Unbreakable Promise

Chapter 21

Beck enters the corridor, his expression that of determination, his gun drawn at his side. He aims and fires. His target falls to the ground. He pulls the man from the room, securing the chains on him tightly. The man begins to regain consciousness, his eyes fluttering open and closed. 

"Rise and shine, biscuit," Beck calls. He laughs as if he just made the funniest joke in the world. "Why am I here?" the man grumbles. "Yes, that is the existential crisis, isn't it?" Beck remarks thoughtfully, twirling his father's knife across his knuckles. "Psycho," the man mutters, pulling at his restraints. "Why are you here?" the man questions, lifting a curious eyebrow. "I was born into the wretched existence called human life," Beck replies, shrugging. "That sounds cynical and lonely."

Beck shrugs again. "Curiously enough, I think some people are meant to be alone. I'm alone because I'm an unlovable emotional wreck and nobody wants me. He's alone because he's a coward and convinced nobody wants him." The man raises both eyebrows. "Sounds to me like you have something in common, then," he remarks. 

"Answer me this," Beck says, "what did you steal?" The man huffs at the boy's question. "That's what you chained me up for?" he asks. 

"You stole from me."

"You shot me."

"I deserve compensation."

"Consider my spilled blood your compensation."

"Nope."

The man frowns at Beck. "You're a horrible person."

"I know," Beck says, "it keeps me awake at night." 

"Plus, you've been following me since Denver and I want to know why," Beck says, going back to twirling the knife. His phone rings, interrupting the interrogative moment. Beck answers it, leisurely sitting on the dirty concrete. "Yeah?" he says. 

"You're late," Riona scolds him. 

Beck checks his watch. Ah.. so he is. "I'm sorry," Beck says into the phone. "I got caught up with something. I'll let you know when I'm on my way." With that, he ends the call. "So... I've got places to be, people to see, how about you tell me what I want to know so I can release you?" 

The man looks at him cautiously. "Why would you release me?" Beck rolls his eyes. "Well, it's not like I'm a cold-blooded killer or anything." The man snorts at that. "No... just a psychopathic teenager playing with a knife." Beck smiles. "Exactly."

Beck arrives at the reception an hour after it began. He almost can't believe it's been two years since he's seen his sister or his sister's fiance, War. Two years since he separated from Mad. Beck shakes his head, pausing at the entryway. He lets out a breath and enters the building. Riona spots him from her seat at the head of the table, next to her fiance (of course). She runs and locks him inside a tight embrace. He hugs her back, enjoying the feeling of having someone he loves inside his arms again. Beck hasn't been with anyone since he left ShadowEx manner. Since he left Mad. It was almost meaningless to try and love anybody else when he knew that he couldn't. Frankly, he found the thought of relationships exhausting now. At least, he did, until his eyes fell on the person sitting beside Riona's fiance. Mad sits to the right of War. He keeps his eyes set on the table in front of him, the expression on his face all too familiar to Beck; carefully resigned neutrality. 

His face is a lie, Beck thinks. He takes his seat beside Riona, across from the aforementioned older boy. War clears his throat, smiling sympathetically at his future wife. "So.. ehem.. Riona mentioned something about doing operations," War casually says, glancing at the two boys. "Something about Denver?" 

Beck takes a sip of his champagne and clears his throat before responding. "Denver was about a year ago. There was an organization that had a nasty habit of selling kids. I only persuaded them into taking ownership of their habits." War lifts an eyebrow, his eyes looking at Mad before moving back to the boy. "Although there was this stupid fucker who's been following me since then," Beck continues, shrugging. War glances at him, somewhat unsurprised. "And who was that?" he asks. Beck shrugs again. "Don't know. I killed him before I had the chance to find out," he replies, downing the last of his champagne and pouring another glass. "Champagne?" he says, offering the bottle to his sister. She gives him a scolding stare. He only shrugs in response. 

"Ah, ah," Beck says, waving his hand in the air. "I don't know who he is, but I have a pretty good guess. I released him about an hour before I got here," he clarifies, offering his sister a perfectly white smile. "Interesting fellow, that one," Beck says, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. The boy vaguely registers the smirk resting on Mad's face. He takes another sip of champagne, twirling the butter knife over his knuckles. In, out, in, out... a steady pattern. "At last, my dear sister, I am in your loving company again," Beck murmurs, clinking his flute against hers. "Haven't you drank enough?" Riona whispers to him as he pours his third glass. Beck meets her stare, eyes unreadable. Mad finally raises his eyes from his plate, taking notice of the tension between the two siblings. 

"Ah, ah," Beck says, setting the flute down and picking up his water glass. "Fine, fine." Riona watches him, the same unreadable expression on her face. War glances between the two siblings, sighing when he realizes what this is about. "Ria, leave the kid alone, babe," War says, taking her hand in his. He squeezes and she squeezes back. Beck's eyes get caught on the gesture for a second too long, his heart beginning to hurt in the same way he's much too familiar with. He vaguely recalls what the man said to him today. 

"Curiously enough, I think some people are meant to be alone. I'm alone because I'm an unlovable emotional wreck and nobody wants me. He's alone because he's a coward and convinced nobody wants him." The man raises both eyebrows. "Sounds to me like you have something in common, then," he remarks. 

Beck swallows, his hand clenched around the champagne flute. He shakes his head, taking a large swig of water but not removing his hand from the other glass. Maybe they do have loneliness in common, Beck thinks. But everyone has different ways of dealing with it.