Everything that was being broadcast was not done randomly. Larry had executed a detailed higher-level plan in which he, along with a group of people, acted together to ensure that idiots like Malcolm would pay the price for their actions.
That's why they were warned, and the introduction wasn't written at random. Some people suffer from hemophobia, heart disease, and cowardice.
If some of the people who were watching the channels kept watching, in a short time what they were seeing wouldn't compare to what they would see next.
"If you're having trouble continuing, I recommend turning off your TV." Larry's cold words made many viewers angry.
"What is there to be afraid of? I'm not even afraid of death! This beast should be tortured to death using the cruelest methods!"
"No way…" Malcolm, who had returned to his apartment, watched the TV in horror as he realized he was the protagonist of all his problems.
When he looked at the online posts using his name, Malcolm could never have imagined that he, a well-known oil tycoon, would be in such a miserable state today.
Lack of will and resentment filled his thoughts.
"To whoever can save me, I'll give ten percent of my assets. No! I'll give half!" Just as he finished speaking, the lights in his apartment flickered on and off.
Larry, in the darkness, enjoyed all the thoughts being posted online, on famous websites and live conversation forums.
They all shared a common idea: Malcolm must die without exception.
The world hoped that not even the police could save a man like Malcolm.
Larry had spent a long time analyzing people and had discovered something very interesting: justice is desired by everyone, even those who do evil.
Some feared that Larry, the torturer, would be influenced by money.
But Masuka, who was a man with far more knowledge, knew that someone who had gone to the lengths required to do something like what they were witnessing wasn't looking for money at all.
Someone like Larry would never look at money again.
His methods brought justice. He wanted to do the same to the man who had murdered his family.
Of course, when reading the online discussion, there were other opinions.
"I honestly don't think it's a good idea to praise a killer. After all, this is still a lynching, not to mention killing someone.
This is already considered murder. If crimes were resolved with lynchings, why would we need police and judges?
No matter how many reasons there are, it can't be denied that this live broadcast is, in itself, a crime.
I believe the police will take care of this very soon. The arrest of the person behind this atrocity will be tomorrow's headline news."
Those posts from people living in luxury were like a cancer to Larry, but the replies to posts like those gave him faith in people again.
"When your wife gets raped and murdered, and you get cooked alive, I hope you can still talk calmly about the law!"
"If the law was really useful, why hasn't that scumbag been caught yet?"
Larry, who was hiding in the darkness, revealed a faint mocking smile on his face, and the atmosphere instantly became even more bizarre.
Seeing that the number of people watching the live-intercepted channels was increasing explosively, he knew this had been a success.
…
Metropolitan Police Department.
"Damn it! What's going on? Why is the viewership on the TV channels increasing? I told you to shut that down at any cost." Raymond Holt couldn't believe that the police were being overshadowed by the actions of a vigilante who perhaps wasn't even right.
"Chief, the server shutdown has failed. The other channels have been turned off, but for some reason, one single channel is impossible to shut down, and now it's being transmitted to all the others."
"Then hurry up and restart the server!"
"Yes! But the reboot will take 15 minutes. There are still 13 minutes left until Malcolm's death. I'm afraid it's too late."
"Why didn't you say so earlier? Get the police cars to go faster!" Raymond Holt shouted furiously.
"Yes, sir!" The officer next to him nodded, but he also felt powerless. Rebooting the computer took time, and the server would surely take even longer.
Just as the station was crowded with people, a cold voice echoed in the live broadcast room.
"The police's attempts to hide this act of justice are amusing. They don't put any effort into doing their job properly, but to stop this small intervention, they're working harder than they ever have in their lives."
"With such a level of intelligence, it's no wonder you couldn't even find evidence of Malcolm's crimes. Or maybe your intelligence isn't the issue. You probably just didn't want to look."
At that moment, Raymond Holt was so angry he was about to go crazy.
He was being mocked by someone in front of everyone.
"But don't worry. I'll be the judge of the crimes the police don't care about. I've heard your voices. I'll listen to them. Just watch what happens."
"There are still twelve minutes left until Malcolm's death. Seven minutes until he won't be able to move a single finger. At that point, he'll lose the ability to save himself. He can only hope the incompetent police save his life—or he'll end up watching himself die."
The death sentence echoed in the air. It was full of sarcasm and provocation.
Malcolm hated Larry at that moment and wanted to make him taste his own medicine.
However, there was no time to think about that.
Just as he said, there were still seven minutes until he could only wait for his death. He didn't expect the police to do anything.
Malcolm could only save himself!
Thinking about this, Malcolm stood up from the floor and walked slowly toward the hallway, step by step and with great difficulty.
Malcolm had trouble getting closer to his son, inch by inch.
Even though he was his only son, no one could stand in the way of his survival.
...
While the viewers argued through bullet comments on the screen, Malcolm had already reached where his son was.
Since he had no muscles left to support him and had to climb, his hands and feet had lost their basic form. Black blood flowed from them, like chunks of rotting flesh hanging from his bones.
"Seven minutes to death and two minutes to loss of mobility." The deep, cold voice echoed once more in Malcolm's ears.