Chapter 21: Aftermath
"Eh, don't worry about what Boss has in his mind right now." Albert grinned. "Let's talk about your necrolyzer-superior hybrid form."
"Mr. Albert made me a quick sketch of that form." Douglas flipped through the pages of his notepad. "You looked..." He hid his mouth behind his forearm to hold back a laugh. "Yeah, you looked different."
"You're wondering how I know your appearance although I never interfered with your fight?" Albert asked. "I stood at a safe distance with binoculars. You know, I didn't want Zach to use me against you, but I just wanted to enjoy the show."
Brandon smirked. Albert and Douglas always tried hard to cheer him up, just like Mika. However, their actions lacked the unique charm Mika had. Perhaps it was because of the difference in their closeness: Mika was his beloved child, while Albert and Douglas were just his friends.
Somehow, the breeze from the trailer's air conditioners became warmer with these two humans joking around. Even Brandon had nearly forgotten about the discomfort coming from the crimson IV line connected to his bandaged hand.
A few seconds later, Douglas showed his notepad to Brandon. "Here it is."
The picture missed some details such as his huge muscles and bulging veins, but he spotted an oddity in his hair; it stood on one end like a bonfire. Face contorting in amusement, he scratched his cheek with a finger.
Douglas pulled back the notepad and pointed at Albert, who immediately exclaimed, "That's really you, Sir! Trust my eyes and binoculars!"
"Sure, but I just look funny with this hairstyle." Brandon grinned. "Like someone out of comic books."
"It doesn't make you less cool. You know what? You toasted Zach!"
Silence enveloped the trailer as Brandon's happy face melted into a frown and prompted others to do the same. He remembered the outrageous selfishness that overwhelmed him as a necrolyzer-superior hybrid, an insult against William's sacrifice. If Zach hadn't stopped to mock him, or if that desperate punch hadn't knocked Zach away, Brandon would've died.
"Did I remind you of something?" Albert suddenly asked.
You did. Brandon closed his eye and took a deep breath. After exhaling, he opened his eye and looked at Douglas. "Doc, could you explain," he muttered, wincing at the pain from the memory of his appalling behavior, "the weird pleasant feeling I got as I tortured Zach?"
"Yes, but may I know why you asked this?"
"I want to learn how to stop it, so that I can handle the hybrid form better in the future."
Douglas nodded. "Well, everyone has something called brain reward system-"
"Please spare us the details, Doc," Albert quipped. "I remember sleeping through brain stuff lesson at school."
Brandon nodded in agreement; if a refined man like Albert couldn't even understand, how about him, a brutish necrolyzer who would even fall asleep while reading an elementary science book?
"I know," Douglas replied calmly. "Well, there is also the hormone called dopamine-"
"I said spare us the details!"
"I'm not even done speaking, Sir." Douglas chuckled. "We'll just call dopamine 'pleasure hormone.' It's pretty simple, right?"
Albert and Brandon nodded.
"Brain reward system is why various addictions exist. When given the right stimulus, the system will produce the pleasure hormone. In a superior's case, violence provokes it."
"Addicted to violence." Albert sniggered. "Well, I presume getting over it is like overcoming drug addiction?"
"It'll be hard. The hybrid inherits the superior's unstable nature and amplifies it." He paused. "Also, we have yet to know if necrolyzers can voluntarily transform into the hybrid form. For now, it's safe to assume that they can't, so they'll always be in a fight when they do."
Brandon rubbed his forehead, inviting the last moments of the battle into his brain. Fear, he recalled. It filled his mind right when his aura dimmed and his muscles shrank, waking up his instinct to survive.
He couldn't possibly wait until that happened in every single fight.
"Then how can I stop it?" he wondered out loud.
"The most important in overcoming an addiction is," Douglas replied, pointing at Brandon, "yourself. In your case, think about how your addiction will affect Miss Mika and everybody else. Swear to yourself that you'll stop it for their sake."
"Won't that be tough, Doc? With all the amplification and instability..." Albert commented.
"Indeed. But at least Mr. Brandon now knows the basics and can try using that mindset."
"I do wonder if it's possible to snap him out of it by making him remember happy stuff with Miss Mika or someone else."
"Sounds plausible."
Chin resting on his bandaged hand, Brandon nodded with a smile. Now, if only he could transform-
A light smack to his forearm cut him off. Then Albert said, "The transfusion is still going on."
"Yes, at least try it after the transfusion," Douglas added. "Though whatever you do, you can't possibly transform for now. Boss didn't order me to give you any refined serum."
Brandon snorted in annoyance at the reminder. Biscoe had his reasons to not give him any of that glimmering golden liquid: it cost too much, Brandon sustained no real injury, and nobody knew how harmful that hybrid form could be to Brandon himself or everybody else.
However, Brandon also had his reasons why he deserved that serum: it would let him learn to control that form better. Heck, he might even learn how to transform voluntarily. What organization wouldn't want a nigh-invincible warrior to fight for them?
He'd better speak to Biscoe after this.
"So," Brandon began, pointing at the almost empty bag of blood on the IV stand, "how long will this take?"
"Around five minutes, Sir," Douglas answered. "Anyway, no need to ask Boss for refined serum. He already made it clear that he wouldn't give any."
Yes, yes, I know, but there's nothing wrong with trying.
Albert noticed the peeved look on Brandon's face and shrugged. "What a bullhead."
Five minutes passed in silence. With nobody speaking, the air conditioners began spewing chilly gusts of wind. A drop in the trailer temperature always motivated Brandon to do some exercises, but right now, unable to move due to Douglas removing his transfusion set, the coldness just made him yawn.
Sleeping? Brandon grunted and gritted his teeth. He didn't want any shut-eye before paying Biscoe a visit.
Now free from the IV line, Brandon scanned his surroundings for his prosthetic leg. He spotted it standing and leaning against the trailer's desk, a position he couldn't reach with just his hand. "Bring my prosthesis here," he demanded.
"Heading to Boss' office after this?" Albert stood still, prompting Brandon to glare daggers at him. "You can just call him anyway."
"I believe it's easier to change his mind by talking face-to-face."
Albert shrugged and sighed. "Okay."
With Albert's and Douglas' help, it took just a few moments for Brandon to don his artificial leg. Then he got off his bed and headed to the trailer's exit. Door opened, he bade his friends a goodbye with a mere wave of his hand.
Outside, he paused momentarily at small number of cars across the parking basement. The wind, despite coming from just the big ceiling fan at the elevator area, felt colder - almost comparable to the refreshing breeze outside the building at night. For how many hours had he been resting in the trailer?
No, forget about it. The last time he took a peek at the trailer's clock, it was already 5:45, while Biscoe usually went home at 6PM. He rushed towards the elevator, paying no attention to the guards' greetings.
Ding!
Lucky me.
The shiny metallic doors slid open. Brandon and a guardsman stepped into the little chamber, and the guard immediately pressed the "L" button on the wall. Brandon gave the human an "okay" hand sign.
"You wanna fetch some newspaper at the lobby? I heard you haven't done it recently."
Brandon shook his head. "I have something else to do."
"Mhm."
"I do plan to grab some on my way back."
The elevator stopped and dinged. Then the doors opened, revealing another set of elevators that stood across his current position. A Millennion man had to use one of them to reach Biscoe's office.
Stepping out and crossing to the other set of elevators, he glanced at his right. A few guardsmen and cleaning service staffers roamed the lobby, their reflections visible on the massive marble pillars. The sparkling tiles, made from the same material as the pillars, also mirrored their walking figures. Biscoe really knew how to make Millennion HQ look as grand as its status in the town.
Upon seeing his own appearance at the makeshift mirrors, Brandon averted his gaze from them and pushed the "Up" button on the wall between the lifts. An undead man in a plain white t-shirt and an equally dull pair of shorts would only taint the elegance of the lobby. His long, unkempt hair wouldn't help either.
But I just have to suck it up to get some newspaper later.
After about a minute of waiting, he heard a sharp ting. The elevator doors slid open, and he entered it. It took just a few seconds to reach the twenty-fifth floor, his destination.
This level, unlike others, had very few agents - those handpicked by Biscoe for having blood ties to either his or Norton's family - patrolling it. However, security cameras lay scattered across the ceiling; if you had the guts to commit a crime here, the surveillance room would get a picture of your appearance in all direction. They had invisible ears, too.
Brandon flashed a smile at the guardsmen as he walked along the hallway, his eye searching for a timber door with a plaque that had "Millennion's Chairman and Assistant" carved on it. He found his target about a minute later.
As he placed his thumb on the fingerprint scanner on the wall and waited for a beep of confirmation, he recalled what had caused Biscoe to start this security system. "I don't like having insignificant underlings in my office," the mob boss told him a while back. "You can't really trust anybody in the Mafia."
Brandon could easily list who could easily enter this room other than him: Biscoe, Norton, those elite guards, Mika, and - he winced at the name - William. Sometimes, Brandon couldn't help but compare the access to this office to a precious trophy because it just showed how much the vigilant boss trusted these special people.
A click followed the beep. After knocking on the door three times - a gesture to show some respect to the boss - Brandon pushed it open and went into the room.
"Cremate the body and throw the ashes into the sea by the old docks," Biscoe spoke to the phone as he sat at his large mahogany desk. "Let the boy reunite with his dad."
Brandon's jaw dropped. The old docks. The boy and his dad. Zach's son. Tears welled in Brandon's eye as he closed the door and slowly approached Biscoe. What had the old mob boss done? He also sounded so plain, as though the boy didn't really matter to him...
Did he kill the poor soul? Brandon gulped at the thought.
"I believe you figured it out," Biscoe suddenly said. "Yes, Zach's son finally passed."
The mob boss' casual tone had a tinge of sadness in it, but the tremendous apathy quickly set Brandon off. "You bastard!" He stormed towards Biscoe, seized him by his collar and lifted him up. "You killed a sick baby, didn't you?"
"We did it for his sake, Brandon," Biscoe reasoned. "This boy isn't recovering anytime soon and has nowhere to go, so we removed his life support."
Brandon shook Biscoe. Hard. "You should've contacted Zach's relatives!"
"They couldn't afford to take care of him."
"Even if they couldn't, why couldn't you at least order your scientists to try finding a cure for the sickness?"
"Who are you to judge me?" Biscoe's voice rose. "You shot a child!"
Brandon's grip loosened. At the end of the day, I'm just the pot calling the kettle black. Vision blurred by the overflowing tears, he murmured, "I understand." His chest burned with every word he uttered.
"Although Zach had caused us a lot of problems, I respect him." Biscoe placed a hand on Brandon's shoulder, his eyes glassy. "At the very end, he's much like you: a father who is willing to go to great lengths for his child. I discovered it when I called him to talk about his kidnapped son." He took a deep breath. "It was unusual for a careful man like him to not ask a lot about the ransom, but I guess...he just couldn't think straight after getting the news."
Biscoe's words only started another fire in Brandon's chest instead of putting off the existing one. He had become the monster he hated; that frigging Rafael, his childhood killer, would be proud of him. Although he used to be a hitman who murdered a lot of parents and ruined children's lives, this time, the kill hit him harder since he now had a kid to take care of.
"You did the right thing, Brandon," Biscoe said softly. "If you let Zach go, there's no telling what he'd do next. Sure, he was restrained by his child, but what if his delusional life goal proved to be impossible?"
Brandon wiped away his tears. "Delusional life goal?"
"Perfecting necrolyzation so that it's capable of bringing the dead back as a human. I believe he already knew that there was no hope for his little boy."
Silence shrouded the office as the chilling wind from the air conditioners slowly extinguished the fire within Brandon's chest. Then he turned to leave.
"Wait, Brandon," Biscoe called. "I'm sure that you came here not to talk about Zach and his son."
"Forget about it." It wasn't like he could convince Biscoe to give him some refined serum now.
Brandon retraced his steps to his trailer, not caring about the newspaper or the curious guardsmen. Not even Albert and Douglas, who tailed him all the way to his home, earned his attention.
They eventually left, much to his relief.
After closing the door, Brandon sat on his armchair, pushed the buttons on the remote control beside him, and turned the seat into a bed. Mika... He lay on his side and curled himself up into a fetal position. Where was his child when he needed her?
Brandon closed his eye, hoping to sleep the night away soon. At least, nobody had brought up about Will- No, he should stop bringing up that name himself if he wished for a good slumber tonight. He had to save his strength for tomorrow, although he was sure that Wong's punishment wouldn't hurt this much.