From Bullets To Billions Chapter 1 1: I'm Dying

It all began upon the passing of my brother, Kyle Darn. This realization weighed heavily on the mind of Maximus, accompanied by a sharp, searing agony spiking through his leg. As his internal temperature plummeted, the world dissolved into an impenetrable void of darkness. The silence was broken only by a sluggish, abrasive scratching sound dragging across the floor.

Maximus understood the nature of that noise instantly. He was being dragged, his body bound and constricted within a suffocating black sack, arms and legs hopelessly restrained. Even had he the might to struggle, he was entirely incapacitated. His singular, trivial talent—the dexterous manipulation of chopsticks at supper—was officially rendered obsolete. It had never been a gift of true renown, yet for some reason, the ability of billions to perform the same task daily never ceased to amuse a few individuals.

During these fading heartbeats, his entire existence flickered before his eyes, a relentless torrent of memories rushing forth.

Misfortune had pursued me relentlessly ever since Kyle’s death. My father died that very same day, losing his life in a harrowing car crash while desperately rushing to the hospital. Unable to bear the crushing grief of losing two beloved souls, my mother eventually succumbed to despair, leaving only me behind as the final survivor.

Despite such devastating depletion, Maximus refused to let his tragic history dictate his fate. Indeed, those very losses served as the crucible that forged his character. From that moment forward, he determined the world would no longer extract from him; instead, he would seize whatever he desired, utilizing any available means. Theft, manipulation, brutality, or extortion—his internal moral barometer vanished, supplanted by an ironclad resolve. Soon, others sharing similar scars and grievances gathered under his banner, eventually birthing the notorious White Tiger Gang.

In retrospect, the name feels utterly mortifying. The recollection caused him to wince internally. They had anointed him 'White Tiger' simply due to his penchant for white attire, or perhaps due to his partial Asian ancestry. Regardless, I had foolishly accepted the title.

Had he been capable of movement, Maximus would have struck himself. While most people are haunted by awkward memories of their teenage years, he carried a surplus of blunders well into his adulthood.

Even today, he had donned his lucky red undergarments, yet fortune clearly remained absent. The pain escalated with every passing breath, a brutal reminder of the numerous stab wounds riddling his frame—he had lost count somewhere past a dozen.

"Drop him right here. Get out and leave us; I have a few words for him in private," a muffled voice commanded from overhead.

Receding footsteps faded before the sound of a zipper slicing through the stillness occurred. Maximus narrowed his eyes, fighting through the haze to peer out as the bag opened. Between the dizziness and flowing blood, comprehension was nearly impossible, yet he managed to discern a figure looming over him, a balaclava obscuring their features.

"For all I can tell, I might have been abducted by Harry Potter," Maximus murmured, his consciousness drifting in and out of the light. "Harry Potter... that’s a terrifying prospect. How could I even overcome him? A solid headbutt, perhaps a swift kick where it hurts... I’d love to see him use a spell to recover from that."

"Still joking in your final moments?" The masked man let out a dark chuckle, clutching a handful of Maximus’s dark hair to force his face upward. "It remains unbelievable that a man like you commanded the White Tiger Gang. You crawled from the gutters, manufacturing fear where there was none. What a pathetic joke."

Maximus strained against the blurring veil, desperate for clarity, but his vision betrayed him completely.

My eyes are utterly useless. Is his voice masked by intent, or is that merely a product of my fading mind?

"Deep down, you knew this inevitable day would arrive. I am privileged to be the one who finally ends the great Maximus Darn." The man whipped off his hood with a flourish, yet blood obstructing Maximus’s pupils rendered recognition impossible.

"I wanted you to witness the features of your killer. You boasted that you belonged to no one, but you were mistaken. Money governs this city, not gangs."

The man released his grip and delivered a final, concussive kick, sending Maximus tumbling backward. A frigid torrent of water surged into his throat, and he sank swiftly, the distant ambient light swallowed by an endless, watery abyss.

Am I drowning? Is this truly the end? Dying without knowing my executioner or the motive? Wealth rules? Was my life sold to the highest bidder?

A bitter, searing rage ignited within his spirit.

Those specific words—no one owns me—were shared only with those closest to him. Had a member of my own inner circle engineered this betrayal? Had I not endured enough? To whichever force presides over this wretched world, do you not owe me even this: the knowledge of who orchestrated my demise?

His furious thoughts gradually dampened, slipping into the void alongside his dying embers of anger. That instant marked the final chapter for Maximus Darn, the infamous leader of the White Tiger Gang.

*****

The ensuing tranquility remained painfully brief. A blinding explosion of agony erupted within Maximus’s skull, far surpassing the intensity of his previous wounds. His energy was sapped, replaced by overwhelming torment.

Is this retribution for defying destiny? But wait, if I can perceive agony, does that imply I still exist?

Maximus attempted to struggle, reaching out to move a finger or flutter an eyelid, yet the result remained elusive.

"He’s showing signs! Alert the medical team immediately! He is reacting!"

Urgent voices swarmed around him. The rhythmic beeping of machinery beside him grew crisp and distinct. He was entirely certain of his location.

A deeper, commanding voice issued orders with icy authority: "You will exhaust every resource to preserve the life of Max Stern. Expense is irrelevant. The Stern clan will meet any price. If you fail, none of you should dare return tomorrow."

Who is this arrogant individual issuing demands? Maximus pondered with grim confusion. The realization struck him with sudden, violent force: the speaker was referring to him. And his identity was no longer Maximus Darn. He was Max Stern.

No... This is impossible. The Stern clan? One of the most opulent families in the entire nation?