Chapter 27 : The Elaborate Plan

The pub was awfully sparse, its smoky haze and the stale scent of liquor creating a suffocating air of familiarity. As Lumian stepped inside, his gaze swept across the room, scanning faces he had seen before but never cared to know. It didn't take long for Michael to spot him. 

"Lumian!" Michael called out. His voice wavered with an excitement he tried and failed to mask. 

Lumian allowed a slow smile to spread across his face as he approached Michael. He looked the man over and found himself mildly surprised at how far he had fallen.

Michael was almost unrecognizable his eyes red-rimmed and bloodshot, due to sleepless nights. His hair was a mess, far overdue for a trim, he looked leaner and his usually clean-shaven face was marred with the beginnings of a patchy beard,. The once-pristine aura of professionalism and order that Michael carried was now buried under layers of dishevelment and desperation. 

Michael gestured to the seat opposite him and offered Lumian a drink. 

Lumian waved it off. "I'll pass." 

"Come on," Michael said, trying to cajole him. "It's been a while. Celebrate your return with me." 

"I wasn't on a journey," Lumian said, his voice cool and calm. "I just had some family issues to sort out." 

Michael raised an eyebrow at that, his curiosity piqued. "Family issues, huh? First time you've ever mentioned family, Lumian." 

Michael leaned forward, eager to dig deeper, but Lumian simply tilted his head and redirected the conversation. "How about we talk about something else?" 

Michael sighed, leaning back in his seat, and Lumian seized the opportunity. "How's the wife?" he asked. "And Voltstrike? Still chasing villains through alleys?" 

The mention of Angela visibly soured Michael's mood. He reached for his glass, downing its contents in one gulp before slamming it back onto the table. "Angela…" he muttered, his jaw tightening. 

Lumian watched him with a mixture of amusement and feigned concern as Michael's frustration spilled over. 

"She's gone astray," Michael began, his voice laced with bitterness. "She doesn't love me anymore. I hit her, Lumian. I didn't mean to but she made me do it!" 

Lumian's smile didn't falter as Michael continued, blaming Angela for everything wrong in their marriage seeing nothing wrong in whatever he had done, nothing seemed to be his fault. "Maybe I shouldn't have married her in the first place," Michael concluded bitterly. 

Lumian nodded, giving Michael the illusion of agreement. "I see." 

Michael leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Do you know the worst part of this whole mess?" 

Lumian tilted his head. "What's that?" 

Michael's face twisted with a mix of pain and anger. "I still love her. I know I shouldn't, but I do. And that's why…" He slammed his fist on the table. "That's why I'm going to find that bastard, the one she's been sneaking around with and I'll make him pay!" 

Lumian fought to keep his grin in check. How ironic, he thought, that the man Michael was hunting sat right in front of him. 

"Good," Lumian said with a nod. "It's about time you did something about it." 

Michael's eyes lit up with determination. "You always know what to do, Lumian. You've always got a plan." 

And a plan, Lumian did have. 

He leaned forward, lowering his voice to match Michael's conspiratorial tone. "He explained the plan to Michael in detail, laying out each step carefully. The first part of the plan involved Michael telling his wife, Angela, that he was going on an extended business trip. This announcement would give her the impression that he would be far away for the next few days, leaving the house entirely to her. 

In truth, Michael would remain close by, hidden from view, observing everything that transpired at the house. His objective was to catch Angela off guard and confirm his suspicions. The idea was that, believing herself alone and free from scrutiny, Angela would feel safe enough to invite the mysterious man she'd been meeting into their home. She would assume there was no chance of Michael being around to witness anything.

Once Angela allowed the man into the house, Michael's role would shift. At that moment, he was to contact Lumian immediately and let him know the situation was unfolding as planned. Lumian, who would be waiting nearby, would then sneak into the property without drawing attention. His job was to take incriminating pictures from inside the building before Angela and her guest could make their way into the apartment itself. 

These photographs would serve as undeniable proof, capturing the man's presence and the circumstances before Angela had any chance to intervene. The plan accounted for the possibility that Angela might try to conceal the man or help him escape when Michael bursts in to catch them in the act. 

By gathering photographic evidence beforehand, they could ensure there was no way for her to talk her way out of it when Michael eventually confronted her.

Michael listened intently, nodding as Lumian laid out his plan. 

"And then," Lumian added with a sly smile, "you can deal with him however you see fit." 

Michael grinned, a glimmer of malevolent satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "It's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Let's do it." 

Lumian clapped him on the shoulder. "Three days. That should give you enough time to prepare." 

"Three days," Michael echoed, his excitement growing. "I can't wait to get my hands on that bastard." 

His hands trembled as he gripped his glass, his eyes sparking with faint electricity. Lumian made a mental note to be cautious, Michael's volatility was growing with each passing day. 

But Lumian's outward demeanor remained calm and collected. "You'll get what you're looking for, Michael. Just stick to the plan." 

Michael leaned back, his mood shifting to one of smug satisfaction. "You're a genius, Lumian." 

Changing the subject, Lumian asked, "How's Voltstrike's crusade going?" 

Michael's face lit up as he pointed to the TV in the corner of the pub. The screen displayed a news segment about a recently discovered body—a notorious villain known as Crimson Widow. Her corpse had been dumped in an alley, with the words 'Death to Evil' scrawled on the wall above her in blood. 

Michael laughed, a sound that bordered on manic. "Normally, I leave them charred, barely recognizable, but this one? I wanted to send a message." 

He turned to the bartender, who had been quietly wiping glasses. "What do you think about another villain being taken off the streets?" 

The bartender shrugged. "Can't say I care much, but it's one less villain on this island." 

Michael smirked and turned back to Lumian. "See? I'm doing everyone a favor. One less villain on this infested island." 

Lumian chuckled softly, masking the chaos that brewed within his mind. He had to admit, Michael's methods were ruthless, efficient, and effective. Perhaps, in a different world, they might have been genuine friends. 

But this wasn't that world. 

And Michael had no idea that the man he was planning to destroy had been destroying him from the start. 

As Michael continued to boast about his heroics, Lumian's thoughts drifted. Three days. That was all he needed to set the stage for what came next. 

And when the time came, Michael would finally understand just how deep Lumian's revenge and hatred ran.