In a world where destiny is written in blood, one man will rewrite his own in bullets.
Watch the original version of Wanted
**Prologue**
In the heart of the city, under the cloak of darkness, a legacy was being hunted. The night air was thick with tension, electric with the anticipation of violence. It was a world unseen by the ordinary, a shadow realm where life and death danced on the edge of a knife. Here, a man ran not for the thrill, but for his life. His breaths were heavy, his strides desperate. He was a keeper of secrets, a wielder of ancient skills passed down through generations. But tonight, he was prey.
The hunters were relentless, shadows themselves, melding with the darkness. They were The Fraternity, a guild of assassins bound by blood and oath. And they had deemed him a traitor.
The chase ended as abruptly as it began, in a deserted alley with no witnesses. The man fought with the grace and ferocity of a cornered beast, but the numbers were against him. As the final blow was delivered, his last breath was a whisper, a name: “Wesley.”
With his fall, a chapter closed on an ancient lineage. But unbeknownst to The Fraternity, a new chapter was about to begin. For in the heart of the city, a legacy thought extinguished was about to rekindle. The bloodline was not broken; it flowed in the veins of an unsuspecting son. Wesley Gibson was about to awaken to a truth so profound it would shatter his world and rebuild it anew. The journey of a lifetime was about to commence, from the ashes of an ordinary existence to the blaze of an extraordinary destiny.
**Chapter 1: The Unremarkable Life of Wesley Gibson**
Wesley Gibson’s life was a testament to the ordinary, a monument to the mundane. Every day was a carbon copy of the one before: Wake up, swallow a mouthful of anxiety medication, trudge through the grey cityscape to a job that sucked the soul dry, return home, and then rinse and repeat. His existence was a loop of monotony, punctuated by the incessant buzzing of his nagging boss and the silent judgment of his indifferent girlfriend.
His job at the office was as uninspiring as it was unimportant—a cubicle warrior armed with nothing but a keyboard and a mounting sense of worthlessness. The highlight of his day was usually lunch, a brief respite from the drudgery, where the most significant decision he faced was choosing between a sandwich or a salad.
At home, his relationship was on life support, sustained by a mix of apathy and habit rather than any genuine affection. His girlfriend, a vibrant soul when they first met, had gradually succumbed to the same grey existence that now defined Wesley. Their conversations were as empty as the takeout boxes that littered their apartment, a testament to their faded love and shared inertia.
Wesley’s nights were restless, haunted by the feeling that life was passing him by. He was plagued by a chronic sense of inadequacy, a gnawing suspicion that he was meant for something more than this pallid existence. Yet, every morning, he would silence these thoughts with a pill, the modern elixir to numb the discontent of a generation lost to routine.
It was on one of these nondescript days, amidst the symphony of ringing phones and clicking keyboards, that destiny decided to intervene. Wesley’s usual lunchtime reverie was shattered by a piercing headache, a crescendo of pain that seemed to scream a warning. And then, as suddenly as it began, it stopped, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.
Later, at the pharmacy, while waiting in line for his prescription, Wesley felt the weight of someone’s gaze. Turning, he locked eyes with a woman whose presence seemed to command the space around her. She was an enigma, draped in leather, exuding a confidence that Wesley found both intimidating and mesmerizing. Her eyes held a message, a promise of answers to questions Wesley had yet to articulate.
This encounter marked the end of Wesley Gibson’s ordinary life. The fabric of his reality was about to be torn apart, revealing a world of shadows and light, of ancient bloodlines and deadly skills. Unbeknownst to him, Wesley was not just another face in the crowd. He was a legacy, a dormant force awaiting awakening. And awaken he would, to a truth so extraordinary it would catapult him from the depths of his mundane existence into the heart of a hidden war.
A war that had claimed his father, a man Wesley never knew, but whose blood flowed in his veins, a bloodline of assassins. The Fraternity, a secret guild whose roots were as ancient as they were deadly, had come for him. Wesley’s journey from doormat to destiny had begun. The ordinary was about to give way to the extraordinary, and life as Wesley Gibson knew it would never be the same again.
In the dimly lit room of his cramped apartment, Wesley Gibson sat alone, the flickering light of the television casting shadows that danced across his unremarkable features. His life, a monotonous cycle of disappointment and underachievement, seemed to be encapsulated in the stale air that surrounded him. Wesley’s mind was adrift in a sea of existential dread, pondering over the recent news of his father’s death—a man he had never known, a phantom figure who had abandoned him before he even had a chance to form memories.
The digital clock on his bedside table blinked 11:47 PM when a knock shattered the silence of his solitude. Wesley, startled, peered through the peephole to see a woman standing in the hallway. Her appearance was striking, not just for her beauty, but for the way she seemed entirely out of place in the drabness of Wesley’s life. She was dressed in leather, her stance exuding confidence and danger.
Wesley opened the door, his curiosity piqued. “Wesley Gibson?” she asked, her voice smooth and commanding. Before he could respond, the woman grabbed his arm, pulling him out of his apartment with a force that belied her slender frame. “You need to come with me now if you want to live,” she said, a sense of urgency in her voice.
They descended into the chaos of the night, racing through the streets of the city. Wesley, in a state of shock, could barely keep up with the woman’s brisk pace. “Who are you? What’s happening?” he managed to ask between breaths.
“My name is Fox,” she said, not slowing down. “And as for what’s happening, it’s better if I show you.”
Their destination was a derelict building that seemed abandoned. Inside, however, was a different world. Wesley followed Fox through a maze of corridors until they arrived at a vast, dimly lit room. The space was filled with an array of weaponry and technology that Wesley had only seen in movies. Standing in the center was a man, his presence commanding attention.
“Welcome, Wesley, to The Fraternity,” the man said, his voice deep and resonant. “I’m Sloan. I knew your father.”
Wesley’s mind reeled with questions. “My father?” he echoed, the words feeling foreign on his lips.
“Yes, your father was one of us,” Sloan continued, his eyes studying Wesley. “He was part of a secret guild of assassins, dating back centuries. We shape the course of history from the shadows, guided by a code and a loom that decides the fate of those who threaten the balance of the world.”
Wesley laughed, a nervous, disbelieving sound. “Assassins? This has to be some kind of joke.”
“It’s no joke,” Fox interjected, her gaze intense. “Your father was one of our best. And we believe you have the same potential.”
Sloan approached Wesley, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Your life, as you know it, is over. You can choose to walk away, live in mediocrity, and wait for the same fate that befell your father. Or you can join us, find purpose, and wield the power to shape your destiny.”
The room spun around Wesley, the weight of Sloan’s words anchoring him to the spot. The thought of a life beyond the confines of his mundane existence was both terrifying and exhilarating.
“Why me?” Wesley asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Because you are your father’s son,” Sloan said. “And because you have a power within you that you’re not even aware of. We can help you harness it, train you to use it. But the choice is yours.”
Wesley stood at the precipice of a decision that would forever alter the course of his life. The safety of his known world beckoned him to retreat, yet the allure of the unknown, of vengeance and power, whispered promises of transformation.
In that moment, Wesley Gibson, the perennial doormat, made a choice that would shatter his old world and thrust him into a new, shadow-laden existence. “I’ll do it,” he said, his voice steady for the first time in his life. “I’ll join The Fraternity.”
Sloan smiled, a predatory grin that spoke of battles won and enemies vanquished. “Welcome to your new life, Wesley. Let the training begin.”
As Wesley stepped further into the heart of The Fraternity, he could not shake the feeling that he had just signed a pact with the unknown. But one thing was certain: the life of Wesley Gibson, as he knew it, was over. And the birth of a new assassin was about to begin.
Chapter 3: Training Begins
In the dimly lit confines of The Fraternity’s ancient headquarters, hidden beneath the facade of an unassuming textile mill, Wesley Gibson found himself standing on the precipice of a new life. The air was thick with the smell of old leather and gunpowder, a stark contrast to the sterile environment of his former cubicle life. Here, in the shadowy depths of this secret world, Wesley was to be reborn.
The days blurred into one another, each beginning before dawn with Fox, his mentor, rousing him from his restless sleep. The training was brutal, pushing Wesley to the limits of his physical and mental endurance. He was taught the art of stealth, how to move unseen and unheard. He learned the language of combat, from the graceful arc of a knife slash to the controlled burst of gunfire. But it was not just his body that was being honed. Wesley was forced to confront his deepest fears, to break down the walls he had built around his psyche.
The most bewildering aspect of his training involved mastering the ability to curve bullets. The concept defied all logic, yet The Fraternity had perfected this skill, passing it down through generations. Wesley’s initial attempts were clumsy, the bullets veering off target, much to his frustration and the amusement of his fellow trainees. Fox, however, remained unflinchingly patient, guiding him through the process with a firm hand.
“You must unlearn what you have learned about the physical world,” she would say, her voice a constant presence in his ear. “Perception is the enemy of the assassin. Trust in your instincts, not your eyes.”
Wesley’s transformation was not just physical. The constant barrage of challenges stripped away the layers of his old self, revealing a raw, untested core. He found himself questioning the morality of what he was being trained to do. Each night, he lay awake, haunted by the thought of taking a life. Yet, each morning, he rose, driven by the desire to uncover the truth about his father’s death and perhaps, to find a semblance of purpose in this violent new world.
The turning point came one rain-soaked evening, as Wesley stood before a row of inanimate targets. The rain pattered against the metal roof of the shooting range, a rhythmic backdrop to his focused breathing. With a gun in hand, he closed his eyes, reaching out with his senses. He could feel the presence of each target, could sense the path of the bullet before it was even fired. In that moment, he let go of his doubts, his fears, his rational mind.
The gunshot echoed through the range, a sharp exclamation mark in the steady hum of the rain. Wesley opened his eyes to see the bullet had not only curved but had hit the target dead center. A slow smile spread across Fox’s face, the first genuine sign of approval Wesley had received since his arrival.
“You’re ready,” she said, her voice carrying a new weight. “Ready to face your first real test.”
Wesley’s journey through the crucible of The Fraternity’s training regimen was more than a physical transformation; it was a metamorphosis of the soul. The scared, directionless man who had been plucked from his mundane existence was gone, replaced by someone capable of extraordinary things. Yet, as Wesley would soon learn, with great power came not only great responsibility but great peril as well.
The days of training had forged Wesley into a weapon, but it was the battles to come that would test the mettle of his spirit. The Fraternity, for all its ancient wisdom and power, was not a sanctuary but a battleground. And Wesley, its newest soldier, was about to enter the fray, armed with nothing but his newfound skills and the burning need to unravel the mystery of his past.
As Wesley stood on the threshold of his first assignment, he realized that the line between hero and villain was as thin as the blade of a knife. In the world of assassins, morality was a luxury few could afford. The only truth that mattered was survival, and the only rule was to never look back. For Wesley Gibson, the once timid and unremarkable man, the real training was about to begin.
Chapter 4: The Truth about His Father
The air inside the dimly lit room was thick with anticipation, the kind that weighed heavy on Wesley Gibson’s shoulders as he stood before the ancient wooden table that had borne witness to countless decisions of life and death. This room, hidden deep within the labyrinthine corridors of The Fraternity’s headquarters, felt like a world apart from the one Wesley had known—a world where he had been nothing more than a cog in a machine, a doormat trampled over by everyone who crossed his path. Now, he was here, about to uncover a truth that would redefine his very existence.
Fox, the leather-clad warrior who had introduced Wesley to this clandestine realm, stood by his side, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the path he had chosen. “Are you ready?” she asked, her voice steady, betraying none of the tension that Wesley felt coursing through his veins.
Wesley nodded, more out of necessity than conviction. The ancient codex, a tome that contained the history and secrets of The Fraternity, lay open before him. Its pages, yellowed with age, fluttered slightly as though breathing life into the dust motes that danced in the slivers of light piercing the room’s gloom.
“The truth about your father,” Fox continued, her fingers tracing the edge of the page, “is not an easy burden to bear.” Her gaze met Wesley’s, searching, perhaps, for a sign of retreat. But Wesley stood firm, driven by a resolve to understand the legacy of the man who had given him life yet remained a stranger to him.
As Fox began to recount the tale, Wesley’s understanding of the world unraveled and rewove itself into a tapestry of intrigue and betrayal. His father, once believed to be a mere accountant who had abandoned his family, was revealed to be one of The Fraternity’s most esteemed assassins. A man of unparalleled skill and unwavering dedication to the guild’s cause. But it was not his prowess in the art of killing that had defined his fate; it was his defiance.
Wesley learned of a schism within The Fraternity, a division sown by differing ideologies about their role as arbiters of fate. His father had uncovered a plot that threatened the very foundation of their order—a plot masterminded by none other than the current leader, a man whose ambition knew no bounds. In his quest to steer The Fraternity away from its original purpose, this leader had sought to manipulate the ancient loom of fate, intending to rewrite the fabric of destiny itself.
Faced with such corruption, Wesley’s father had made a stand, rallying a faction of loyalists to expose and overthrow the usurper. But he had underestimated his adversary’s reach, falling into a meticulously laid trap that led to his assassination, staged to look like the work of an enemy guild.
As Fox’s narrative unfolded, Wesley felt the ground beneath him shift. The revelation that his father had died a hero, fighting for the principles he believed in, ignited a fire within him. The years of resentment and abandonment gave way to a burgeoning sense of pride and a hunger for justice.
But the truth came with a price. Wesley now found himself at the heart of a war that had claimed his father’s life—a war that The Fraternity’s leader was unaware had just gained a new combatant. With each word that Fox spoke, Wesley felt the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place, revealing a picture that was both exhilarating and terrifying.
“The path before you is fraught with danger,” Fox warned, her voice a solemn echo in the now silent room. “Seeking vengeance for your father’s death will pit you against forces that have remained unchallenged for decades. Are you prepared to face that?”
Wesley’s response was a whisper, yet it carried the weight of a vow spoken in the presence of the ghosts that haunted these ancient walls. “I am.”
The decision made, Fox led Wesley away from the codex and towards the chamber that housed The Fraternity’s arsenal. With each step, Wesley felt the legacy of his father coursing through him, a silent guide on the journey he was about to embark upon.
As he selected the weapons that would accompany him on his quest, Wesley realized that the truth about his father had not just given him a purpose; it had bestowed upon him a legacy—a legacy of courage, honor, and an unyielding commitment to justice. In embracing this legacy, Wesley Gibson, once a nobody, had stepped into the light, ready to confront the shadows that had claimed his father and, in doing so, forge his own destiny.
The chapter closes on Wesley, standing tall amidst the arsenal of The Fraternity, a determined look in his eyes that spoke of the battles to come. He was no longer the doormat Wesley Gibson; he was a warrior, an avenger, a son ready to reclaim his father’s honor and reshape his destiny. The journey ahead was fraught with peril, but for the first time in his life, Wesley felt truly alive, for he had something worth fighting for—justice, vengeance, and the chance to write his own story.
Chapter 5: The First Assignment
The neon lights of the city blurred into streaks as Wesley Gibson sped through the night, his heart pounding in his chest with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. He had left behind the Wesley who was shackled by the mundane, the Wesley who drowned in the sea of insignificance. In his place was someone new, someone dangerous—a weapon honed by The Fraternity.
Fox sat beside him, her presence a constant reminder of the path he had chosen. She was enigmatic, a puzzle he was simultaneously intrigued by and wary of. Her guidance had been unforgiving, her methods brutal, but under her tutelage, Wesley had discovered a part of himself he never knew existed. He had embraced the chaos, learned to curve bullets, to listen to his heartbeat, to move with a predator’s grace. Yet, as they neared their destination, doubt crept into his mind, casting long shadows over his newfound confidence.
The car came to a halt in a derelict part of the city, where the darkness seemed to consume the light. “Remember, Wesley, hesitation is death,” Fox’s voice cut through the silence, her tone sharp, yet not devoid of warmth. She handed him a photograph of a man, middle-aged, with a gaze that seemed to pierce through the paper. “Your target,” she said, her words a weight he felt compelled to carry.
Wesley studied the photograph, committing the man’s features to memory. This was no longer a training exercise; the man in the picture was real, his life resting in Wesley’s hands. The gravity of his task settled in, a heavy cloak around his shoulders. “What did he do?” Wesley asked, seeking some semblance of justification.
“He’s part of a drug ring, responsible for countless deaths. Tonight, you’ll deliver justice,” Fox replied, her gaze fixed on the horizon, as if she could already see the outcome of the night’s events.
The word “justice” echoed in Wesley’s mind as he stepped out of the car. The night air was cool against his skin, a stark contrast to the fire that burned within him. He felt the weight of the gun tucked into the waistband of his jeans, a constant reminder of the choice he had made to walk this path.
He moved through the shadows with a purpose, each step taking him closer to the point of no return. The building loomed ahead, a decrepit structure that seemed to whisper secrets of its own. Wesley’s training took over, his body moving on instinct as he navigated the maze of corridors, each turn bringing him closer to his target.
The sound of his heartbeat filled his ears, a rhythmic drum that guided his movements. He found the door, behind which his target awaited, unaware of the fate that lurked in the shadows. Wesley’s hand hesitated on the doorknob, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. This was it—the moment of truth.
He burst through the door, the element of surprise on his side. The man from the photograph stood across the room, shock registering on his face for a mere second before he reached for his own weapon. But Wesley was faster, his training manifesting in the curve of the bullet that found its mark.
The man crumpled to the ground, life extinguishing in his eyes. Wesley stood over him, the echoes of the gunshot reverberating through the room, mirroring the turmoil within him. He had taken a life, crossed a line from which there was no return. The weight of his actions settled in, a burden he would carry forever.
Fox’s words came back to him, “Hesitation is death.” But as he stood there, the smoke from the gun barrel curling into the air, Wesley realized that the true death was the loss of a part of himself, a piece of his humanity that he would never reclaim.
He left the building as silently as he had entered, the night swallowing him whole. The city lights blurred once more as they drove back, but this time, the darkness seemed to cling to him, a constant reminder of the path he had chosen.
The Fraternity had molded him into a weapon, but at what cost? Wesley had sought purpose, a means to fill the void within him, but as he looked into the night, he wondered if the price of belonging was too high. The first assignment was complete, but it marked the beginning of a journey that would test the very limits of his soul.
The car came to a stop outside his apartment, the world seemingly unchanged by the night’s events. But Wesley knew better; he had changed, irrevocably. As he watched Fox drive away, he realized that the journey ahead was one he had to walk alone, each step a testament to the choices he had made.
Wesley climbed the stairs to his apartment, the weight of the gun in his waistband a constant reminder of the night. He stepped into the silence of his home, the reality of his actions settling in. He was no longer the man who had left this apartment earlier that night; he was a killer, a member of The Fraternity.
The excitement of his newfound abilities had been replaced by the haunting realization of what they were meant for. Wesley understood that this was only the beginning, that there would be more assignments, more lives to take. The path he had chosen was lined with shadows, each step taking him further into the darkness.
As he lay in bed, the events of the night replaying in his mind, Wesley realized that the true battle was not with the targets he was assigned to eliminate, but with himself. The Fraternity had awakened something within him, a darkness that threatened to consume him. He had sought purpose, but at what cost?
The night’s silence was a stark contrast to the turmoil within Wesley. He had taken his first step into a world of shadows, a world where right and wrong blurred into a singular path of vengeance and retribution. The journey ahead was uncertain, fraught with danger and moral ambiguity. But one thing was clear: Wesley Gibson was no longer a doormat; he was a weapon, forged by The Fraternity, destined to walk the fine line between justice and vengeance.
As dawn broke, casting a pale light into the room, Wesley knew that there was no turning back. He had embarked on a journey from which there was no return, a path that would test the very limits of his soul. The first assignment was complete, but it was only the beginning of Wesley’s transformation. The Fraternity had molded him into a killer, but the true challenge lay in navigating the darkness without losing himself in the process.
Chapter 6: Betrayals and Revelations
The night air was thick with tension, the moon a silent witness to the turmoil brewing within Wesley Gibson. The once unremarkable man, who had lived his life in the shadows of insignificance, was now caught in the throes of a truth so bewildering, it threatened to unravel the very fabric of his reality. The Fraternity, the secret guild of assassins that had become both his sanctuary and battlefield, was mired in deception deeper than the blood on its hands.
Wesley’s journey from a cubicle-bound drone to a formidable assassin was nothing short of miraculous, a testament to the dormant potential that lay within him, awakened by Fox’s intervention. But with every life he took, every curve of the bullet that obeyed his will, a part of him recoiled, questioning the morality of his actions. The revelation about his father, a man he had never known, yet whose legacy he was unwittingly following, had anchored him to The Fraternity. Yet, the same revelation now threatened to be his undoing.
The seeds of doubt were sown when Wesley intercepted a conversation not meant for his ears. Two senior members of The Fraternity, cloaked in the anonymity of the night, spoke in hushed tones about the Loom of Fate, the mystical oracle that dictated the names of their targets. The reverence with which they spoke of the Loom had always unsettled Wesley, but it was the revelation that the Loom had been manipulated, its sacred mission perverted for personal gain, that shattered his belief in the cause he had been serving.
The days that followed were a blur of surveillance and subterfuge as Wesley sought the truth. His training had honed his instincts to a razor’s edge, allowing him to navigate the web of lies with the precision of the bullets he had mastered. He followed leads, eavesdropped on conversations, and pieced together the puzzle with a single-minded determination that would have made his father proud.
The truth, when it finally emerged, was a mosaic of betrayal and ambition. The leader of The Fraternity, Sloan, had been manipulating the Loom’s outputs, eliminating threats to his power while enriching himself through contracts with the global elite. The noble purpose Wesley had been sold, the eradication of evil for the greater good, was a facade masking a more sinister reality.
Armed with the knowledge of Sloan’s treachery, Wesley confronted Fox, the woman who had been both mentor and muse. The confrontation was charged with a palpable intensity, a clash of ideals and emotions that left both reeling.
“Why?” Wesley demanded, the word a bullet in itself, fired from the gun of his betrayal.
Fox’s eyes, once pools of unwavering certainty, flickered with doubt. “We believed in the cause, Wesley. We believed in the Loom. To question it… to question Sloan… was to question our very purpose.”
“But it was all a lie, Fox. A lie we killed for.” Wesley’s voice broke, the weight of his actions, once justified by belief, now crushing him with guilt.
The conversation with Fox was a turning point for Wesley. It stripped away the last vestiges of his naivety, leaving him to grapple with the reality of his existence. He was no longer the pawn in Sloan’s game; he was a player, a dangerous adversary with nothing left to lose.
In the days that followed, Wesley moved with a singular purpose, a shadow amongst shadows, gathering allies from those within The Fraternity disillusioned by Sloan’s betrayal. Together, they plotted the downfall of the man who had once been their leader, their mentor, their god.
The plan was audacious, a direct assault on the heart of The Fraternity. Wesley knew it was a suicide mission, but the fire of vengeance that burned within him illuminated a path fraught with danger yet unyielding in its pursuit of justice.
The night of the confrontation arrived, a tempest brewing in the darkness. Wesley and his allies, a band of renegades bound by a shared sense of betrayal, infiltrated The Fraternity’s stronghold. The air was electric with anticipation, every shadow a potential enemy, every sound a harbinger of death.
Sloan awaited them, his hubris a beacon in the darkness. The confrontation was inevitable, a clash of wills forged in the crucible of betrayal. Words were exchanged, accusations hurled like daggers, but it was the silence that followed, heavy with the weight of imminent death, that spoke volumes.
The battle was a maelstrom of violence, a dance of death choreographed by fate. Wesley moved amongst his enemies with a grace born of vengeance, every strike a testament to his resolve. The Fraternity’s members fell, one by one, until only Sloan remained, the architect of their downfall.
The final confrontation between Wesley and Sloan was a catharsis, a purging of the lies and deception that had bound them. When the dust settled, Sloan lay defeated, his empire of lies in ruins.
Wesley emerged from the confrontation a changed man, the ghosts of his past laid to rest alongside the men he had once called brothers. The Fraternity was no more, its legacy a cautionary tale of power and betrayal. Wesley’s path forward was uncertain, but he was no longer the man who had walked into The Fraternity’s embrace, a doormat destined for greatness.
In the aftermath of the betrayal and revelations, Wesley Gibson had found not just the truth about his father and The Fraternity but also about himself. He was no longer a pawn in someone else’s game; he was the master of his destiny, a destiny forged in the fires of vengeance and tempered by the harsh truths of his journey. The chapter closed on Wesley’s past, but his story, the story of a man reborn from the ashes of his former life, was just beginning.
Chapter 7: The Ultimate Showdown
Wesley Gibson stood alone, the remnants of his old life scattered around him like the ashes of a forgotten world. The once timid account manager, plagued by anxiety and an overwhelming sense of insignificance, had been reborn. The transformation was not merely physical, although the months of relentless training had sculpted his body into a weapon. No, the most profound change was internal. Wesley’s heart now beat with a purpose, fuelled by the revelations that had upended his world.
The Fraternity, a secret guild of assassins that had claimed his father and, by blood, him, was not the noble order he had been led to believe. The weaves of lies and manipulation had been unraveled, revealing a core rotten with betrayal and a thirst for power. The very people who had shaped him into a killer were responsible for his father’s murder—a betrayal that ignited a fire within Wesley.
As he stood in the dim light of the abandoned warehouse that served as the final battleground, Wesley felt the weight of solitude. His allies, once considered mentors and friends, were now adversaries. Each step he took echoed in the vast emptiness, a stark reminder of his journey from the mundane to the extraordinary.
The silence was shattered by the screech of a door, its rusted hinges protesting as it swung open. Silhouetted against the weak glow of the setting sun, the figure of Sloan, the leader of The Fraternity, appeared. Behind him, the elite assassins, the very best The Fraternity had to offer, filed in with a predatory grace. Wesley’s pulse quickened, not out of fear, but anticipation. This was the culmination of his quest for vengeance, the moment his father’s voice, silent for so long, would find justice.
Sloan’s voice cut through the tension, “Wesley, you’ve become quite the thorn in our side. It’s impressive, really, how far you’ve come. But it ends now.”
Wesley’s response was a smirk, a silent challenge that spoke volumes. He had learned the hard way that words were often as deadly as bullets, but in this final confrontation, actions would speak louder.
The first assassin lunged, a blur of motion aimed directly at Wesley. The lessons of the past months kicked in, and Wesley moved with a fluidity that belied his novice status. The dance of death began, a ballet of bullets and blades. Wesley’s ability to curve bullets, once a mere curiosity, became his signature, each shot a deadly arc finding its mark.
Yet, with every foe he dispatched, two more seemed to take their place. Wesley was a whirlwind of destruction, but even whirlwinds tire. As the bodies piled up, Wesley’s breath grew ragged, his movements slower. It was then that Sloan made his move.
Striding forward with the confidence of a man who has never known defeat, Sloan drew his weapon, a custom-made gun that seemed to whisper death. “You could have been great, Wesley. You could have ruled by my side,” Sloan taunted, aiming the gun at Wesley’s heart.
It was a moment frozen in time, the culmination of betrayal and bloodshed. Wesley, with nowhere left to run, did the unexpected. He laughed, a sound that echoed with defiance. “I’d rather die than become you,” he spat, and with a flick of his wrist, he sent a bullet curving towards Sloan.
But Sloan was no ordinary adversary. With a speed that seemed impossible, he dodged the bullet, the smile never leaving his face. “Pity,” he murmured, firing his weapon.
The bullet sped towards Wesley, a harbinger of death. But fate, it seemed, had one last card to play. In a twist that none could have predicted, Fox, once Wesley’s mentor, now his declared enemy, stepped into the path of the bullet. Time slowed as the bullet found its mark, not in Wesley, but in Fox.
As she fell, the world seemed to pause, a silent tribute to her sacrifice. Sloan, in his shock, faltered, giving Wesley the opening he needed. With a roar of rage and grief, Wesley unleashed a barrage of bullets, each one a promise of retribution.
Sloan fell, his empire of lies crumbling with him.
In the aftermath, as Wesley stood amidst the ruin of The Fraternity, he was not the victorious hero of stories. He was a man who had avenged his father, yes, but at what cost? Around him lay the bodies of those he had killed, each a reminder of the line he had crossed. The silence of the warehouse was oppressive, a tomb for the life he could no longer return to.
Wesley walked out of the warehouse, the setting sun casting long shadows that seemed to stretch towards the horizon. He had sought vengeance and found it, but the journey had changed him, leaving scars that would never fully heal.
The ultimate showdown had ended, but for Wesley Gibson, the fight was far from over. The world of assassins and secret societies was behind him, but the battle for his soul, for redemption, was just beginning.
Chapter 8: A New Beginning or The End?
Wesley stood amidst the chaos of what was once the sanctum of The Fraternity, the clandestine guild of assassins that had become both his crucible and his home. The air was thick with dust and the acrid smell of gunpowder, a testament to the ferocity of the battle that had just taken place. The bodies of those he had once called brothers and sisters lay strewn about, their lifeless eyes staring up at a ceiling that no longer existed, open to the indifferent stars above.
He had walked into this with a heart heavy with vengeance, seeking retribution for the father he had never known, and now, as the adrenaline ebbed away, he was left with the silence of victory, a victory that tasted suspiciously like ash. The leader of The Fraternity, the man who had ordered his father’s death and had tried to shape Wesley into a weapon of blind obedience, lay defeated at his feet. The battle had been brutal, a dance of bullets and blood, but in the end, Wesley’s resolve had carried him through.
Yet, as he stood there, the weight of his actions bore down on him. Wesley had become the very thing he sought to destroy: a killer. The realization was a bitter pill, and it gnawed at the edges of his newfound freedom. He had dismantled The Fraternity, yes, but at what cost? The faces of those he had killed haunted him, a specter of guilt that would likely never leave his side.
The night was eerily silent, the kind of silence that follows the storm, filled with the echoes of what had been and the shadows of what was to come. Wesley’s thoughts turned to Fox, the leather-clad enigma who had dragged him into this world. She had been his mentor, his ally, and, at times, his adversary. In the end, she had chosen her path, and it had led her away from him, leaving Wesley to face his destiny alone.
As he sifted through the rubble, Wesley found the Loom of Fate, the ancient device that had dictated the actions of The Fraternity for centuries. It was a reminder of the power that had once controlled his life, deciding who would live and who would die. With a surge of defiance, Wesley destroyed it, severing the last tie to a past he wanted to leave behind. It was a symbolic gesture, perhaps, but it was his way of claiming his future.
But what future could he have? Wesley pondered this as he watched the first light of dawn creep over the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. He was free from The Fraternity, but he was also untethered, adrift in a world that had moved on without him. He could try to go back to his old life, but he was no longer the man who had stumbled through life, numb and unfeeling. That Wesley had died the moment he pulled the trigger for the first time.
No, there was no going back. The only way was forward, but the path was unclear. Wesley realized that he had a choice to make. He could disappear, live off the grid and spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder. Or, he could use the skills he had acquired for something greater. The Fraternity had been founded on principles that had been twisted and corrupted over time, but perhaps Wesley could rebuild it, mold it into something that stood for justice rather than blind obedience.
The decision weighed heavily on him, a burden that was his alone to bear. As the sun rose higher, casting long shadows across the ruins of The Fraternity, Wesley made his choice. He would start anew, but this time, he would set the rules. He would be the architect of his own destiny, not a pawn in someone else’s game.
Wesley walked away from the ruins, the first step on a journey whose end he could not see. It was a path fraught with danger and uncertainty, but it was his to walk. The past, with all its pain and betrayal, would always be a part of him, but it would not define him. Wesley Gibson was no longer a doormat, nor was he a blind follower of fate. He was a warrior, tempered in the fires of vengeance, but forged anew with the promise of redemption.
As the city awakened around him, oblivious to the battle that had raged through the night, Wesley felt a sense of purpose fill him. It was a faint glimmer of hope, but it was enough. He had chosen to rebuild, to fight not for revenge, but for the chance at a better future. It was a new beginning, fraught with challenges, but Wesley faced it head-on, a man reborn from the ashes of his old life.
And so, Wesley Gibson stepped into the light of the new day, leaving the shadows of his past behind. The road ahead was uncertain, but he was ready to face whatever came his way. For the first time in his life, Wesley was truly alive, and he was not afraid.
Some scenes from the movie Wanted written by A.I.
Scene 1
**Title: The Unseen Legacy**
**Genre: Action/Thriller**
—
**FADE IN:**
**INT. CUBICLE – DAY**
*A sea of identical cubicles under fluorescent lights. WESLEY GIBSON (20s), thin, pale, with an air of defeat, stares blankly at his computer screen, surrounded by stacks of paperwork.*
**CUT TO:**
*Wesley’s hand shaking as he clicks the mouse. A pop-up ad flashes: “Are you living the life you’re meant to?” He quickly closes it.*
**WESLEY (V.O.)**
*(monotone)*
Here I am, Wesley Gibson. No one. Nothing. Just another drone in the hive.
**CUT TO:**
**INT. OFFICE BREAK ROOM – DAY**
*Wesley sits alone, eating a bland sandwich. Co-workers laugh in the background, ignoring him.*
**WESLEY (V.O.)**
*(continuing)*
Invisible. That’s me. Wesley the ghost.
**CUT TO:**
**INT. WESLEY’S APARTMENT – NIGHT**
*Wesley’s girlfriend, CATHY, is passionately kissing BARRY, Wesley’s best friend. Wesley walks in, sees them, but just sighs and heads to the fridge.*
**WESLEY (V.O.)**
*(bitterly)*
Even the betrayal feels mundane.
**CATHY**
*(not even looking at Wesley)*
Oh, hey, Wes. You’re out of milk.
**WESLEY**
*(defeated)*
I’ll get some tomorrow.
**BARRY**
*(smugly)*
Hey, buddy, don’t forget the eggs.
*Wesley nods, defeated, and heads to his room, closing the door.*
**CUT TO:**
**INT. WESLEY’S ROOM – NIGHT**
*Wesley lies on his bed, staring at the ceiling. His phone buzzes. A text message: “Your father is dead.”*
**WESLEY (V.O.)**
*(confused)*
Father? What father?
**CUT TO:**
**INT. FUNERAL HOME – DAY**
*Wesley stands awkwardly at the back of a funeral service for a man he never knew. Mourners whisper, glancing at him.*
**MOURNER #1**
*(whispering)*
That’s him. The son.
**MOURNER #2**
*(whispering)*
He looks nothing like his father.
*Wesley looks around, feeling more out of place than ever.*
**WESLEY (V.O.)**
*(reflectively)*
A whole life lived, and I’m just finding out. Who was he?
**CUT TO:**
*A mysterious figure, FOX (30s, tough, enigmatic), watches Wesley from afar. She steps forward, catching Wesley’s attention.*
**FOX**
*(softly, yet firmly)*
Wesley Gibson?
**WESLEY**
*(startled)*
Yes?
**FOX**
Your life’s about to change. Ready to say goodbye to Wesley the ghost?
*Wesley looks at her, perplexed and slightly intrigued.*
**WESLEY**
Who are you?
**FOX**
The beginning of your real life.
**CUT TO BLACK:**
**END OF CHAPTER 1**
**FADE OUT.**
Scene 2
**Screenplay Title: “The Unseen Order”**
**Based on Chapter 2: The Fraternity Revealed**
—
**EXT. DOWNTOWN STREET – DAY**
*Wesley Gibson, a slender, average-looking man in his late twenties, walks down a busy street, his eyes glued to the ground, lost in thought. Suddenly, a bullet whizzes past his ear, shattering the window behind him. Panic ensues as people scream and scatter.*
**WESLEY**
(terrified, to himself)
What the hell?!
*Suddenly, FOX, a striking woman dressed in sleek, black leather, grabs Wesley by the arm and pulls him into a sprint.*
**FOX**
(yelling over the chaos)
Move! Now!
—
**INT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE – DAY**
*Fox and Wesley, catching their breaths after a dizzying escape, stand in the dim light of an abandoned warehouse. Wesley is bewildered and scared.*
**WESLEY**
(panicked)
Who are you? Why are people shooting at me?!
**FOX**
(calm and collected)
Your father was one of the greatest assassins who ever lived. You’re in danger because of who he was.
**WESLEY**
(disbelief)
My father was an accountant.
**FOX**
(smirking)
That’s what they wanted you to believe. He was part of The Fraternity. And now, they want you.
—
**INT. FRATERNITY HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT**
*Fox leads Wesley through a grand, ancient-looking hall adorned with weapons and portraits of assassins. They approach SLOAN, a charismatic and authoritative man in his fifties.*
**FOX**
This is Wesley. He’s ready.
**SLOAN**
(approaching Wesley, inspecting him)
Your father was one of our best. But being part of us is not inherited. It’s earned.
**WESLEY**
(defiantly)
I didn’t ask for any of this.
**SLOAN**
(nodding, a small smile)
And yet, here you are. We can offer you the truth and skills your father possessed. The choice is yours.
*Wesley looks around, the weight of his decision pressing down on him.*
**WESLEY**
(quietly)
What do I have to do?
**SLOAN**
Welcome to The Fraternity. Your training begins tomorrow. Be ready.
—
**EXT. FRATERNITY HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT**
*Wesley steps outside, taking a deep breath. He looks up at the stars, a mix of fear and determination in his eyes.*
**WESLEY**
(to himself)
What have I gotten myself into?
*The camera pulls back to show the grandeur of the headquarters, then cuts to black.*
**END OF SCENE**
Scene 3
**Title: The Fraternity’s Apprentice**
**Genre: Action/Thriller**
—
**FADE IN:**
**INT. THE FRATERNITY’S TRAINING FACILITY – DAY**
*The vast, dimly lit room is filled with an array of weapons and training equipment. WESLEY (30s), looking determined yet visibly anxious, stands at one end of the room. SLOAN (40s), the enigmatic leader of The Fraternity, observes from the sidelines. FOX (30s), a skilled assassin and Wesley’s mentor, stands ready to begin the training.*
**FOX**
*(encouragingly)*
Remember, Wesley, it’s not about strength. It’s about precision, about unlocking what’s already inside you.
*Fox hands Wesley a gun. He weighs it in his hand, unfamiliar and uncomfortable.*
**WESLEY**
*(half-joking, half-serious)*
And if what’s inside me is just… sheer panic?
*Fox smirks, unamused.*
**FOX**
Then you’ll die. Probably.
*Sloan steps forward, his gaze piercing.*
**SLOAN**
Enough. Wesley, your father was one of our best. It’s time to see if you’re anything like him.
*Sloan nods at Fox, who steps back. Wesley looks down the range at the target.*
**SLOAN (CONT’D)**
*(commanding)*
Curve the bullet.
*Wesley raises the gun, aiming at the target straight ahead. He remembers Fox’s instructions, tries to visualize the curve, but hesitates.*
**WESLEY**
*(muttering to himself)*
This is insane.
*He fires. The bullet goes straight, missing the intended target and hitting the wall.*
**SLOAN**
*(disappointed)*
Again.
*Fox steps in, demonstrating the motion fluidly, her body and the gun moving as one. She fires, and the bullet curves beautifully, hitting the target dead center.*
**FOX**
*(to Wesley)*
Feel the path of the bullet. It’s an extension of your will.
*Wesley nods, focusing. He raises the gun again, closing one eye, breathing out slowly. This time, when he fires, the bullet curves, grazing the target.*
**WESLEY**
*(astonished)*
I did it…
**SLOAN**
*(approvingly)*
Again.
*The training intensifies. Wesley practices relentlessly, gradually improving. His shots become more precise, his confidence grows. Fox pushes him harder, and Sloan watches, a hint of a smile on his face.*
**FOX**
*(impressed)*
You’re getting it. Your father would be proud.
*Wesley, exhausted but exhilarated, finally hits the bullseye. He lowers the gun, looking at Fox and Sloan, a sense of belonging beginning to take root.*
**WESLEY**
*(determined)*
What’s next?
**SLOAN**
*(nodding at Fox)*
She’ll tell you. For now, rest. Tomorrow, you become an assassin.
*Fox offers Wesley a nod of respect, and for the first time, Wesley feels he might just belong to something greater than he ever imagined.*
**CUT TO BLACK.**
—
*The scene encapsulates Wesley’s transformation from a hesitant novice to a confident trainee, hinting at his potential to become a skilled assassin. The dynamic between Wesley, Fox, and Sloan sets the stage for the challenges and conflicts to come.*
Scene 4
**Title: Fractured Legacy**
**Genre: Action/Thriller**
**Chapter Adaptation: Chapter 4 – The Truth about His Father**
—
**INT. THE FRATERNITY’S ARCHIVE ROOM – NIGHT**
*The room is dimly lit, shelves packed with ancient manuscripts and high-tech screens displaying digital archives. WESLEY, now more confident and physically formidable, stands before a large, interactive screen, scrolling through files under the watchful eye of FOX, a woman whose beauty is matched only by her lethality.*
**WESLEY**
(whispers, almost to himself)
There has to be something here… something they’re not telling me.
*Fox crosses her arms, watching him intently, a hint of concern in her eyes.*
**FOX**
You won’t like what you find, Wesley.
*Wesley stops scrolling, his finger hovering over an encrypted file named “Legacy Secrets”. He looks at Fox, determination in his eyes.*
**WESLEY**
That’s for me to decide.
*He taps the file, and after a brief moment of decryption, documents and videos start to flood the screen. Wesley’s father, a man with a striking resemblance to Wesley but with a hardened edge, appears in several assassination missions.*
**WESLEY**
(voice breaking)
He was one of the best…
*Fox nods, stepping closer.*
**FOX**
Your father wasn’t just part of The Fraternity. He was contemplating its destruction. He believed we’d lost our way.
*A video starts playing, showing Wesley’s father in a heated argument with SLOAN, the enigmatic leader of The Fraternity.*
**WESLEY’S FATHER (V.O.)**
We were supposed to be the hand of fate, not its twisted shadow.
*Sloan’s cold voice responds, filled with menace.*
**SLOAN (V.O.)**
And for your betrayal, you’ll meet the fate you so dearly wish to control.
*The screen goes black. Wesley stands, frozen, the truth hitting him like a bullet.*
**WESLEY**
They killed him… because he wanted to stop them.
*Fox places a hand on his shoulder, her expression one of shared pain and resolve.*
**FOX**
And now, you know why you were really brought here. Not just for your skills, but for your bloodline. Your father’s rebellion lives on through you.
*Wesley looks at Fox, a newfound purpose igniting within him.*
**WESLEY**
Then we finish what he started. We bring them down.
*Fox nods, a pact formed in the shadows of the past.*
**FOX**
Together.
**CUT TO BLACK.**
—
*This pivotal scene sets the stage for Wesley’s transformation from a reluctant assassin to a leader determined to honor his father’s legacy by dismantling the very organization that made him.*
Scene 5
### Screenplay: “The Unseen Path”
#### Scene: Chapter 5 – The First Assignment
**INT. THE FRATERNITY’S HEADQUARTERS – NIGHT**
*The dimly lit room is filled with ancient weapons and artifacts. WESLEY, now more confident and physically fit, stands before SLOAN, the enigmatic leader of The Fraternity. FOX, the woman who introduced Wesley to this new world, leans against the wall, watching intently.*
**SLOAN**
(gravely)
Wesley, your training is complete. It’s time for your first assignment.
*Wesley nods, his face a mask of determination.*
**WESLEY**
I’m ready.
**SLOAN**
(places a file on the table)
Your target is a corrupt businessman. He’s been laundering money for criminal organizations worldwide. You take him out, you save countless lives.
*Wesley picks up the file, scanning the contents.*
**WESLEY**
(quietly)
When do I start?
**SLOAN**
Tonight. And Wesley, remember, The Fraternity doesn’t give second chances.
**CUT TO:**
**EXT. BUSINESSMAN’S LUXURY ESTATE – NIGHT**
*Wesley, clad in black, scopes out the estate from the shadows. He checks his gun, a custom piece given to him by The Fraternity.*
**WESLEY**
(to himself)
Let’s make this count.
*He moves with precision, taking out security cameras and avoiding guards.*
**CUT TO:**
**INT. BUSINESSMAN’S OFFICE – NIGHT**
*The businessman is at his desk, unaware of the danger. Wesley silently enters through the window. He aims his gun, finger on the trigger. Suddenly, the businessman turns, revealing a child playing with toys in the corner.*
**BUSINESSMAN**
(pleading)
Please, not in front of my son.
*Wesley lowers his gun slightly, conflict evident on his face.*
**WESLEY**
(whispering)
Get him out of here.
*The businessman nods, quickly ushering his son out of the room. Once they’re gone, Wesley steels himself and aims again.*
**CUT TO:**
**EXT. ESTATE – MOMENTS LATER**
*Wesley exits the estate, his mission accomplished. He removes a small device from his pocket and presses a button, sending a signal to The Fraternity. As he walks away, his expression is haunted, the weight of his actions sinking in.*
**WESLEY**
(to himself)
What have I become?
**CUT TO BLACK.**
—
*This scene sets the stage for Wesley’s internal conflict and the moral dilemmas he will face as he delves deeper into the world of The Fraternity. The suspense builds as viewers are left to ponder how Wesley will reconcile his new life with his personal ethics.*
