Chapter 453: Callighan’s Cold Anger

"The attack seems to have gone very well in Atlantic City."

Gaspar’s voice carried through the quiet living room as he stepped inside.

He wore a faint smile as though he had just returned from something entertaining rather than from an operation that had flooded an entire settlement with Infected.

Callighan stood near the window with his back turned.

A large table sat behind him, covered with old maps, weapons, handwritten notes, and supply lists, but he was not looking at any of them. He simply watched the streets outside through the dusty glass, his hands resting behind his back.

"The Boardwalk suffered terrible damage," Gaspar continued. "Half their territory is gone. They’re regrouped now, packed into a smaller area closer to the hotel."

He walked farther into the room, clearly expecting some kind of response.

Callighan did not turn around.

"You went there that night without my permission."

Gaspar paused.

Then he raised an eyebrow and gave a small laugh.

"Are you upset about that?"

He moved toward the nearest couch and dropped onto it casually, leaning back as though they were discussing nothing important.

"I needed to see Ryan Gray up close. I needed to know what he was capable of and how much of a threat he actually is."

Gaspar’s smile returned.

"Turns out, not much. I can handle him whenever I want."

"You disobeyed my orders," Callighan said.

His voice was quiet.

Cold.

"And you took the Matrix Device for yourself."

Gaspar sighed.

"Come on. I needed something to bait the bastard. It worked too. He came exactly where I wanted him to, like an idiot."

"He is still alive," Callighan replied.

Gaspar’s expression shifted slightly.

"And you lost the Starakian Device."

The room became still.

"Zakthar is gone as well," Callighan added.

Gaspar’s smile faded for a moment.

"That was a mistake," he said. "I didn’t expect those bastards to have one of those Starakian bombs."

The memory clearly irritated him.

The sound.

The pain.

The way Ravager had been forced apart by the anti-Symbiote blast.

Gaspar’s jaw tightened.

"But it doesn’t matter. Ryan was barely standing by the end of it. He is weak. He is inexperienced. He has no idea how to properly use that thing inside him."

"Your excuses do not interest me, Gaspar."

Callighan finally turned around.

His face was calm, but his eyes carried no warmth at all.

"You disobeyed me. You acted alone. You lost the Matrix. You lost the Stones."

He stepped away from the window.

"And after all of that, you still failed to kill Ryan Gray."

Gaspar’s eyes narrowed.

Callighan walked closer, each step measured.

"You lost us valuable Starakian technology," he continued. "You gave Ryan and his people a chance to recover the Stones. And when things went wrong, you ran."

Gaspar laughed.

It was casual at first.

Then it became sharper.

"What?" he asked. "You wanted me to stay there and die over a broken device?"

His smile disappeared completely.

"And since when am I under your orders, Callighan?"

"Since you decided to follow me," Callighan replied.

Gaspar leaned forward on the couch.

"I got you out of that cell. Don’t forget that."

"I would have escaped eventually."

Callighan stopped directly in front of him.

He looked down at Gaspar with the same cold expression.

"You needed me more than I needed you."

Gaspar’s face darkened.

"I see." He let out a low laugh. "You’re upset because your plan worked, but you still can’t do anything against another Symbiote Host."

His eyes narrowed.

"How about you stop clinging to those pathetic morals of yours? We could end all of them right now. Ryan. Marlon. The entire Boardwalk. Every person who keeps getting in our way."

Callighan stared at him for a long moment.

Then he spoke.

"From now on, you will obey me."

Gaspar’s smile faded.

"You will not act without my permission."

"I love you, Callighan," Gaspar said, though there was no humor in his voice now. "But I am not obeying anyone."

"You will obey me," Callighan repeated.

Gaspar slowly stood from the couch.

The air in the room seemed to tighten around them.

"Or what?"

His eyes began glowing.

A monstrous yellow light appeared in them, growing brighter as yellowish Plasma shifted beneath his skin. Thin strands of membrane pushed from under his sleeves and collar, moving like living things preparing to strike.

Gaspar smirked.

Then the sound began.

A sharp, distorted wave tore through the room.

Gaspar’s smirk vanished instantly.

"Ugh—!"

He stumbled backward, both hands flying to his head.

The sound was not loud enough to hurt an ordinary human. It was a high, splitting frequency, unpleasant but bearable. Something that made the teeth ache and the ears ring.

But Gaspar reacted like his skull was being torn apart from the inside.

"AGHHHH!"

He collapsed from the couch onto the floor.

His fingers clawed at his head as his body shook violently. Yellow Plasma burst from beneath his clothing, splitting away from him in writhing strands. The membrane slapped against the floor and walls, twisting in frantic pain as though it had a mind of its own.

Gaspar’s scream became deeper.

Less human.

"W...What are you doing?!" he snarled, forcing his glowing eyes up toward Callighan.

Callighan stood above him without moving.

In one hand, he held a small device.

It looked like a remote control, though it had been modified with unfamiliar metal parts, thin wires, and a rotating dial along one side.

"I had Zakthar make it," Callighan said calmly.

He looked down at the device.

"It was made for Ryan Gray."

Then his eyes returned to Gaspar.

"But I also had someone like you in mind."

Gaspar’s expression twisted with fury and pain.

Callighan’s thumb moved over the control.

Then he turned the dial.

The frequency rose.

Gaspar’s entire body jerked.

"AGHHHHH!"

He slammed both fists against the floor hard enough to crack the wood beneath them.

Blood spilled from his mouth.

The yellow Plasma around him writhed wildly, breaking apart into shaking pieces as the anti-Symbiote sound continued to fill the room.

"You are quite uncontrollable after all," Callighan said coldly.

Gaspar remained on the floor, shaking as the anti-Symbiote frequency continued to tear through him. Yellow Plasma spilled from beneath his clothes in thin, trembling strands, writhing over the wooden boards before pulling itself weakly back toward his body.

Callighan stood over him without moving.

"And your thirst for blood and violence has become tiring."

Gaspar tried to raise his head.

His eyes still glowed faintly yellow, though the light was unstable now. Every time he attempted to gather more Plasma around himself, the sound wave seemed to break it apart before it could take shape.

Callighan’s expression did not change.

"I know you have been encouraging the criminals here," he continued. "Instigating them. Filling their heads with the idea that they can challenge me."

Gaspar’s teeth clenched.

Callighan looked toward the door, where two armed men stood silently waiting.

"I have no choice but to keep those filthy people on a leash," he said. "They are useful until they are not."

"Y...You took them," Gaspar forced out.

The words came through gritted teeth.

Callighan looked down at him.

"I did," he replied. "Until I no longer need them."

Then he turned his attention back toward the window.

"And after I am done with Marlon... who knows."

The coldness in his voice made the meaning clear.

Callighan had something planned for the criminals under his command.

The former prisoners.

The violent men who followed him only because he had given them weapons, food, territory, and permission to feel powerful again.

They thought Callighan was one of them because he had once been locked up too.

They were wrong.

To Callighan, they were tools.

Nothing more.

"I could have killed Williams," Callighan continued. "He deserved it."

Gaspar’s body tensed slightly at the name.

"But I had to keep him alive. If I killed him, the other pieces of trash might have tried something stupid after seeing one of their own die."

Callighan’s gaze returned to Gaspar.

"Mutiny is inconvenient."

Gaspar did not answer.

He could barely move.

The frequency continued to grind through his body, making his muscles spasm every few seconds. Blood slipped from the corner of his mouth and dripped onto the floor. His fingers dug into the wood beneath him, leaving shallow marks as he fought to hold himself together.

Callighan calmly pulled a handgun from his belt.

Then he aimed it directly at Gaspar’s head.

At this distance, there was no chance Gaspar could avoid it.

Not in his current state.

Not while the anti-Symbiote device kept running.

Gaspar’s eyes moved toward the gun.

For a second, the yellow Plasma around him twitched as though it wanted to lash out.

Then it weakened again.

Even Gaspar understood the risk.

If he tried anything now, Callighan would shoot.

And with his Symbiote being suppressed, there was no guarantee he would regenerate fast enough to survive a bullet at point-blank range.

And there were the other people right behind Callighan, his loyal men with their weapons raised and ready.

"I put you in the same category as them," Callighan said.

His voice remained calm.

"The criminals. The violent men. The people who believe the world ending gave them permission to become whatever they want."

He lowered the gun slightly but did not put it away.

"And you are the worst among them."

Gaspar’s eyes narrowed.

"But you are still useful," Callighan continued. "You have power. You know things I do not. And until now, I believed you had enough intelligence to restrain yourself when necessary."

Callighan leaned closer.

"Am I wrong?"

Gaspar’s jaw clenched so hard it looked painful.

A thin trail of blood ran from his eyes now, mixing with sweat along his face. His body shook beneath the pressure of the sound, but he forced himself to give a weak shake of his head.

"No," he managed.

Callighan watched him for a few seconds.

Then he nodded.

"The time has come to take Marlon down."

Gaspar’s eyes shifted.

"We will regroup," Callighan said. "We will prepare properly. And by the end of this week, Marlon will be finished."

His gaze became colder.

"The Boardwalk has already been weakened. Their barricades are damaged. Their people are tired. They are grieving. They think surviving the Screamer means they won."

He raised the anti-Symbiote device slightly.

"They are wrong."

Callighan looked down at Gaspar again.

"You will help."

Gaspar did not answer immediately.

The sound still drilled through him.

Callighan’s gun remained close enough that he could not forget it for even one second.

"You will be useful," Callighan said.

His thumb rested against the control dial.

"And you will obey me. Won’t you?"

For a long moment, Gaspar only glared at him.

Fury burned in his eyes.

But beneath the rage was something else.

Calculation.

Gaspar knew he could not win this fight in his current condition. Not while Callighan held a weapon built specifically to cripple Symbiotes. Not with five loyal armed men and women standing behind him.

Slowly, he nodded.

"Yes," Gaspar said weakly.

Callighan’s expression did not change.

"Good."

He lowered the handgun.

Then he gave a small nod toward the two armed men near the door.

They immediately followed him out of the room.

Callighan left without another word.

The door shut behind them.

A few seconds later, the anti-Symbiote frequency stopped.

The silence hit hard.

Gaspar’s body went still for a moment.

Then he dragged in a harsh breath and coughed blood onto the floor.

The yellow Plasma around him slowly pulled itself back into his body, trembling as it disappeared beneath his skin.

Gaspar stayed on his hands and knees.

His fists clenched against the wooden boards.

His eyes narrowed with pure hatred.