Zero: God Of Mercenary

Chapter 3: Oliver’s Identity

“Oh my God! Denver!” Trisha gasped, dropping to her knees to check on him. “You bastard! What did you just do?”

“You should be thankful that’s all I did. I could have done worse,” Oliver replied coldly.

His face showed pain, but he held it in.

“How could you lie to me for so long, Trisha? After everything I did for you…”

“Oh, spare me. I gave you the chance to be my husband.” Trisha sneered.

“Do you even realize what kind of life I could have had if I hadn’t been tied to you?”

Each word was like a slap across Oliver’s face.

“I could have lived a life of luxury. But what did I get? A worthless husband who couldn’t even find a decent job,” she added, her voice dripping with scorn.

“I deserve someone like Denver, someone who can give me the life I should have had.”

As she spat out these words, Oliver tightened his hands, struggling to keep his composure.

"I gave you everything I had...

“No matter what luxury you wanted, I worked extra shifts just to buy it for you.

“You wanted more spending money; I gave you every cent I earned…”

Trisha cut him off with a sharp, bitter laugh.

“That wasn’t enough—"

“Everything you had? That was nothing.”

She grabbed something directly throw to his face.

“From now on, you’re no longer welcome in my mansion. Don’t ever show your face here again!” she ordered.

Oliver’s jaw clenched, barely holding back his anger.

“Your mansion? You went broke! I bought it back—with my money!”

“So what?” Trisha laughed, "It's still my mansion, with my family name on it. "

Oliver doesn't know what to say. He had promised her father that he would always take care of her.

“Don’t you even have a heart?” He finally let out words.

Trisha chuckled sarcastically.

“Just get the fuck out of here. I’m finally going to be a Mrs. Rich.”

Oliver recalled her past moments of tenderness and friendliness.

He thought they loved each other. Now he realized they were all just to deceive him into giving her more money.

“You will regret it, Trisha,” He said.

Trisha frowned, looking at Oliver with disgust.

“The only thing I regretted was not finding a rich guy sooner.”

Oliver left the mansion. He walked to the streets, not knowing where to go.

The sky gradually grew dark. Oliver was in a daze, barely aware that he was being surrounded by people.

“Oh, shit.”

Much to his bad luck, it was his co-workers.

“Wow. The great Oliver is right here,” Jackson spoke sarcastically, holding a baseball bat in his right hand.

“Finally, just you and me," he added with a wicked grin.

The group of eight, with Jackson at the helm, burst into mocking laughter.

Oliver tried to sidestep them and continue his way, but three bulky figures stepped in, blocking his path.

"I'm not looking for a fight," Oliver stated, his voice steady and resolute.

"Too bad. We are," Jackson replied with a sneer. "Our boss was real upset with you."

With a sly glance at his crew, Jackson gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

“It would be great to beat you up, not to mention getting 5 bucks for it."

" Teach this punk a lesson!" one of the thugs bellowed, and as one, the group lunged towards Oliver.

Oliver reacted on instinct, his body a well-oiled machine of defense.

Each of his strikes was a bullet of precision and raw power, taking down his opponents with a series of swift, brutal punches.

60 seconds later, the street was littered with the unconscious forms of Jackson's men.

Oliver wasn't sure where his fighting prowess originated, but it felt like a muscle memory etched into his very being.

"Let me through, and you won't get hurt,"

Oliver growled, his gaze locking with Jackson's—the only one left on his feet.

Jackson quaked in his boots, taking a shaky step backward.

"N-No... Stay away from me."

“Oliver!” a voice cut through the chaos.

It was the woman from earlier.

Oliver snapped back to reality, only to find his hand wrapped tightly around Jackson’s neck, cutting off his air supply.

“Damn!” He released his grip, staggering back in shock. “What the hell just happened?”

Before anyone could answer, the woman placed a quick hand hit on Jackson’s neck, making him unconscious.

“Even if he tries to tell anyone about this, they won’t believe a word,”

She said to Oliver, her voice steady and assured.

“Besides, dealing with trash like him is beneath you. It’s like swatting a fly.”

Melissa remarked, a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"I saw your fight. It's like your soul remembers the creed you lived by, even if your mind doesn't,"

Oliver met her gaze, his eyes alight with curiosity.

"You... Do you really know me?"

“As of now, I know you more than you know yourself,” she replied with a confident tilt of her head.

She produced a business card from her pocket and handed it to him.

"I'm Melissa, and I'm a hacker in the Legion."

Oliver examined the card, his brow knitting in concentration as he found the company name strangely familiar.

“The Legion is the largest mercenary company, not just in the country, but all over the world. Our work involves protecting clients and, when necessary, eliminating threats,” Melissa explained.

Her eyes gleaming with a fierce determination. With a sly smile, she continued,

“Everyone’s been trying to track you down for years, but I’m glad I found you first. You’re still good at hiding.”

Oliver's brow furrowed in confusion.

“Why would you be looking for me?”

Melissa closed the distance between them, looking Oliver in the eye.

“Because you, Oliver Hunt, was known as Zero, the God of Mercenaries.”