Chapter 51 (The Mortal Multiverse : Liam Raven Harper)

Chapter 51 - Building the Case (Part-9)

3rd Person PoV

The warehouse was silent, save for the faint hum of a single overhead light flickering against the steel rafters.

John Wick stood near a stack of shipping crates, his black attire blending into the shadows.

He didn’t move when the door creaked open.

A man in a dark cap walked briskly inside, clutching a thick brown file.

He didn’t speak—just met John’s eyes, nodded once, and extended the file.

John accepted it with his usual calm and the man turned on his heel and slipped out, the heavy door groaning shut behind him.

The Silence returned.

John opened the file and Inside were glossy photographs, timestamps neatly marked, and a small drive taped to the inner flap.

The first photo: Carlos Vega, stepping out of a black SUV.

The next: Vega leaning against the vehicle, shaking hands with Marcus Hale.

Another: a grainy still from across the street, showing a quiet exchange of a small duffel bag between the two men outside a club.

The accompanying note confirmed: drugs, cash, and consistent meetings. The drive contained video proof of security cams from different angles according to his guy.

John flipped deeper and his sharp eyes locked onto a man in a tailored navy suit—young, polished, out of place among thugs and loan sharks like Liam mentioned.

The name scribbled beneath the photo read: Adrian Kane, CEO of NutraGenix Industries, a nutrition company whose public reputation was spotless.

John’s brow furrowed.

According to the brief, NutraGenix’s flagship project right now was an experimental protein powder, supposedly will revolutionise if complete but John’s source had dug into the company’s personnel list.

The R&D division was stacked with people who looked like window dressing—consultants with padded résumés, no real experience in biochemical breakthroughs.

Yet the photos told a different story.

In several frames, Adrian Kane was meeting privately with a man not listed on NutraGenix’s payroll.

A middle-aged scientist, lean, sharp features, heavy glasses. Name attached: Dr. Leonard Strauss.

Every meeting was the same. Kane handed Strauss a case—unmistakably cash.

John flipped through each photo carefully, then opened his laptop and inserted the drive.

Video clips appeared. Hale passing Vega bags. Vega slipping Kane envelopes.

Kane walking into hotel lobbies with Strauss and exiting hours later, lighter on cash.

Piece by piece, the network was falling into place.

Hale wasn’t working alone. Vega was the distributor, Marino the financer, Kane the shadow, Strauss the actual brain behind the operation.

John sat back, reviewing the evidence with a predator’s patience.

His rule never changed: verify, double-check, then strike. He went through every timestamp, every photograph, every clip, confirming the pattern was airtight.

No room for denial. No way out for them.

Only when he was satisfied did John pull out his encrypted phone. He compressed the file, encrypted the package, and queued it for Liam Harper.

The loaded gun is in Liam’s hands and it up him to pull the trigger.

3rd Person PoV

The back alleys of Brooklyn were quiet, except for the faint hum of traffic a few blocks away.

Liam leaned casually against his bike, his eyes hidden under the shadow of his hood.

Across the street, Rizzo—Victor Marino’s top enforcer—emerged from a pool hall, lighting a cigarette as he started walking alone.

Liam followed him. Silent. Patient.

When Rizzo turned into an isolated alley to cut through, Liam struck.

A hand clamped Rizzo’s shoulder and spun him against the wall.

Before the man could curse or reach for the pistol under his coat, crimson eyes bloomed in the dark.

Liam’s Sharingan. One tomoe whirled into focus, locking onto Rizzo’s eyes.

Rizzo froze.

His jaw unclenched.

The cigarette slipped from his fingers and smoldered on the pavement.

His pupils dilated, and his face slackened as the Sharingan drew him into its haze.

Liam’s voice was calm, almost detached.

“Tell me what happened to Travis Keane.”

Rizzo’s voice came out low, flat, mechanical under the influence.

“I killed him.”

Liam’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“He… found out. About the powder. His kid—Ethan Cole—got sick. The chronic condition came from the powder. Travis knew. He came after Hale outside the Velvet Rose. He shouted the word poison. I was told to silence him before he could talk.”

Liam’s jaw tightened, fury simmering in his chest. Still, he pressed on.

“Who gave the order?”

“My boss, Victor Marino.”

“And why was Hale protected?”

Rizzo continued, monotone. “Because Hale owed money. A lot. He borrowed from Victor Marino, through Francesco Dorian—the owner of Velvet Rose. Hale lost it all. They were going to break him… but Hale begged. Said he had a way to make them money. A new gig. He talked about a powder. A protein powder that could change the game. Performance. Betting.”

Liam felt Eve’s voice inside his HUD, sharp with anger.

[So he traded lives for money. Coaches, kids, athletes—they were just pawns to fix bets.]

“Where did the powder come from?” Liam demanded.

Rizzo’s head tilted slightly. “From Carlos Vega’s cousin. A big shot and he supplies the powder. Hale vouched for him. Said he was clean, no ties to the street. They started spreading it through struggling coaches. Promises of money, sponsorships, fame. Most coaches didn’t know it was harmful. Some did. They looked the other way. But Travis Keane—he came to know about it later. He wanted to tear Hale apart. So I silenced him.”

Rizzo blinked slowly, his voice flat. “That’s all.”

Liam’s Sharingan dimmed for a moment, the tomoe still glowing faintly in the shadows.

His phone on the inside pocket was recording everything—every word, every detail.

His voice was cold. “You’ll forget this conversation.”

The command slipped into Rizzo’s mind like smoke.

His eyes blinked, cleared, and he staggered slightly, glancing around as if nothing had happened.

With a grunt, he flicked his lighter, relit another cigarette, and walked out of the alley without a second thought.

Liam remained in the shadows, crimson fading back to black in his eyes.

His fists were clenched tight. Eve’s voice cut through the silence.

[They’re playing god with kids’ lives, Liam. This isn’t just about cocaine anymore. This is bigger. Betting, money laundering, performance drugs—And Hale was the front door.]

“I know,” Liam muttered, swinging his leg over his bike.

His voice was calm, but the anger beneath it was unmistakable. “And I’m going to tear them apart.”

The engine roared to life, breaking the night’s quiet as Liam sped off—back to the DA’s office, with the truth burning in his mind and the recording secured in his pocket.

Liam PoV

I sat behind my desk, the evening city glow bleeding through the blinds of my office.

The folders scattered before me weren’t enough anymore. Evidence was forming, but I needed something irrefutable—something to tie all the threads together.

That’s why I went to see Marcus Hale—alone.

The man looked like a wreck when I found him. A trainer once paraded as a celebrity fixer, now cornered, desperate, clutching at scraps of dignity.

He tried to posture, tried to sneer, but all it took was one flash of my eyes—the Sharingan igniting crimson—and his defenses crumbled.

His pupils dilated, his lips parted.

The haze settled.

“List your clients,” I ordered. My voice was calm, measured.

He obeyed. “Models… actors… influencers. Thirty-five names.”

As he recited, I captured every word into my phone’s recorder. The list of cocaine buyers was longer than I expected, high-profile enough to stir headlines if leaked. But that wasn’t my focus.

“Now the athletes. The ones who took the powder.”

Hale’s voice was a monotone drone under my control. “Twenty-two. Coaches took the powder from me and 31 horse and hound breeders and trainers also took it. They gave it to their athletes and animals. I said it would change their careers.”

I leaned forward, eyes burning deeper into his. “And?”

“Six of the athletes… sick. Two of them are already dead. Heart failure. Kidney failure. Rest still running—strong. They don’t know and lots of animals have also died”

My jaw tightened. Eve’s voice slid through my HUD, sharp as a blade.

[Two humans dead already, Liam. Ten more suffering. That’s not just a bad batch—it’s deliberate poisoning. Someone designed it to push the body past its limit, no matter the cost.]

I finally broke the gaze, letting Hale slump in his chair like he’d just woken from a bad dream. His memory of our meeting wiped clean by the Sharingan.

I walked away, but my mind burned with cold fury.

The next day, I went to the athletes themselves.

Each meeting was different—different cities, different tracks, different dreams in their eyes but the story was always the same.

Their coaches had pushed the “miracle powder” on them.

Some swore it was the only reason they were winning. Others confessed their bodies didn’t feel right anymore.

When I laid down the stats—the numbers Hale gave me—the smiles died.

“Two athletes are already dead,” I told them flatly, sliding the paper across the table. “Ten more are in hospitals. Your names are on the same list. You’ve been poisoned for profit.”

At first, disbelief. Then fear. Then anger.

One by one, ten of them broke. They signed their names to my forms, legally binding themselves as witnesses, victims, and allies.

Shaky hands, teary eyes, clenched jaws—they didn’t want revenge. They wanted survival.

Answers. Compensation. Justice.

I gave them my word I would deliver it.

When the last signature was inked, I leaned back in the chair, watching the papers stack together like blades ready to strike.

“This,” I muttered, “is the hammer. The head of the case.”

Eve’s voice chimed softly in my ear, calmer now.

[You’ve got your hammer, Liam. Thirty-five high-profile cocaine clients. Twenty-two athletes. Ten sick. Two dead and plenty of track breeders and trainers. If we swing this right, no defense lawyer alive will stop it.]

I nodded. But a weight lingered in my chest. “It’s not polished yet. The powder is the lynchpin. The lab says it’s clean. But it isn’t. We both know it isn’t. Until I prove that, the defense will call all of this coincidence.”

[Then we crack the powder,] Eve said firmly. [We find the science behind the lie.]

I glanced at the stack of signed witness forms, their ink still fresh. My hand brushed the top page, and I felt the gravity of every signature.

Right then, A mail from John blinked in my HUD.

The End