— Meanwhile - Mexico - Mexico City—
"Are you satisfied with our arrangement, Mr. Norris?" a man in a formal black suit asked the man reclining in a luxurious chair. The live broadcast of the ICC trial was still playing on the TV in front of him.
The man enjoying the show was none other than General Moore, now Mr. Norris, sporting a fake beard and mustache.
"Yes, I'm very satisfied," Mr. Norris replied with a cunning smile.
After his arrest and detention in the US supermax prison, UN representatives had quickly arrived to negotiate his transfer to the ICC for trial. Moore's political instincts immediately recognized this as an opportunity for a deal.
After all, the crucial knowledge about the virus experimentation and bio-engineered weapons was stored in a secret location known only to him. He had made preparations in case of defeat to ensure his safety and lifestyle.
When the UN approached him, he decided to strike a deal with them. He had no personal grudge against the UN, nor any direct conflict of interest. Therefore, his chances of survival and well-being were significantly higher compared to any deal with the US.
Now, with a new name, face, and nationality, he had chosen a leisurely life in Mexico. Perhaps, with his substantial wealth in a Swiss bank, he could establish a drug empire and live like a king, having others do his dirty work.
General Moore was not one to live peacefully like ordinary people. He craved power, control, and the thrill of having others serve him. He could lay low for a while, but what would he do after that? Only God knew.
"By the way, can you transfer my wealth from the Confederacy bank to my Swiss account?" the former general inquired.
"Hmm..." The man paused, then shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Mr. Norris. That would be a separate deal. You'll need to contact my employer. Of course, you'll need something valuable to trade for this favor," the man in the black suit explained.
"Let me think about it," Norris, or Moore, said, stroking his beard. He was certain he had something to bargain with, something important that he had... somehow forgotten. Something far more extraordinary than the virus and bio-engineered creature research.
Perhaps it was connected to those projects, but there had to be something more.
Joel sneered. "Heh... All of us here lost something to you. Wives, children, fathers, husbands, loved ones. Can you give them back?"
General Moore fell silent, unsure how to respond. It seemed these people were victims of the war he had caused.
Joel then pulled a small, dull, rusty blade from his pocket. "Since we can't get them back, we can only settle for the next best thing..." He looked at General Moore, his eyes bloodshot.
"Your life!" Joel snarled, slicing General Moore's exposed leg.
Joel then pulled a small, dull, rusty blade from his pocket. "Since we can't get them back," he said, his eyes bloodshot as he looked at General Moore, "we can only settle for the next best thing..."
"Your life!" Joel snarled, slicing General Moore's exposed leg.
"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggghhh!" General Moore's blood-curdling scream echoed through the room as a small piece of meat was cut and tore out of his leg.
Joel handed the blade to the woman behind him, another victim of the war.
"Give me back my husband!" she screamed, making another cut before passing the blade on.
"Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggghhggghhhhhhhhh!" General Moore's screams grew increasingly inhuman, sounding more like a pig being slaughtered.
Another person followed, taking the blade and adding to the torment. The screams continued as people exacted their vengeance, each cut more agonizing than the last due to the dullness of the blade.
Joel walked out of the room, calling out to the long queue of people winding through the hallway of this large butcher factory, now under Albert's control. Thousands of people waited their turn.
When Joel reached the main street, he could no longer hold back his tears. Passersby, unaware of the horrors inside the factory, approached to check on him. This marked the end of Joel's revenge. Now, he would have to live with the empty pain of losing those he loved, and the object of his hatred now dead.