"Only in this way can good people be victorious and the villains lose, and the world be at peace."
This soliloquy, which sounded like a recital, wasn't interrupted by the bullets or screams; from beginning to end, the tempo of the recital never changed.
When Luke said the last sentence, the four leaders with Owen all stepped back in fear.
Only the boss, Owen, didn't back down at all.
His glare was hard, but he couldn't help but look down at that gray knife.
There were no stains on it, but Owen could smell the thick scent of blood.
That sharp blade was pressed to his throat, and he didn't even dare swallow.
Doing his best to stop shaking, Owen tried moving his lips without moving his throat. "Who are you?"
"An identity is but a formality, and what I am is just a man in a mask." Luke smiled. "Now, I'll ask the questions and you'll answer them. As long as your answers are to my satisfaction, tonight will be a good memory."