Chapter 8: Bloodshed

With the fiberglass cast split open, Brandon observed his forearm. No rash, no swelling, no peeling skin; his hand was perfect for handling Cerberus. But when he flexed his wrist, an invisible force from within slowed his movement slightly. Not too perfect.

Lifting the tray of cut-up cast from the trolley, William told Brandon, "Well, your wrist has been in a cast for about two days, Sir. It won't take too long until it can move properly, though. After all, it's just been two days, not two months."

Whatever the doctor said, Brandon thought a rigorous practice would relieve his stiffness. So he flexed his wrist a few more times, but the activity yielded no improvement.

This stiff hand would surely affect his aim, and he had to think of a solution unless he wanted Charles to flatten him again. With such an awkward hand, he might want to fire a few crippling shots first, preferably bullets to the knees. He could then finish Charles off with a headshot.

But he had to be careful of incoming attacks, too. A simple blow to his healing gunshot wounds would surely hurt.

All of a sudden, the trailer's door opened, and Mika barged in. Holding up a folded newspaper, she ran to him. "Brandon! Look at the headline news!"

Brandon took the newspaper and read it. A picture of a green-skinned giant running down the pavement lay on the newspaper; however, the photographer only managed to capture the ogre's back.

Standing beside Brandon, Mika pointed at the image of the giant. "It's Charles. Watched the TV when I took the newspaper. People said that this giant looked like a doctor from a clinic at Kite Street."

Brandon scanned the block of text below. Last seen heading to the residential area of Billion. Perfect. Now, he only had to wait for Cerberus.

"Y-you know, I haven't thought that he'd make it into the n-news... Now, I feel bad for his mom," Mika stammered. "She must've known that her son is a n-necrolyzer."

And a mother would never abandon her son, no matter what he had become. Brandon sighed. Sara's presence in his mission would only complicate things; who knew if she might just jump into the line of fire? Brandon hated killing an innocent old lady, especially the one who had helped him a while back.

Suddenly Mika snaked her arms around him and said, "At first, I hated Charles so much for what he had done to you. Just like everybody else in Millennion, I really wanted him dead." She hugged him tighter. "But now, I remembered his mom. She was a nice old lady." Her sobs crept into Brandon's ears. "I just...don't know what to do. If you kill Charles-"

"We have to get rid of him, Mika." Brandon returned her embrace with a small smile. "He's a threat to all of us."

Mika pulled away, revealing her teary eyes. "Isn't there another way?"

"I don't think I can resolve this peacefully." Smile fading, he looked down. "Charles hated me, and he had a reason. A while back, I destroyed Harry's research facility without giving a second thought about all the workers there. I did it out of vengeance and ruined Charles' life by accident."

"But if y-you try, I think you c-can just end this without f-fighting."

"That's impossible, Miss," William butted in. "Charles is now a necrolyzer. If necrolyzers ever hate something, they'll only have this in mind: make that thing suffer."

After a moment of silence, Mika said, "Then...everything is up to you, Brandon."


If Charles hadn't hated him so much, Brandon wouldn't have hesitated to negotiate with him. Unlike many others out there, his mother had treated him kindly. Kindness had to be repaid with kindness.

But still, Millennion came first. That necrolyzer had killed many innocent Millennion men; if Brandon didn't stop him, more would die.

Gentle knocks came from the door, and Brandon lowered the newspaper. Mika immediately walked towards the double door and opened it. A black steel suitcase stood beside Biscoe, its handle pulled up.

"Lay out the ramp, please," Biscoe requested. "These guns are heavy."

After pushing the other door open, Mika pulled the lever on the wall beside it. A wide metallic plate jutted out of the ledge and crashed down before Biscoe, forming a ramp.

"Thank you." Biscoe dragged the suitcase into the trailer and approached Brandon. "How are you feeling now?"

Brandon replied with a thumbs-up and a smile. Better not talk about my stiff hand.

"What about your old gunshot wounds? Do they still hurt?"

"A little."

"Good. Well, here's Cerberus." Laying the suitcase down on the floor, Biscoe crouched. He opened the case, revealing a twin pair of handguns. The big cross emblazoned on the barrel distinguished them; one had a red cross while the other had a white one.

Biscoe picked up one of the guns with both of his hands. Wincing, he stood up slowly whilst struggling to keep the gigantic handgun in his grasp. Although he knew it wasn't polite, Brandon snatched the firearm to ease Biscoe's burden.

Fortunately, Biscoe only laughed softly. "Necrolyzers have immense strength, don't they?"

Brandon nodded, his gaze falling to the red cross on the gun's massive barrel. This gun... It felt so good to be able to feel its cold steel with his palm and fingers again. He twirled it around his trigger finger before tossing it into the air. Then, he caught it back with his hand and held it across his chest.

"I thought your hand was stiff earlier." William chuckled, walking past Brandon's armchair. "Or maybe you're so excited that you've forgotten about that? Well, that's understandable. I bet getting your old guns back feels like reuniting with your long lost family."

"I entrust this task to you, Brandon." Biscoe dragged the suitcase closer to Brandon. "Charles was last seen at the residential area, near a house with a big hole." Anger suddenly brimmed in his voice. "Get rid of him ASAP. That bastard killed two Millennion men this morning."

Brandon's smile faded into a look of shock, which quickly passed into a frown. That's it. You've gone far beyond what is acceptable, Charles. With the target's location specified and Cerberus ready, this wouldn't take too long...as long as Sara didn't interfere.


Sunlight glinted off the windows of Millennion Tower. The skyscraper gradually disappeared from Brandon's sight as the van sped along the road. A slow, mellow tune from the radio accompanied the whirring engine.

Sitting still in his wheelchair with Cerberus on his lap, Brandon looked left and right through the windows. Who knew if he would spot a hellhound or two? Like Charles, those necrolyzed dogs also posed a threat to Millennion and had to die.

However, even after passing many houses, Brandon saw no hellhound around the desolate pavement. Maybe they hid inside the dark alleys? But he wouldn't ask Arnold to stop the car either; he had to eliminate Charles - a more serious threat to Millennion - first.

The van soon moved past a closed grocery store. A grey-haired woman stood outside the building, looking around with a slight hunch. Mrs. Sara! At this, Brandon told Arnold, "Drive faster!"

Unfortunately, Sara had locked her eyes on Brandon as the van sped away from her. She followed them hastily, bringing about a sigh from him. That frail body couldn't possibly have the stamina to catch up with the vehicle.

However, the van suddenly stopped. Before Brandon could utter a word, Arnold told him, "Traffic light. Didn't manage to drive past it earlier."

And Sara finally caught up with them. With her tearful eyes fixed at Brandon, she knocked on the window.

Brandon had never wanted to open it, but his heart told him not to ignore her. Sara was a mother who might never see her son again. So he pushed the button on the door, allowing the window to slide down.

"Are you looking for Charles, too?" Sara sobbed. Brandon nodded, and she continued, "Please take me with you."

"What for?" Arnold asked coldly, staring at her. "Don't you see Brandon's guns? We're gonna kill Charles. He's killed many Millennion men."

"No! My son is never a murderer!" she cried out, tears streaming down her eyes. "Even if he's a necrolyzer, I believe he can still retain his humanity!"

"Humanity?" Arnold spat. "Brandon is the living proof of your son's brutality."

"I'm now wheelchair-bound," Brandon admitted in a low, rumbling voice. "Charles crippled me with an anti-necrolyze rifle. He stole that weapon from a Millennion agent."

"My son..." Sara buried her face in her hands. "This can't be."

The old lady reminded Brandon of something. Back then, he had attacked Biscoe's agents to protect Harry, the very man who had murdered Mika's parents. However, when Biscoe revealed that to Mika, the girl only screamed back at him, telling the mob boss that Brandon would never do such a heinous deed. If she had never heard the truth from Brandon, maybe she would still believe that he had never helped Harry.

For a moment, Brandon wanted to invite Sara into the car. Maybe she would be happier if she managed to learn the truth about Charles. Heck, maybe Charles would love to see his mom again, too. But which came first? His family or someone else's family?

"Well, gotta leave now," Arnold suddenly said. "Go home, Ma'am. The street ain't safe for ya, especially when it's got some hellhounds and necrolyzers."

As the window slid shut, Brandon whispered, "I'm sorry." And the van moved away from the crying Sara.

Amidst the sad melody from the radio, Brandon heard Arnold say, "You think being a necrolyzer is part of why Charles is so unhinged?"

"I guess so," he replied, paying attention to his sides to anticipate an attack. The absence of cars on the road told him that something wasn't right.

"But you're also a necrolyzer. How can you be much more stable than him?"

"Unlike Charles, I have my family by my side." Brandon smiled, still looking around. "They remind me of many things during my mortal life. I learn to be myself again thanks to those memories."

"You think if Charles meets his mom, he can learn to be himself again?"

"I doubt it. Charles is beyond-" Spotting an incoming green-skinned giant, Brandon grabbed one of his handguns and fired through the window.

Within a split second, the ground shook violently and the surroundings seemed to rise. Brandon moved closer to the window, but soon, everything whirled.

"What the hell!" Arnold screamed.

The van flew straight into a lamp post, knocking Brandon out of his wheelchair and slamming him against the window. Pain and sticky sensation shot up from his old wounds, but his handgun remained in his grip. With his teeth, he picked up his other gun.

When he turned around, he spotted Arnold's motionless body beside a cracked window. His eye widened at the blood trickling out of his driver's nostrils and ears.

Crash!

Heart pounding rapidly, Brandon turned with his gun ready. His bullet struck someone's gigantic green biceps, but it didn't stop the muscular hand. It seized him by his neck, yanked him out of the van, and threw him into the air.

As he plummeted, his trigger finger refused to budge when he saw the attacker. Black hair? This isn't Charles, but then, who's this? However, a green severed leg in the necrolyzer's hands gave him a bad feeling.

Amidst the distraction, the grisly bludgeon struck Brandon in the face and knocked the handgun out of his mouth. Recovering from the shock, he saw the necrolyzer charging at him with that revolting club ready. He instinctively fired his gun and carved a few bloody holes on the ogre's torso.

The new wounds didn't slow him down even a bit. Once Brandon landed on the ground, the necrolyzer leapt with the severed leg raised and a roar.

Holding the gun across his face, Brandon blocked the incoming bludgeon and locked their weapons together. But after a brief struggle, the green-skinned giant pulled away and brought down the severed leg again.

A swing of his handgun deflected the blow, creating an interval. Brandon quickly aimed at the necrolyzer's head. But another swipe came sooner than expected, forcing him to stop it with another swing.

He took aim, only to have his wrist kicked. Gun knocked out of his grasp, he heard the green-skinned giant say, "You think I can't learn from experience?"

Shoot! How could he kill this necrolyzer now? Even with his arm fully stretched, he couldn't reach his weapon.

The club came down again. Brandon swatted it away, but a big green foot struck his chest afterwards. A loud crash and a painful cry echoed as concrete and bones broke altogether.

With a wince, Brandon breathed lightly and rapidly. There had to be a way to retrieve Cerberus and dispatch this monstrosity...

He thought of an idea. Cracking a small smile whilst huffing, he wiggled his finger at the ogre. "Is that all you've got?"

His foe roared in exasperation and jumped into the air, his feet ready to crush him. Just as planned. Brandon's palm smashed into one of the incoming soles, shaking the ogre's equilibrium and knocking him down.

Breathing heavily, Brandon rolled to his stomach and inched towards Cerberus. Something tickled and stung his bandaged limbs as he scraped his body against the rough terrain, but he dismissed the sensation and pressed on. Peeled bandages and reopened wounds could wait.

A forceful blow crashed down on his left leg as he reached out his hand to grab his gun. Still feeling the sheer pressure to his ankle after a few seconds, he drew a conclusion: his foe must've trampled his lower leg, so he must have his knee exposed. Without turning, Brandon held his gun over his shoulder and fired.

When the pressure subsided and a thud resounded, Brandon rolled to his back. The green-skinned giant now sat on the ground, his eyes widening as blood gushed out of the wound on his knee.

The ogre raised his horrid bludgeon, but his hand faltered after a Cerberus round drilled into his wrist. "Y-your aim... Th-this can't be!" the necrolyzer stammered. "Wh-what are y-you?"

Brandon raised his gun slightly and fired. The necrolyzer collapsed with a gaping wound on his forehead.

"A man of Millennion," Brandon finally answered. "You killed Arnold, my family, and I wouldn't let you get away with it." Pain overwhelmed his body afterwards.

As he groaned and gritted his teeth, sticky fluid seeped out of his loose molars. But his injuries could wait; he'd better investigate about the severed leg and Charles.

Something clicked when his mind connected the dreadful bludgeon to Charles' absence. What has this stray necrolyzer done to him?