The sound of the car's impact still echoed in the minds of those watching the scene from a distance, but Michael's eyes did not linger on the crumpled bodywork. He swept the perimeter with surgical coldness, filtering through the noise of the crowd of onlookers and focusing on the details of the environment. It was then that, among the shadows on the other side of the street, he caught a subtle movement: a slender and swift silhouette slipped into a dark passageway between two buildings.
Michael did not hesitate. He crossed the street at a brisk pace, accelerating into a run as he entered the damp alley. Raniel's silhouette maintained a calculated distance, advancing through a web of secondary alleys. The pursuit lasted for several minutes, a silent game of shadows until the path opened into a dead end, surrounded by tall walls of exposed brick and industrial dumpsters.
As he stepped into the center of the place, Michael realized that the figure had disappeared. The silence of the environment was almost absolute. However, when he began to turn his head to check his rear, a sharp whistle violently cut through the air. A tactical knife was coming straight toward his face. Without taking a step backward and without altering his facial expression, Michael raised his right hand and intercepted the blade in midair, catching it with extreme precision between his index finger and thumb.
From the deepest shadows at the back of the alley, the sound of clapping echoed. Raniel emerged from the darkness with a grin stretching from ear to ear, flanked by two imposing men with threatening physiques and intimidating stares.
— I knew you would come — Raniel said, letting out a sarcastic laugh. — Luring you to this isolated place was easier than I thought. Are you an idiot or what, Michael? Did you really think it would be a good idea to come after me completely alone?
Raniel made a sweeping gesture with his hand, presenting the pair of mercenaries beside him.
— Allow me to introduce my new companions. They weren't cheap, but I paid them very well.
Michael stared at the two men for a fraction of a second. He released the knife he was holding between his fingers, letting the metal fall to the ground with a dry clatter, and addressed the mercenaries with an unwavering calm:
— You two have nothing to do with this. Leave while you still have the opportunity.
The man on the left, a giant with broad shoulders, a thick neck, and fists the size of concrete blocks, let out a deep laugh that echoed off the brick walls.
— I'm not going anywhere, kid — the man sneered, taking a step forward.
— This is Boris — Raniel said, pointing at the giant. — Just so you understand the level of the situation, Michael... Boris has already fought a fully grown grizzly bear all by himself, without using a single weapon. And he won.
— It wasn't that difficult — Boris grumbled in his hoarse voice. He turned slightly away and pulled his thick shirt upward, revealing deep, disfigured marks stretching from his right shoulder down to his waist, eternal scars left by the beast's claws.
— And the other one beside him is Dante — Raniel continued, indicating the second man, a figure with an athletic build, cold eyes, and facial scars that conveyed the experience of a veteran assassin.
Raniel paused for a moment, placed a hand on his own left shoulder, and let out an amused sigh:
— Ah, yes... I almost forgot about my shoulder. I have to admit, that was an excellent move on your part while we were falling from that window.
At that moment, the reality of the situation dissipated for a fraction of a second, and the scene cut back to the exact second when both of them were falling from the fourth floor of the building.
The air cut against their ears during the free fall toward the vehicle's roof. While Raniel tried to grab Michael's jacket with all his strength to use him as the impact point, Michael's mind was operating at another speed. With absurd composure in midair, Michael did not try to break free in panic. Instead, he grabbed Raniel's wrist, rotated his own body at the exact angle of the trajectory, and applied a millimeter-perfect leverage against his rival's shoulder joint. The sound of the bone dislocating from its socket occurred one millisecond before both of them collided with the metal roof of the car, neutralizing Raniel's ability to hold onto him during the collision.
Back in the alley, the memory of that moment still seemed recent. Raniel laughed at his own situation. He held his dislocated elbow with his opposite hand, slightly hunched his posture, and, with a dry, quick, and precise movement, pushed his arm back into place.
A loud, hollow crack resonated through the enclosed alley. The bone snapped back into the joint. Raniel did not even blink or show a single drop of sweat from the pain; he simply adjusted his jacket, rotated his recovered arm to test its mobility, and fixed his insane, hungry gaze back on Michael.