Payback Time 4

A loud crash echoed through the cramped room as Charles hurled a chair at the wall, his face twisted in rage. His breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling with each sharp inhale. "That bastard," he spat, clenching his fists as he paced back and forth, his gaze fiery with indignation. "How dare he act like he's some big shot, trying to rub his new money in our faces."

Owen leaned back in his chair, looking unfazed by the outburst. He was slender, with a calm demeanor that always set him apart from the others. Slowly, he brought a hand to his chin, giving Charles a steady look. "You know, Charles, I wouldn't be so quick to assume he's pretending. From everything you've told me about that car, I highly doubt it's rentable." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "For all we know, he could've landed on some massive opportunity. Instead of turning this into a blood feud, maybe we should think about befriending him. He might just share a piece of that update."

Charles halted his pacing, shooting Owen a look of pure disdain. "Befriend him?" he sneered, as though the word itself was tainted. But something in Owen's calm, measured gaze made him falter, if only for a moment.

Gregory, who had been leaning against the wall, pushed himself up, flexing his fingers over a knife he had kept tucked in his pocket. His face was set in a menacing scowl, a mixture of anger and pride flashing in his eyes. "You weren't there, Owen," Gregory said, his voice low but deadly. "You didn't see what Charles and I did to that little worm. We left him to rot, to die. If it were me in his shoes, I'd want nothing to do with us either." He shot a dark glance at the skinny boy in the corner, who had started trembling, his gaze fixed nervously on Gregory.

The boy, whose name was Dele, shifted uncomfortably, rubbing his arms as though warding off a chill. "He's right, Owen," Dele muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes darted between Charles and Gregory, as if fearing they might turn on him. "We… we did him dirty. Way dirty. I don't know how he even survived, but if it were me, I wouldn't forgive us for what we did." He glanced at Gregory with an expression of fear mingled with guilt, recalling the vicious beating they'd given Ebilade. Dele's shoulders hunched slightly as if trying to make himself invisible.

Owen sighed, exhaling a puff of smoke, watching it curl lazily upward. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the group. "This is why I've always told you guys that violence isn't the answer," he said, his voice carrying a hint of exasperation. "But all of you are so quick to throw punches and swing knives that you've probably ruined any chance we had at getting out of this dump." His gaze lingered on Gregory, who only stared back, defiant.

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to Charles and Gregory, waiting to see what they'd say. Charles's expression hardened, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He glanced at Gregory, his expression determined, as if silently asking if he was ready for another round with Ebilade. Gregory's mouth twisted into a dark smile, and he gave Charles a small nod, his fingers still tracing the handle of his knife with a calm but dangerous confidence.

"I don't care how he got his money," Gregory finally said, his voice a low, menacing growl. "All I care about is that he survived after what I did. This time, I'll make sure he doesn't walk away." His eyes were cold, full of a violent resolve that made even Charles look slightly uneasy.

Charles, feeling the intensity in Gregory's gaze, swallowed hard but forced himself to nod in agreement. "Yeah… this time, we'll finish what we started," he said, his voice quieter but just as filled with anger.

Owen watched them, his expression unreadable. He took another slow puff of his joint, the smirk that tugged at his lips both amused and darkly intrigued. "Fine. I'll tag along, then," he said, a glint of interest in his eyes. "But I just want to see this guy for myself." His smirk widened, eyes narrowing in thought, as if he was already concocting a plan of his own. The tension in the room simmered as the others exchanged uncertain looks, wondering what exactly Owen had in mind.

Gregory returned Owen's smirk, accepting the unspoken challenge. In that moment, the line between allies and rivals blurred, each of them driven by a mixture of vengeance, curiosity, and a twisted desire for power that they'd come to see as their only way out.

Elsewhere

"Where are you going again?" Ebipade's voice cut through the silence as he stepped in front of the doorway, blocking his brother's path. His arm extended out, a mix of concern and determination tightening his jaw as he met Ebilade's gaze.

Ebilade paused, his lips pressed into a thin line, and his fingers twitched as if he was already itching to leave. He let out an exasperated sigh, narrowing his eyes at his brother. "I'm going to settle some scores," he said, irritation rippling through his voice. "The bait's been taken. He's probably with his gang or whatever they call themselves by now. I just want my payback. That's all." His tone was clipped, his gaze steely as he tried to step forward.

But Ebipade held his ground, his shoulders squared and arms crossed, a hard set to his expression. "I'm not letting you go back there just to put yourself in danger. This is too risky, even with that system of yours." His voice was firm, almost pleading, yet laced with a fierce resolve. Ebipade didn't truly understand what the system could do, but he saw it as nothing more than a means for financial gain—certainly not a ticket to picking fights with dangerous people.

Ebilade's expression shifted, his eyes narrowing, and a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. He tilted his head, challenging, eyebrows raised. "And just how do you plan to stop me?" he asked, his voice low, a hint of mocking curiosity woven into his tone.

Ebipade's jaw clenched tighter. "I'll lock you in if I have to," he replied, his voice almost a growl as he leaned forward, his gaze unwavering, a mix of worry and desperation flickering in his eyes.

Ebilade's smirk grew wider, almost mischievous. He didn't say anything, just looked at his brother with an unreadable expression. Then, without a word, he took a step forward, and his entire form blurred, a strange energy shimmering around him as he moved straight through Ebipade. His brother's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching as he tried to reach out, only for his hand to pass through empty air, feeling nothing.

Ebilade turned back with a calm smile, his eyes gleaming with a sense of power and quiet confidence. "See you later, blood," he said, his voice smooth, leaving Ebipade staring at him in stunned silence as he walked away.

Ebipade remained frozen, his mouth slightly open, his hand still hovering in midair where his brother had been a moment before. A wave of disbelief washed over him, his mind racing as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. The "system" was far more than he had ever realized.