Chapter 667 Loyal To The End
From the bottom of the stairs, deep inside the wine cellar, Francesco's men could hear the pitter-patter of Alexander's shoes on the stone surface of the stairs. The slow and calculated steps he took were like the gong of a bell announcing their doom.
For the three direct underlings to the Bianchi head, this was not something as fatalistic as for the other two. They were ready to give their life for him.
But for the two others? They were having second thoughts and regrets about having stayed here instead of surrendering.
Their minds were racing with all kinds of scenarios, wondering what kind of person could take down nine men in such a short time. They were thinking they were under attack by some kind of super commando.
But what kind of commando would walk down the stairs, making so much noise, practically announcing his arrival? A crazy one, maybe?
Or a supremely confident one?
When Alex reached the cellar floor, rows upon rows of wine racks greeted his sight. Enough to make any wine drinker wet himself.
But he was more preoccupied with the five men pointing their guns at him from a safe distance.
Seeing him unarmed, the three direct underlings wondered how he had reached here, with not so much as a scratch on his face. But the right-hand man to Francesco knew a threat when he saw one.
He opened fire on instinct, his brain telling him to kill the young man before him quickly, before it was too late.
This caused the other four to follow suit, and a barrage of bullets flew forward.
Alex stood there, taking the bullets directly with his body, as his skin turned a reddish hue. He was using another demon from the Counts, Marbas, who was directly under G?ap.
His strength was similar to G?ap's, being his body, with an unnatural resistance to any type of physical damage. With his strength, Alexander's body had become like that of an impenetrable tank.
Bullets bounced off his skin, barely leaving a mark, with a ricochet sound like the bullet had bounced off stone.
He stood there and endured for ten seconds until they had emptied their magazines. Then he grinned.
Alexander's body ballooned a bit, making him look like he had been injecting himself with steroids for years. His clothes tore off his chest, which didn't matter, since they were riddled with holes, anyway.
He started stepping forward, wordlessly, as his footfalls made the ground shake slightly, as if he now weighed a ton.
The five thugs hurriedly started reloading their guns. But one of them dropped his next magazine and decided to go Rambo style, pulling out a long knife.
He ran toward Alex, stabbing directly toward his gut. Unfortunately for him, thinking wasn't his strong suit.
If it had been, he would have realized that if bullets didn't penetrate his skin, a knife was even less likely to do so.
When the tip of his blade collided with Alex's skin, the blade bent to a ninety-degree angle.
Alex smiled at him, as he lowered his face to look into the man's eyes.
He felt the thug's soul leave his body in fear, before backhanding him away like a pimp to a prostitute who owed him money.
The man flew off, slamming through many wine racks, until he reached the stone wall, and splattered on it like a bug on a windshield.
The three underlings finished reloading at that moment, and watched in horror as the man exploded on impact on the wall. It was a gruesome sight, to say the least.
The split second they hesitated was enough for Alex to take a single step towards them, and suddenly be in their face. With a powerful punch downward, he turned the last goon into a paste, while splashing the three underlings with gore.
Francesco's right-hand man started backing away in fright.
Seeing him do so, Alex grinned even wider, and bear-hugged the other two to death, crushing their ribcages, and turning their insides into soup in the process, as they shat their innards.
The right-hand man couldn't back up very far, since he was almost at the door already.
Alexander looked him directly in the eye.
"Open the door. If you do, I might let you live."
His voice was gruff and low.
The man shook his head, refusing to obey. He still owed absolute loyalty to the Bianchi family.
But Alex had no time for arguing. So he punched him in the face, vaporizing his head across the wall and door.
He then unmelded and pulled out a small SIM card from his pants pocket. Surprisingly, it was left intact by the earlier barrage of bullets.
He saw a bio-metric panel to the right of the door, and rapidly found a small slot on the underside of it, where he could enter the SIM.
As he did, he heard Katherine chirping in his ear.
"Great job, you murderous psycho! I'm in. Now I can shut off all the countermeasures inside, giving you easy access to Francesco Bianchi. If you just give me two minutes, I will crack that open like a squirrel opening a peanut!"
Alex was feeling like she might be a bit too enthusiastic about this.
"No. Just open the doors. I want his measures to go off," he said, standing before the door.
He heard Katherine sighing loudly in his ear.
"But where's the fun in that? That'll only take me a few seconds. I wanted to play him the montage I did, with all the incidents with you, and then the scenes where you kill all his men."
"That is a waste of time. Weren't you the one who wanted me to get here quickly? I'm here. Now, open the door."
"Tch! You're no fun, mister. Fine, give me thirty seconds."
Alexander chuckled.
"Didn't you say a few seconds for the door?" he taunted.
"Shut up and let me have my fun!" she barked, the sound of keys clacking in the background.
She had launched a condensed version of her video, sad that she couldn't play up the gravitas of the man's situation. Katherine knew he was seeing it as they spoke, as she could see him inside there.
This was the only fun she would have, now that Alexander decided he was in a hurry to end things.
She took her sweet time cracking the door, taking a full minute, almost enough for her condensed video to end, before the door lock beeped in front of Alex.
"There. He's all yours," she said, turning the comms off.
She was content with taking a spectator seat from then on out. Her job was done.
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