The Castaway Supreme

Chapter 2: The Beggar Strikes Back

The bald thug blinked his eyes in shock. He pulled on the iron pipe with all his strength, but it did not move even an inch. Marcus held the cold metal with just three fingers of his right hand. 

His grip was tighter than a steel vice. The blood was still dripping down his face, but his eyes were completely calm. They were not the eyes of a beggar anymore. They were the eyes of a king.

“What are you doing. Pull it back and crush him.” Kane shouted from behind, his face twisted in anger.

The bald thug grunted, his face turning bright red as he used both hands to pull the pipe. Marcus let out a soft breath. Deep inside his brain, a dark door flew open. 

A massive wave of memories crashed into his mind. He did not remember his past name yet, but his body remembered how to fight. His muscles tightened. His bones popped. His old, hidden fighting habits woke up instantly.

Marcus released his grip on the pipe suddenly.

The bald thug was pulling so hard that when Marcus let go, the thug flew backward from his own force. He stumbled over a wooden chair and crashed heavily onto the floor.

The second thug, a tall man with a thick wooden club, rushed forward with a wild yell. He swung the heavy club horizontally, aiming directly for Marcus’s ribs.

Marcus did not step back. His feet moved in small, precise circles on the dirty concrete. It was a perfect military movement. He slipped inside the thug’s wide swing, getting so close that he could smell the man's foul breath. Before the wooden club could touch his shirt, Marcus slammed his left palm upward into the thug's chin.

A loud bone-cracking sound echoed through the diner.

The tall thug’s teeth slammed together so hard that blood squirted from his mouth. His eyes rolled back into his head, and he dropped to his knees like a sack of wet potatoes. The wooden club rolled away across the floor.

The bald thug got up from the floor, roaring like a mad bull. He did not use the pipe this time. He threw a wild, heavy punch straight at Marcus’s nose.

Marcus leaned his head to the side by just two inches. The fist missed his face completely. In the same second, Marcus grabbed the thug’s extended wrist with his left hand and his elbow with his right hand. He twisted the arm in opposite directions with a quick, brutal snap.

Another sharp crack filled the room.

The bald thug let out a high-pitched scream of agony. His elbow was bent entirely the wrong way. His bone was broken into two pieces beneath his skin. Marcus did not show any pity. 

He kicked the back of the thug’s knee, forcing the heavy man to crash face-first onto the hard floor. The thug lay there, groaning and clutching his broken arm, unable to move.

It took less than ten seconds to destroy the two brutal fighters.

Peter stood behind the counter, his mouth wide open. He forgot to breathe. Clara stopped crying, her hands covering her mouth in total disbelief. Was this really Marcus. Was this the same quiet man who spent two years chopping onions and washing dirty plates without ever complaining.

Kane stepped back, his leather jacket shaking. The gold chain around his neck rattled against his chest. His face was completely white, stripped of all his previous arrogance. He looked at his two biggest men groaning in pools of spit and blood on the floor. Then he looked up at Marcus.

Marcus took one slow step forward. The blood from his temple had dried on his cheek, making him look like a terrifying demon from a nightmare.

“You,” Kane stuttered, pointing a shaking finger at Marcus. “What are you. You are not a beggar. Who sent you.”

Marcus did not answer. He just kept walking. Every step he took felt like a heavy hammer hitting Kane’s chest.

Kane felt a primal fear that he had never felt before in his entire life. He knew that if this man touched him, he would not survive. He dropped his hands and turned around. 

He ran toward the front door of the diner like a scared dog. He tripped over the doorway, scrambled back to his feet, and pushed his way out into the street.

“This is not over.” Kane screamed from the sidewalk, his voice cracking with terror. “I will bring the whole gang. I will burn this place to the ground and kill you all.”

He did not even look back as he sprinted down the muddy alley, disappearing into the dark slums.

The diner became completely silent. The only sound was the low hum of the old kitchen refrigerator and the soft groans of the two broken thugs on the floor.

Marcus stood in the center of the room. The burning rage in his heart began to cool down, but his head felt like it was going to split open. The blow from the iron pipe was finally taking its toll. 

Thousands of images were spinning wildly inside his brain. He saw giant glass skyscrapers that touched the clouds. He saw rows of expensive black cars. He saw thousands of people in luxury suits bowing down to him, calling him by a name that made the whole world shake.

“Marcus.” Clara cried out.

She ran out from behind the counter, her eyes filled with deep worry and gratitude. She did not care about the blood or the danger. She just wanted to help the man who had risked his life to save her from those monsters. “Marcus, you are bleeding so much. Please let me help you.”

She reached out to touch his arm.

But before her small hand could touch his sleeve, Marcus felt a sharp, stabbing pain pierce straight through the center of his brain. It was so intense that his vision went completely black for a second. His legs turned into jelly.

He lost his balance and collapsed heavily to his knees on the cold concrete floor, clutching his head with both hands.

Clara gasped, dropping to her knees right beside him. “Marcus. Stay with me. Father, help him.”

Marcus could not hear her voice anymore. The loud ringing in his ears turned into a deep, booming echo that drowned out everything else. The dark wall in his mind was completely gone now. The final, massive piece of his memory locked into place, revealing his true identity.

He was not a beggar. He was not a nobody from the slums.

His true name roared through his soul like thunder. He was Christian Sterling. 

He was the undisputed master and trillion-dollar head of the Sterling Financial Empire, the most powerful family in the entire world.