NEMESIS

Chapter 13

VICTORIA GARCIA

The things I would do for McDonald's right now.
I know I know this isn't an appropriate thing to say right now but I am hungryyy.

Anyways where were we?

Oh right, Elijah just fucking snitched on me. That fucker really just had to reveal my identity to the whole world.
And now a few thousand people are staring at me , whispering, pointing, glaring. Some even took out their guns.

But I ain't gonna let him win this.
I quickly walk up to the stage and grab a microphone.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen, I am Victoria Garcia as you may know. You all just received pretty shocking new I know but let me clear things up.
Yes, I am nemesis, but nemesis is just a title, that has been given to me. In real life I am so much fucking worse than you would expect. I have earned my title and I will prove it to anyone who dares to stand in my way. I will kill and torture to get my way. Don't let yourself be deceived by my appearance or my charm." I wink at the crowd before quickly taking my gun and shooting Elijah in his chest, making everyone gasp and take their guns out.

Obviously he isn't dead yet, just passed out.

"Careful with the guns ladies and gentlemen. I have hundreds of men stationed at every entrance. If you try to hurt me, your going to die." At my command hundreds of armed men walk into the main room "Listen, pick your side. In about 2 minutes the Russians are going to be here, shooting the whole place down. So if you like your life, pick my side and you can peacefully exit this gala right now without any complications. If you pick their side your going to simply die .Have I made myself clear?" After hearings my words everyone grabs their belongings and quickly walks out.

I order a group of Italian soldiers to grab Elijah and bring him to our warehouse. I still need to torture him.
Out of the corner of my eye I can see my brothers walking up to me , enraged might I add.

But before any of them can open their mouths tho, shots are fired everywhere.

I guess they finally arrived.
Countless men storm into the room, armed to the teeth.

And then hell breaks loose.
I quickly run into the gunfire. Wouldn't wanna miss out on the fun now do we?

A Russian man lungs at me, and I sidestep his attack, using his momentum against him to send him crashing into the wall.
Before I can catch my breath, another assailant rushes forward. I pivot on my heel, delivering a swift kick to his midsection. He stumbles back, momentarily winded. The taste of victory surges within me, fueling my determination.

As the men close in, I rely on my training and instincts. I duck under a punch and deliver a precise jab to another man's ribs. His grunt of pain is followed by a quick strike to his jaw, and he crumples to the ground.

A barrage of fists come my way, and I weave through them, feeling the air move around me as my movements become fluid and instinctive. I deflect a punch, seize an opportunity, and managed to trip one of the men, sending him crashing to the ground. Each successful move brings me a step closer to proving that I can hold my own against their collective might.
A man lungs at me with a machete in his hand and I sidestep his swing, using his own weapon to disarm him.
The machete clangs to the ground, and I grab it, wielding it as my own. The remaining men hesitate, momentarily unsure of how to proceed.

My breath is heavy, but my resolve is unyielding. I circle them, the machete a silent warning of my determination. One by one, they try to encircle me, but I keep them at bay with calculated strikes and careful footwork.
Time seems to blur as the fight continues, the sound of grunts and clashes filling the air. My muscles ache, and sweat drips down my brow, but I push through the fatigue. My movements grow more precise, my strikes landing with greater impact.