AN: New project up. Welcome to this new pit. I hope you will stick around for the new journey.
The sun was high up in Marico, the golden rays shining across the busy streets. There were vendors everywhere shouting about their merchandise till their voices were hoarse. Skewers of sizzling meat filled their streets with their aroma, the scent mingling with the smell of the salty sea. Tourists explored the streets with their cameras clicking and their chatter buzzing in the streets.
Suddenly, a sharp horn tore through the air, making heads turn in that direction to see what was going on. A green sports car was driving down the street, ignoring the zebra crossing. In the blink of an eye, a young man in his mid-twenties stepped up and yanked a small boy out of harm's way. The sports car braked sharply, making the tires screech. The driver had barely missed the two.
The young man slammed his palm against the hood with a loud thud. "Watch where the hell you are driving!" he yelled, fury flashing in his eyes.
A young woman rushed forward. She breathlessly called her son's name. Her face as white as a ghost, she knelt down while clutching her trembling son against her chest. The driver, brimming with anger, shoved open the car door, but before he could step out, the young man's boot slammed on the car door, closing it shut.
A crowd gathered, some yelling at the driver for his recklessness and others just watching the good show. The driver unleashed a barrage of curses and shouted countless threats. The young man was unfazed. He leaned against the car window, his voice low and sharp; he whispered something to him that made the color on the driver's face drain. The driver's face turned ashen, and fear flickered in his beady eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. He then stepped on the accelerator and sped away as though he was running for his life.
The woman got up with tears streaking her cheeks. "Thank you, thank you so much," she said, still embracing her son tightly like she was afraid he would be harmed again. "Say thank you, darling," she said to her boy, and the young boy's voice, small and shaky, said, " Thank you..."
The young man, hearing that sweet voice, melted his heart. The kid reminded him of his naughty nephew. His expression that had been cold just now instantly changed. He crouched down with a smile and took out a wrapped piece of candy from his pocket. "Next time, let your mum hold your hand when you cross the street, okay?" he said, ruffling the little boy's head. The boy nodded his head like a rattle, having been terrified by the ordeal. The young man handed the boy the candy and smiled before getting up to leave.
A woman standing behind a stall who had witnessed everything called out to the young man, her tone half scolding and half amused. "Marcel, are you starting fights again?"
Marcel turned to face her with a grin and said, "Which eye of yours saw me pick a fight, Auntie?" his tone was playful. The woman tsked softly as she placed a large plastic bag into Marcel's hands.
"It's lunch time already, you boys must be hungry," she said, her voice warm, but the weariness on her face was hard to ignore. Marcel took out his wallet and took out some money to pay for the food.
"What would we do without your delicious meals, Aunt?e," he teased with a sincere smile.
She pushed his hand away, refusing to take his money. "You always do this. No no no, this is me repaying you for last week."
Last week she ran into trouble. She had set up this stall to make money to feed her grandkids, but city officials visited her stall every other day, demanding she pay outstanding fees. There was no such thing as outstanding fees; it was just a way to extort money from them. To avoid trouble, she had paid them all this time, but that day, she had paid her grandson's medical expenses, so she really didn't have money. Using her as an example, they wrecked her stall, destroying everything. At that time, she stood on the side crying helplessly.
Just when she had lost hope, Marcel, who had bought food from her every week, intervened. She thought the matter had ended there, but the next day, Marcel dragged those men over by their collars and forced them to apologise to her. On top of that, he made them pay back the money they had extorted from her over the past weeks.
Marcel didn't allow her to give him food for free. He firmly placed the money on the counter and said, "If you don't want the money, then you can use it to buy your grandkids toys." His tone left no room for negotiation.
Looking at the money that Marcel had put on the counter, the older woman trembled in surprise. She yelled at him, saying, "You kid, this is too much money!" but Marcel didn't turn back, he kept walking as he raised his hand saying goodbye to her. As he walked, the plastic bag at his side swung.
Four minutes later, Marcel turned onto a quiet street and pushed the door open. Inside was a well-lit gym bustling with activity. A young man with pink hair looked up from the bench press. When he saw Marcel, he grinned like a fool and rushed over.
"Boss, you are back!" he exclaimed, his energy like that of a puppy happy its owner was back home. If he had a tail, it would have been wagging right now.
Marcel passed the plastic bag to Archie and said, "Share among yourselves," before walking towards his office at the back.
Archie's smile grew bigger as he held the plastic bag. "Thanks, boss. You know how to treat us well." Before he could even open it, a swarm of sweaty gym rats surrounded him, eager to grab the bag. Archic swarted them away while clutching the bag to his chest.
"Back up, back up, you filthy animals! There's a share for everyone!" he yelled, trying to fend them off.
One of the tall guys reached in too quickly, and Archie exploded on the spot, yelling, "Hey hey hey, you greedy bastard! You have no manners!" The gym erupted in laughter and chaos, as they scuffled ike a pack of wolves fighting over meat. Marcel ignored them. He pushed the door to his office, and his steps faltered. In his chair was a familiar figure. He was sitting with his tiny legs dangling and a pencil scratching furiously across a notebook. It was his lovely nephew, Leo.
"What did Uncle say about sitting in my chair," he said his voice stern like a teacher reprimanding a naughty student.
Leo looked up at him with a look of defiance in his eyes. He said, "But uncle you chair is more comfortable to sit on."
"Get up," Marcel ordered, but instead of listening to him, Leo stared at him with a stubborn look on his face that mirrored Marcel's. It was as though he was saying, 'Make me.'
Marcel accepted the challenge. He picked the boy up effortlessly and tossed him on the couch with a gentle thud. Leo burst out laughing. He wiggled on the couch as his uncle tickled him mercilessly.
"You want to act tough, huh? You want to act tough? This uncle will teach you." Marcel teased.
Leo screamed in between his laughter. "No, no, stop! Hahaha! I am going to pee."
Finally, Marcel let him go. He chuckled as he got off the couch, saying, "Will you behave from now on?"
Leo wiped away the tears of laughter from his eyes. With a beaming smile, he swore, "I will behave, I promise."
Marcel raised a brow as he asked, "Did you do your homework?"
Leo's smile faltered. He opened his backpack as she said, "I don't understand it at all. Uncle, can you please teach me?"
Marcel shook his head as he replied, "Your mother can teach you. I have work to do."
Leo pouted, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But she yells a lot when she is explaining it. Her veins pop out and everything."
Marcel leaned back into the backrest, recalling how he himself had been subjected to his sister's teaching methods. Just the thought of how she yelled at him while explaining algebra made his body tremble involuntarily. She had once told him he wasn't going to be all night until he got every answer right. It was fucking torture.
Marcel sighed and turned to look at Leo's expectant little face. He sat up straight and said, "Alright, let me teach you."
Leo jumped excitedly while yelling, "Uncle is the best." He took out his workbook quickly, just in case his uncle changed his mind.
Marcel ruffled his hair while asking, "Did you have something to eat at school?"
Leo nodded his head, saying, "I've already eaten. At lunch, we had braised pork and pudding. It was yummy."
"That's good," Marcel replied, while getting up to rummage through the snack drawer. He returned with a handful of packets, which were all Leo's favorites, and set them on the table. "Let's take a look."
Leo opened his textbook, and Marcel examined the questions with a stern expression. He soon understood the problems, and with his voice calm, he began to explain to Leo step by step. Watching him now, no one who had heard his name would believe that it was him.
His name was Marcello Verrochi, an illegitimate son of Rossario Verrochi. The Verrochi family empire was built on a shipping business that was twenty-five per cent legitimate, and the rest were illegal black-market trades. His grandfather, Cyrus Verrochi, ran the household with an iron fist. As an illegitimate grandson, Cyrus beat him under the guise of being taught a lesson. His true purpose was to mold him into a loyal dog for the Verrochi family.
Marcel put up with it for years. That was until he found an opportunity to escape. He went behind his grandfather's back and enlisted in the army. Cyrus was enraged, but he didn't have the power to unenroll him from the academy. Though he would end up deployed into countless war zones, it was better than staying in the Verrochi family. He had finally found some peace, but this peace didn't last.
But this peace didn't last long. His mother's untimely death dragged him back into the fold. The Varcano family, his maternal family, owed the Verrochi family a debt, and the Varcano family knew his weakness, and that was his half-sister. To free her, Marcel had bent his back for years, doing their bidding, bleeding for their schemes.
When the debt was finally paid, he took his sister, and they fled the country. He moved somewhere far away from his family's reach. It was a small tourist town called Marico. They got new identities, and he built a gym and a security company offering services to the wealthy. They lived a quiet, peaceful life, and he helped his sister raise her son.
Marcel leaned closer and pointed at the equation in the workbook. "Move this number and balance it out... you got your answer," he explained.
Leo looked confused, but his expression soon relaxed as he said, "Ohhh… I get it now."
Marcel chuckled as he clapped for him and said, "Good job, Le Le." The peace and happiness such moments brought him were what he had struggled for, for years. If only he knew that his life was about to take a dark turn.