The Charismatic Charlie Wade

Charlie’s face transformed, becoming a picture of fierce determination. His eyes burned with a deadly fire that sent shivers down
the black man’s spine.
In that moment, all doubt vanished. The man understood Charlie’s ultimatum crystal clear. Defying it meant signing his own
death warrant. But the idea of swallowing bullets gave him the creeps. It wasn’t just about gulping them down, getting them out
afterward was a whole different ball game.
He briefly wondered if dropping the name of the Burning Angels might rattle Charlie once more. Like some Taoist priests, maybe
they could play mind games, a battle of wills. If Charlie felt satisfied, maybe they could skip the fight and have a drink together. It
wasn’t unusual, whether in China or the States. The key was knowing when to call it quits.
Yet, when he tried to voice these thoughts, he stumbled. Charlie’s punches still smarted, and begging wouldn’t do any good. If he
kept asking for peace, he’d only get more beatings.
Just when he teetered on the brink of indecision, a loyal friend by his side took the leap.
With all the courage he could muster, the companion spoke up. “Sir, maybe this is all a big misunderstanding. We, the Burning
Angels, pride ourselves on being rational. Show us a bit of respect, and we can set up a meeting with our boss. Maybe we can
work something out and avoid all this escalating.”
The man watched his buddy say what he couldn’t bring himself to utter. Hope sparked inside him, and he nodded vigorously.
“Yes, sir, you see, you’re a skilled fighter, brave. If we team up, the Burning Angels will be unstoppable. Don’t you think?”
Charlie eyed the man, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got wit and know how to make friends out of enemies.”
The man nodded eagerly. “Yes, sir, he’s always been sharp...”
Jagoan’s grin grew wider. “With such a smart ally vouching for you, I’d be a fool not to go along.”
The man brimmed with excitement. It looked like Jagoan might actually let him off the hook.
Even though the beating had been brutal, at least he wouldn’t have to gulp down bullets. Once he got out of this tight spot, he
swore he’d report it all to his boss. Trying to turn enemies into buddies was just plain foolish. Survival meant seizing this chance
and getting back at them in kind.

But just as he began to believe Jagoan would show him mercy, hope curdled into dread as Jagoan changed the game. “You
asked God for forgiveness once, and he might not have granted it. Are you ready to ask for mine now? I’ll give it a shot.”
The man practically glowed with hope, babbling, “Yes! Yes! Sir, I, Will Johnson, beg your forgiveness!” He stared at Jagoan, eyes
brimming with expectation.
Jagoan met his gaze, a slight smile on his lips. “Swallowing a whole bullet ain’t easy, so I’ll cut you some slack.”
With that, he took the bullet, pinching the casing with his fingers, then the head with his thumb and forefinger. A collective gasp
filled the room as Jagoan effortlessly separated the bullet from its casing.
These were seasoned gang members, familiar with firearms. They’d messed around with bullets before, but the bond between
casing and warhead was usually rock solid. It took specialized tools, often a vice, to do it.
Jagoan’s casual disassembly left them stunned, a growing sense of fear settling in. If he could take a bullet apart that easily,
what was stopping him from smashing skulls with a single blow?
But at this point, they didn’t grasp Jagoan’s plan. Why did he dismantle the bullet, and what did it have to do with the forgiveness
he’d mentioned?
Jagoan turned to the man, holding up the separated bullet with a grin. “You asked for forgiveness, right? Here it is. Swallowing a
whole bullet is a tough gig, so I made it a bit more manageable.”
The man sank into dread, staring at Jagoan in disbelief. These words, coming from the young man before him, felt surreal.
Jagoan reminded him, “Don’t forget to thank your loyal friend. He got you this chance.”
The young man’s face went pale, and he avoided his friend’s eyes. Anger boiled within him.
If he had known Jagoan would resort to such a cruel trick, he would have gladly swallowed the whole bullet without hesitation.
After all, ingesting an entire bullet and then retrieving it intact seemed less risky than this. Now, he was facing a mouthful of
gunpowder.
Panicking, he turned to Jagoan. “Sir... This... There’s gunpowder inside!”
Jagoan nodded, unfazed. “Yep. What’s a little gunpowder gonna hurt?”

The man was on the brink of collapse, pleading, “You’re lying... It’ll kill me!”
Jagoan sneered and forced the man’s mouth open. He poured the gunpowder in, the sharp chemical taste assaulting his senses.
The man’s tongue stung, tears welling up. He struggled to cough, but before he could, Jagoan put the bullet back together and
clamped his mouth shut.
With a cool demeanor, Jagoan instructed, “You better swallow those bullets and casings. If you fight it, you’ll find more in your
mouth soon. If you struggle, I’ll help you along with a stick.”
He took another bullet and repeated his earlier motions. The man had no choice but to obey, gritting his teeth to gulp down
bullets and casings.
As they watched, the other followers felt a mix of relief and a dark satisfaction. Thankfully, they had dodged this brutal fate at the
hands of this ominous figure.
But just as they began to exhale, Jagoan issued another order. “For those of you with guns, you better do the same. Swallow all
the bullets in your firearms. If you defy me, you’ll face the same fate as him!”