"So this is how it’s going to be," Adam said, voice calm, almost bored. "You will tell the world everything you and your wife did. Every dirty thing. Every deal. Every lie."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Adam didn’t stop.
"But the most important part," he continued, eyes locked on them, "is how your wife killed her own daughter. How you helped cover it up. How you called it suicide and let people spit on her name."
Gasps broke out. Someone cried out. Someone else whispered a prayer.
Adam tilted his head slightly. "And don’t misunderstand me. I am going to kill you. That part is fixed."
Panic spread fast now.
"And after that," Adam went on, "every other politician like you. This whole circus you call democracy is done. You people move slow. You argue while people suffer."
He smiled faintly. "It’s time for monarchy. I’ll be your monarch. At least under me, things move fast. Clean. Humans won’t wait years for scraps."
Voices rose. Chairs scraped. Some tried to move back.
Adam lifted a hand.
Silence crept in again.
He looked at the couple. "So here’s the deal. Talk. Tell the truth. Right now."
He leaned closer. "Or you only make your death longer. And when I say longer, I mean painful."
The couple shook. Hands clasped together. Lips moving fast in prayer. Tears streaming. Words tumbling over each other with no sound.
Then it happened.
Voices boomed over everything.
"Attention. This building is surrounded."
Heads turned.
A sharp, confident voice carried through. "This is a joint international response. United States security. Allied forces present. You are surrounded on all sides."
More voices joined in, layered.
"Drop your weapon."
"There is no escape."
"Come out slowly with your hands visible."
Adam blinked once.
Then he laughed.
Not loud. Just amused.
"So fast," he said. "I was hoping they’d take longer."
A man near the front stepped forward, trying to speak, trying to negotiate.
Adam didn’t let him finish.
One movement.
One clean motion.
The man dropped.
Screams erupted. People stumbled back. Some fell.
Adam looked at the body, then shrugged.
"Guess that answers that."
He turned back to the shaking couple.
"I’ll go handle that mess outside," he said casually. "When I come back—"
He pointed at them.
"—I expect you to start talking."
His smile thinned.
"Or I start breaking fingers. One by one."
He turned away as panic exploded behind him.
And walked toward the waiting chaos like it was just another chore.
Outside
"Perimeter locked."
"East side covered."
"West is sealed."
"Rooftop teams in position."
"Confirm visual on the target?"
"I see him. Red suit. Walking out like he owns the place."
"That’s him?"
"That’s Adam."
"No way. Adam is dead."
"Say that again."
"I’m telling you, the Red Devil died eighteen years ago. Nuclear strike. Confirmed."
"Then explain why I’m staring at his face right now."
"Same face?"
"Same damn face. No scars. No age. Nothing."
"Is this some kind of stunt?"
"A clone?"
"A hologram?"
"You don’t walk like that if you’re a projection."
"Jesus... he looks young."
"How old should he be?"
"Forties. Maybe fifties."
"And he looks what, twenty-five?"
"Twenty-six at most."
"That’s not possible."
"Unless he’s not human."
"Don’t start that."
"I’m serious. People don’t come back from nukes."
"Ghost?"
"Don’t joke."
"I’m not joking. Look at him. He’s smiling."
"Why the hell is he smiling?"
"He doesn’t look scared."
"He’s not even looking at us."
"Who the hell walks into a surround like this?"
"The Red Devil."
"Shut up."
"Command, this is Alpha. Target is approaching the outer line."
"Hold positions."
"Repeat, hold positions."
"He’s waving."
"Is he waving?"
"He’s actually waving."
"What the hell..."
"Command, are we cleared to engage?"
"Negative. Await confirmation."
"Sir, this is the man who threatened world leaders inside."
"I know who he is."
"Then you know what he’s done."
"I know what he was."
"And what he is now?"
Silence.
"Command?"
"Still waiting."
"Sir, civilians are recording."
"Let them."
"Media drones are live."
"Good."
"He just stopped."
"Why did he stop?"
"He’s looking at us."
"He’s looking straight at us."
"Command... he’s smiling again."
"Target has no visible weapon."
"He doesn’t need one."
"Who said that?"
"I did."
"Who are you?"
"Someone old enough to remember what he did to Lagos State House."
"That was one night."
"One night that changed everything."
"Is it really him?"
"Yes."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because nobody else walks like that."
"Because nobody else looks bored in a gun line."
"Because he’s Adam."
"Command, request permission to fire."
"Negative."
"Why not?"
"Because if he’s real, bullets won’t stop him."
"That’s not protocol."
"Neither is a dead man walking."
Adam laughed.
"You people look confused," Adam said. "Did you expect me to rot?"
"Adam," someone shouted. "This is an international task force."
He tilted his head. "Congratulations."
"You are surrounded."
"I noticed."
"There is no escape."
"I’m not trying to escape."
"Drop to your knees."
Adam chuckled. "No."
"Put your hands up."
He raised one finger. "No."
"You’re outnumbered."
"I’ve been outnumbered my whole life."
A pause.
A nervous voice whispered, "Is he... is he really alive?"
Another answered, "I don’t know."
"Maybe this is a trick."
"Then why am I shaking?"
"Because you know."
"Know what?"
"That this ends badly."
Adam looked around slowly.
"So many uniforms," he said. "Different flags. Same fear."
"Last warning," a voice boomed. "Stand down."
Adam smiled wider. "You all keep saying that like it means something."
"Adam," another voice said, softer. "How are you alive?"
He stopped walking.
"Alive?" Adam repeated. "That’s the word you choose?"
Silence.
"I died," he said calmly. "That’s true."
People froze.
"And then," he went on, "I got bored of being dead."
Someone laughed nervously. "That’s not funny."
Adam looked at him. "I’m not joking."
A long pause.
"Are you a ghost?" someone whispered.
Adam shook his head. "Ghosts don’t bleed."
"Then what are you?"
He thought for a second. "Problem."
And so another massacre began and this time, it won’t make sense for them.