Chapter 4: The Bait
"Hello, Chief Daniels, welcome. Please have a seat."
Marcus greeted him with a smile, noticing the slight perspiration on the other man's forehead.
Looks like this guy is motivated by money.
"Hello, Mr. Blackwood. I came straight here after receiving the call—didn't have time to change into something more formal. My apologies."
Daniels sat on the sofa, his mustached face beaming with anticipation as he looked at Marcus.
Like an eager retriever waiting for a treat.
"It's fine, Chief Daniels. Actually, I prefer it this way."
Daniels hesitated, then said, "So..."
"Right, here's the situation. On my way home today, I was ambushed by a group of gang members. They even damaged my car. I'm deeply concerned about public safety in our community, so I've decided to donate some funds to the department for improvements."
As he spoke, Marcus took one of the five pre-written checks from the table and pushed it towards Daniels.
"Mr. Blackwood, are you alright? These street thugs are like weeds—you pull some out, but more always grow back. It's impossible to eliminate them completely."
"Don't worry, when I get back, I'll increase patrols in your area to ensure these scumbags don't show their faces again."
Daniels held the check, knowing full well that a few gang members were nothing compared to the amount on the check. There were definitely other requests coming.
"Chief Daniels, that's a minor matter. I invited you here today mainly to ask for your help in locating a few people. Here are their names—$100,000 per person, and if you have news by tonight, I'll add another $100,000 per person."
Marcus said, handing over a prepared slip of paper.
The slip listed four names: Kirsty Cotton, Larry Cotton (father), Frank Cotton (uncle), and Father Thomas McKenna (a priest at a local church).
Marcus couldn't recall Kirsty's stepmother Julia's maiden name, but knowing her father's name was enough to confirm this was the Kirsty he was looking for.
Father McKenna didn't appear in the first film, but in the extended universe comics, he was a member of the "Order of the Gash" organization, and also part of Marcus's plan.
If Father McKenna existed, it would confirm that this wasn't just the world of the first film, but an expanded universe that combined the movies and comics.
"Mr. Blackwood, may I ask why you're investigating these people?"
Daniels took the note and glanced at it. This matter was simple for him, but as chief, he still asked out of professional habit.
"Don't worry—since I invited you here, it's certainly not for anything illegal or criminal."
Daniels nodded, glancing reluctantly at the four remaining checks on the table.
"Alright, I'll get back to you by tonight at the latest. I'll head back now."
After seeing Daniels out, the butler returned to Marcus.
"Sir, the private investigators you requested have been contacted. Investigating just a few people doesn't need to cost this much—even one percent would be enough."
"Of course I know, but it's extremely important, and it's worth the expense."
Marcus understood, but only by quickly locating these people and confirming the timeline could the remaining two matters proceed.
Seeing Marcus's attitude, Henderson understood that the remaining matter concerning packaging and promoting Marcus had to be handled with utmost care.
By evening, Marcus had received a reply from the chief.
Kirsty and her father and stepmother were currently in neighboring Brooklyn.
Frank had taken a morning flight from JFK Airport two days ago to Morocco.
More importantly, Father McKenna had been found—he truly existed.
He worked at St. Michael's Cathedral, 400 miles away from the estate. There were many people named Thomas McKenna, but only one was a priest.
It seemed the first part of the story hadn't even begun yet, but it was coming soon. When Frank returned to the States, the story would officially start, and everything needed to be done quickly.
Marcus mentally ran through every contingency plan he could think of, hoping everything would go smoothly. He had finally been given a second chance at life, and he was determined to survive; it couldn't possibly end like this.
After declining dinner invitations from several socialites, including Victoria, Amanda, and Catherine, Marcus finally got a good night's rest.
Three days later.
At St. Michael's Cathedral, Marcus was talking with Father McKenna.
Looking at the brown-haired, bearded, and well-groomed priest before him, who could have imagined that he would later become a broken man struggling with faith?
"Father McKenna, I'm ready. As agreed, the exhibition is being held today at the cathedral entrance."
Marcus held up his wrist and checked the time.
"Mr. Blackwood, I've seen your work. I hope it can serve as a warning to the world. I don't know if what I'm doing is right or wrong."
McKenna began to pray devoutly before the crucifix on the wall, ignoring the commotion outside the cathedral.
Father McKenna, if you knew what happens to you later, you'd thank me. Maybe you should be praying to me instead of that cross.
Marcus scoffed at the priest's behavior, silently thinking to himself before turning and walking towards the door.
"Mr. Blackwood, we heard you received divine inspiration in a dream that led you to create this rare piece?"
"Sir, could you explain the inspiration behind this work?"
"As a young artist, what are your upcoming plans?"
A group of reporters surrounded Marcus in the area set up next to the cathedral, bombarding him with questions.
A glass display case covered with a red velvet cloth was brought up and placed on the exhibition stand. Amidst the expectant gazes of the crowd, the cloth was removed.
Inside was a crystal-clear sphere with red liquid flowing within, like ceaselessly churning lava.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the 'Eternal Flame,' created based on my vision of damnation."
"The ceaseless flow of fire within represents the true nature of hell—the endless, relentless burning."
"The reason I'm unveiling this work near the cathedral today is to use the flames of perdition to dissuade people from being misled and falling into its fires."
Marcus stood on the red-carpeted platform, speaking eloquently.
In reality, this crystal ball was just an ordinary art piece he had commissioned overnight at a high price; it had no real artistic value whatsoever.
The so-called press conference and the instant advertising blitz throughout the surrounding area were merely a matter of money.
Everything was designed to convey the meaning represented by this "Eternal Flame."
As the press conference ended, it was already evening. The reporters had returned to their newsrooms with their compensation, and the onlookers gradually dispersed.
Only the event staff remained, waiting to clean up.
"Mr. Blackwood, should we start wrapping up? There's no one left."
A supervisor in a blue uniform approached Marcus and asked softly.
"Wait a little longer, just a little longer."
Marcus sat on the display platform, feeling slightly anxious.
There's no reason he wouldn't come.
Although they could continue with arrangements later, wasting too much time would make things rushed once Frank returned from Morocco and the plot began.
Thump, a dirty, calloused hand slammed onto the red cloth-covered display table in front of him.
The grimy fingernails were full of dirt.
But Marcus didn't care about that anymore. His gaze narrowed, focusing on the puzzle box in the dirty hand.
It had arrived!
The box was ornate, covered in intricate geometric patterns and symbols.
The brass mechanisms gleamed even in the dim light, and Marcus could almost hear a faint humming emanating from it.
The box seemed to have a hypnotic quality; Marcus felt as if he were being drawn in. In this warm early autumn evening, he felt a bone-chilling cold.
"Where did this homeless guy come from? Get lost!"
a staff member shouted, about to grab a chair to chase him away.
"Wait a minute,"
Marcus stopped him, carefully examining the hooded homeless man before him.
"This is truly a remarkable puzzle box. How much? I want it,"
Marcus said.
"It belongs to you now. Hell has no sulfurous fire, only endless winter,"
the homeless man said cryptically, then quickly turned and left.
Marcus picked up the puzzle box, not daring to examine it too closely.
He carefully placed it in a protective case, wrapped it securely, and waved for the staff to begin clearing the area.
He had gotten what he was waiting for; there was no need to linger.
(End of Chapter)
[+500 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]
[+10 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]
If you enjoyed this chapter, leave a Review!
P*atreon/DarkFoxx (30+ advanced chapters)