Metro Man Novels & Stories

) he asked with a thick Italian accent. The men glanced at Isabella. "dove scusa capo ma questa cagna ci stava dando filo da torcere" (where sorry Capo but this bitch was giving us trouble) one of them said as the man shakes his head. "Sono circondato da idioti, mettila in macchina, i jet aspettano e dobbiamo riportarla in Sicilia in tempo per il compleanno del Don, altrimenti Giovanni ci ucciderà, ma prima che lo faccia ti ammazzo fino all'ultimo imbecilli"(Im sorrounded by idiots, get her in the car, vthe jets waiting and we need to get her back in sicily in time for the Don's birthday if not then Giovanni will kill us, but before he does I'll kill every last one of you imbeciles) the man

* Lawrence * The noise of the city fell away the moment her voice reached me. Jana. She is fragile but determined, she is like a glass that had learned to hold fire without shattering. I sat back in my chair, the phone pressed close to my ears even after we spoke, her words threading into me heavier than any contract on my desk. Marta is an old employee. Her name alone carried years of Magnolia resort in it, the bones of the resort, the memory of linens folded tighter than secrets.

Marco hasn't stepped out of the back room since our return. He’s perched cross-legged, atop the table encircled by laptops and a ring of golden handprints he made from his own blood. His scars have turned gold shining steadily without any flicker. He. Eats nor sleeps. He remains silent except when communicating in code. I come across him at 04:11 fixated on one line, on his final active screen: ROOT@CITY:~# whoami isla_valentina_kane He glances up as I come in.

All he knows is that the crash left me infertile. “You know what I do for a living, so that in itself is a daft question. But yeah, I’ve not long got in. Now come on, you have a meeting to start.” I groan out and stifle a yawn as I take the mug and sip the goodness. Andros works for his long-time friend. Matteo DeAngelis. Matteo is the mafia king. I have never met him or know how the two of them met, but Andros and I live in his gated community.

Mother told me to never use my power for bad things. Someone walked into the room I was placed in. A man. He was the most handsome man I have seen, with a warm smile. He was holding a bowl and rag in his hand. I didn't sense any sinister vibes from him yet I still I cowered away. That moment was the beginning of everything. He took care of me and helped me back on my feet. He said his name was River and he too left home to explore the lands. I was happy to have encountered a person similar to me. We spent time together and when we parted, I thought it was it.

This is my city, and I will die before I let anyone take it from me. The quiet hum of the city outside seemed almost mocking, a fragile peace teetering on the edge of chaos. But Vito was ready. The game was heating up, and he wasn't about to lose. In the dimly lit room, Marco's phone buzzed faintly, signaling an incoming call. He answered swiftly, pressing it to his ear.

Turning around with my eyes still fixed on the building, my body bumped into something strong. “Ouch!” My fingers brushed my forehead as my eyes slowly moved up. They meet with the charming amber eyes of a 6’2 tall man. He has well-defined features and a perfect body build. He smelled like fine wine. Very intoxicating. He had some men in black suits standing behind him. But they look too good to be addressed as mobsters. “Are you just going to keep looking at me without a proper apology?” His head leaned closer and I flinched.

"Gordan. You know full well who the hell we are!" barked Jackson. He was seething upon seeing his girlfriend Kitana on the ground thanks to Gordan. If not for Henry and Holly standing guard, he would have lunged at Gordan. "That's right. We are the Connors, damn it. We still run Metro City... and the thing is, our business here has nothing to do with you, or your crazy friends." said Margaret. "Maybe not... but your business is with me!"

Martin was there too, looking equally serious. "What's going on?" I asked, sitting down. Victoria slid a photograph across the table. It was a surveillance image—grainy, black and white, taken from a security camera. It showed a man walking through an airport, a baseball cap pulled low over his face. "Do you recognize him?" Victoria asked. I studied the photograph. There was something familiar about the way he moved, the set of his shoulders, the way he carried himself. "No," I said. "Who is he?"

“We’re doing everything we can...” I yank him by the collar. “I don’t want to hear that, it’s either you bring her back to life or you lose your life.” He swallows nervously. “Do you understand!” I yell. “Y….ye..yes sir.” He stammers. “I’ll come get you if anything changes.” He walks away quickly. His shoes squeak on the tile. And I’m alone in the hallway once again. I’m Dante Moretti. A man feared by half the city. A man who can make people disappear with a phone call. A man who owns buildings, judges, cops.