously they charged at him.

“Welcome to doom days, motherfucker!” he caused and gave one a sledge punch before using his face to wipe the tables around, as the bottles smashed on the floor. With the bloodied foot he struck several of them and struck out the eyes of one.

With a furious kick, he flawed them and then one stubborn thug lunged with his rifle shooting sporadically, and he caught the bullets with his open palms and tossed them away. Flying in the air, he sent a rugged kick on the heart of the shooter, leaving his face slamming in the butt of another stripper.

“How does that smell huh? Answer me!” He strangled his neck “Where is Carlos?”

“Ah fuck! Who the hell are you? Please, don’t do this? I beg of you?” his victim pleaded.

“Only if you show me Carlos. Where is he?”

Lucas groaned and broke his ankles and with a furious pull he yanked off one of his hands.

“Ah, fuck. Oh lord! Oh go….d” his victim wailed at the top of his voice.

Just then a rod slammed on Lucas’s shoulders and he stayed put allowing the thugs to keep hitting him. The thug seeing that the impact wasn’t felt, didn’t give up, he kept hitting Carlos until he got to his limit.

The rod snapped.

Lucas turned his crimson face to his offender and gave him several punches in the belly until his fist pushed in and came out through the other side.

“Jesus is an American!” a thug exclaimed. “Everybody run!” the thug alarmed.

And everyone began to vacate the building so fearfully that they collided with one another.

He noticed one of the thugs tossed a sizable explosive at him and with a furious kick, he tossed it back at the thug and the fellow got exploded instantly. He grabbed a bottle close by and tossed at another and his head got smashed.

With a dive in the air, he dazed him a kick and grabbed his balls. “Your balls or Carlos? Where is he?”

“Boss, Carlos, bo…ss” the fellow gasped, as he clenched his jaw each time he squeezed his balls. “I … I …I will tell…I,” he pleaded with teary eyes, “In the bunker. Yes he is in the bunker in the northeast.” His hands shivered.

“Good boy,” Lucas groaned, and with his elbow, he gave him a punch in the throats and he dropped dead.

Pouncing on the window like a cat, he stared down to his bike and dived at it landing perfectly well without missing a foot.

A siren could be heard from afar as everyone ran for their lives.

With a press on the device, the casino went up in flames of explosion. And he rode off to the bunker.