CHAPTER 188

"Hello, son."

As Marcos' father stepped out of the shadows and the two laid eyes on each other for the first time in almost 6 months, Marcos felt his heart rate slow to a halt. His mind was spinning, flabbergasted to see his father out of jail and standing before him, and yet he somehow, in that moment, felt completely calm. He hadn't allowed panic to set in yet, so as his father slowly walked towards him, a sly grin on his face, Marcos took a few steps forward too to meet him.

The two stood face to face, in the apartment where so much had happened between them. There wasn't a single corner in the place that hadn't been marred by the abuse, and seeing his father in the apartment only brought all of those memories rushing back. The only thing prevented Marcos from being filled with anger and panic was his confusion: what the hell was his father doing here? How was he out of prison? Had he escaped?

So many questions were on Marcos' mind, but it was his father who ended up speaking first.

"You know you really shouldn't leave your door unlocked, Marcos. Anyone could get in." His father drawled.

"I didn't." Marcos shot back in response. His father chuckled, smirking widely at him. The position he was in, with all of the power in the world over his timid son, gave him nothing but delight after being forced to rot in jail for 6 months because of him.

"Oh yeah. Right. Guess you changed the lock since I left." His father commented. Marcos scowled daggers at him.

"You didn't leave! You were thrown in jail! Where you should be right now, rotting for the rest of your life!" Marcos shouted. "How the hell did you get out?!"

Marcos' father shrugged.

"You might feel that way, but not everyone does." Marcos' dad responded. "Justice prevailed. This country's just legal system finally did its job and realized that I shouldn't be in jail. Slapping you around… it wasn't a crime. It was a public service."

As Marcos' father spat this at him, Marcos took another step closer to his father, the older man doing the same. The father and son were geared up and ready to fight, ready to end the feud between them once and for all. Rather than hitting him though, Marcos stood face to face with his father, adrenaline rendering him unnerved in the presence of his abuser.

"Yeah, well you just broke into my home. I don't know what your precious legal system would think about that. Maybe I should give them a call." Marcos threatened him. At that moment, both him and his father knew that Marcos wasn't actually going to do that. This… this was between them. It wasn't between them and the police. This had all started with them and they knew that it was soon going to finish with them, with only one of them left standing. That wasn't the only reason Marcos wasn't going to call the cops either. There was also…

"I know you're not going to do that." His father remarked.

"What makes you so sure?" Marcos snapped. "How would you know what I'm going to do?"

His father chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

"In case you've already forgotten, Marcos, it was me who raised you."

"Mom raised me. Not you." Marcos was quick to interject, wanting to distance himself as much as he possibly could from the monster standing in front of him. Marcos was his mother's son; not his father's. That's what he told himself, refusing to accept the notion that he was 50% made up from his paternal DNA.

"And after she died? What happened then? Was it not me who raised you? Was it not me who even before she died, worked my ass off to put food on the table and clothes on your back? You can hide all you want, Marcos, but the fact is that you're still my son. So when you call me a monster, know that half of that monster lives within you too." His father responded. "And you wanted to know why I'm so confident you're not going to call the police? Because I know exactly what you're thinking right now."

"Yeah. That's obvious. I'm thinking about putting an end to this, right here, right now." Marcos growled. His father was unfazed though, laughing loudly in his son's face.

"Still the same temper I see. Guess nothing really has changed. But your bark's always been a lot worse than your bite." His father said. "But no… you're still wondering about how I managed to get out of jail, aren't you?"

Marcos didn't respond, but his face said it all. His father's grin widened further as he nodded.

"Yes… that's what I thought. I knew I raised the son I raised had a brain buried in there somewhere. You're not going to call the cops because you're too curious as to how I got out." His father purred.

"You're right. I am." Marcos admitted. "I still think you managed to break out. How else would you have escaped a whole fucking life sentence?"

His father tutted at him, shaking his head disapprovingly.

"Disappointing as ever. You've always been a bit on the slow side, haven't you? Guess all those knocks to the head can't have helped." His father joked. "Marcos… Marcos… Marcos… come on. You and I both know that if I somehow managed to break out of prison, this would be the first place the cops would look. There would be police swarming around this complex like bees. I wouldn't be able to get within a kilometer of here. You know that I managed to get out of jail legitimately. Question is how."

Felipe Oliveira was clearly egging his son on to ask, but Marcos didn't say a word. He wasn't going to give his father the satisfaction of knowing that he had Marcos beaten, even if it was something as small as this. He remained silent, scowling a hole through his father, his hands twitching, eager to be put to use.

His father shrugged.

"Okay. Fine. If you're not going to ask, I'll go ahead and tell you anyway. The power of friendship." His father informed him. "Even in the unlikeliest of places, you can make friends, for as long as you're able to bond over your shared interests."

This left Marcos even more confused than he had been beforehand. The power of friendship? What the hell did that mean? Marcos' father relished in seeing the look of bewilderment and annoyed bafflement on his son's face, guffawing loudly.

"You can stew on that. I'm going to go and continue to enjoy my time out." His father said, beginning to walk past his son. "Don't worry though… I'll be seeing you real soon, Marcos."

Marcos' father headed for the door, Marcos allowing him to leave as his mind was still trying to catch up to the events of that night. He watched as his father opened the door and retreated into the night, disappearing into the darkness and leaving his son behind him.

Felipe walked away from the apartment complex, and once he was a reasonable distance away, pulled out a burner phone and called the first number on the speed dial. After just one ring, the phone was answered by the man on the other end.

"I did what you told me to do. I made contact." Felipe told him. "You were right. He had no clue I was out, so he was terrified.

The smile appearing on the face of the man on the other end of the line was almost audible through the phone, particularly when he started chuckling loudly into the mobile device.

"Perfect! Our plan is shaping up just like we hoped for. Everything's falling into place beautifully." The other man replied. "More of our friends are arriving later tonight, so we're almost ready for the battle to begin."

Felipe nodded, sighing slightly.

"I still don't know why I'm waiting. Marcos is in that apartment right now. Alone. Why can't I just go in and finish him right now?" Felipe asked. "The longer this goes on for, the more chance that something goes wrong."

"Patience. You'll get your opportunity, but not yet." The other man replied. "Trust me, nothing is going to go wrong. In less than 48 hours, every Miyagi-Do and Cobra Kai in this Valley will be dead. I assure you. Including your son…"