WHO'S THE PUPPETEER?

"Well, I am Narco after all."

The young man smilingly replied. Narco was sitting on the top step of the stairs and Mort sit next to him two feet away from his place. Mort said nothing. A wave of silence reigned between them and Narco just looked away.

One o'clock in the afternoon, the sky began to gloom. The sun is sinking in the misty shroud and the clouds hovering, dark and heavy, threatening to burst. The air smelled of oncoming rain and the short piercing gust of wind shook the trees while the leaves soar through the air. The sound of waves crashing on the beach can be heard in their place.

"Do you remember how old you are when we met?" Mort asked, facing upwards, towards the gloomy clouds as Narco swallowed hard.

"Not the exact number. Come on Dad, I am too young to remember." Narco kiddingly laughs making Mort fall into silence.

"But you do remember where we first met?" Mort asked again and Narco laugh thunderously once more.

"Yes, it was raining. I vaguely remember but we first met at the asylum." Narco replied. A smirk curve on Mort's lips without glancing at him.

"Yeah, and you were alone. You didn't even have shoes." Mort seconded as Narco laughed loudly and heartily.

"Yeah someone stole it," Narco said while wiping the tears off the corner of his eyes.

"You almost killed me that night." That word made Narco frozen in his place. He could feel his heart starting to pump fast losing all his emotion in the face.

"I'm sorry Dad. I didn't mean it." Mort just nodded. He then gave Narco a flat gaze who was now looking at the distance with dull eyes.

"I know you love to play and earn every penny you can get in a messy situation, but I didn't expect you to spare Victoria," Mort said detachedly. His cold demeanor matches the cold breeze that stirred his hair.

"Dad, Yelena's men are on their way at that moment. We don't have time to bring Victoria back with us." Narco replied without giving an eye to him. Mort nodded to his answer.

"How did Yelena's men catch you?" Mort asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Come on Dad, they're way bigger than us and there are many of them. We completely outnumbered." Narco laughed half-heartedly this time. Mort remain cold silent and just stared at him intently, like judging his wretched soul through his penetrating stare.

"It creeps the fuck out of me every time you call me Dad when you're not even him?" Mort said making the young man alarmed. Narco could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His mouth went dry.

"How-" his blood froze in his veins, Narco slowly turn to face him and Mort grinned and scoff derisively.

"Narco is a brilliant kid. Even though he's only 1 year old, he never forgets his past, whether it's good or bad." Mort said, face devoid of emotion and Narco look up, and listened to him.

"It wasn't raining when we met. Klauss was cleaning in the middle of the night on the 10th floor of my hospital and he used a hose on the fire truck and he happened to be right in front of the room that Klauss cleaned. He got drenched." Mort added. Narco was just feeling Mort's unnecessary movements while listening to his story. He kept a wary eye on him.

"No one stole his shoes. He used one of his shoes to kill someone who tried to assault him. And he used the other one to kill me when I tried to approach him." Mort said, grinning from ear to ear.

"And he's never alone. He's with Lyric and Leroy who are just at a distance. Acting like some bunch of angels who are willing to kill anyone who brings harm to Narco." Mort looked at the impostor he was with now.

"Where is he?" Mort asked in a dangerous tone. The man who claimed to be Narco met his eyes.

"W-hat d-do you m-mean?" The impostor acting stammered. He really did a good job stealing someone's identity and copying every movement of Narco is on a different level.

"Narco. The real one." Emotionless, Mort said and the impostor Narco burst into maniacal laughter.

"You are sharp. When did you notice that I wasn't him?" The impostor asked unaware of the dagger thrust on his flesh that Mort used to stab his left leg. He never caught Mort's swift and clean move inflicting him a wound. His eyes remain on the man and he didn't even seem to move in his place. Mort's position earlier remains the same, coldly eyed him and his glows menacingly.

"You wouldn't ask that question if you really knew me. Just answer my question." The impostor boldly said and tilted his head to the side and gave Mort a playful smile.

"Where is he?" Mort asked coldly. Narco's impostor sarcastically laughed.

"Why would I tell you?" The impostor laughingly replied while preventing himself to groan in pain from the dagger buried in his leg. He wasn't bleeding but he felt something different about the dagger. It has a poison in it that is slowly burning his flesh. It was even more painful and unbearable than the torture he experienced at the hands of another Mafia Lord.

"Y-you should be a-asking who I am f-first." Stammering, he added. His face contorted in a grimace of pain. The pain was like fire burning his legs. He winced and sweating profusely. He had no plans to answer Mort's question as he doesn't know where the real Narco was.

"You're not worth getting to know. You don't have that much value to get my attention." Calm, cold, and dangerous, Mort said. The impostor's throat was drying up as the amount of pain he was feeling right now is doubled. He was unable to numb himself because of the pain the dagger inflicting on him. It hurts more and more the longer it goes on.

"But--"

"Where is my son?"

Mort asked pointedly. Even if he wanted to endure the pain, he couldn't. The pain was so intense, so all-consuming, that he no longer knew where he was. He will not be able to buy time for his companions who are coming to the shrine now. He will gone crazy from the pain.

"He's in his family. Please remove the dagger!" Quiverred, the impostor pleaded while his body movement shrunk from the pain. He was having trouble breathing and his heart hammered out of his chest.

"I am his family," Mort responded coldly. "His fucking real family." He buried deeply the dagger and make a hole in his leg. The poison runs to his veins up to his head and is noticeable on his skin, slowly killing him from the inside.

Before the impostor succumbs to his death, Mort leaves the Shrine with no hint of his traces in the place. Jaw-clenched and darkened face, Mort was boarded in the phantom car and driving back when Klauss called.

"Boss, we have a bigger problem." Klauss's greeted made him grit his teeth irritably.

"What is it?" Mort asked, he slick off his hair as some of his strands dropped down sexily on his visage while his brows deeply narrowed on the road.

"The Vladimir we caught was an impostor," Klauss replied and Mort immediately hung up the call. For the fucking first time, someone got his head throb from an opponent he didn't have a clue about. Gritting his teeth, his hand tightened on the steering wheel and accelerated the car.

"Who's the puppeteer?"