PARKER | Dark H.S. AU

lxvii. shut up

"We found your name next to your mobile number tattooed by his waist."

Parker enters the interrogation room donning a slick gray suit and a thoughtful frown. His taut muscles shudder upon witnessing the unconscious man laid out on the long rectangular table like a machinery for examination.

He advances closer to the body and backs up once a groan slips past the nameless man's lips and stirs in his incognisant state. There are bunch of other tattoos that weave his exposed upper body, bare from the security of a t-shirt. Most of which Parker could not read, but recognised his name and number where the officer said they would be.

His eyes fleet to the man's face, focusing on it as he scours his memory to recall where and how he encountered this man. He reaches up to the goriest scenario that has happened in the past -- the sick satisfaction of torture and violence, the murders he committed --, but he still doesn't remember where this man fits. One thing is for certain though; this man wants him killed.

"We contacted every person that were tattooed on him as well. His assistant confirmed that he has an anterograde amnesia --"

"I know what that is." Parker politely interjects, glancing to the officer and back to the man's face lying on the table.

"We reckon he scribbles important information permanently on his skin so he would be reminded by it every fifteen minutes." The police officer tells him, a confident demeanour on his entire stance. His chest out and both thumbs coiled at the belt loops on each side of his waist.

Fifteen minutes. The words echo on Parker's ears. This man forgets things every fifteen minutes.

"Do you recognise him, Mr. Parker?" The officer asks him, folding his arms below his chest as he waits for Parker's answer.

Parker glances back at the table then gazes at the officer, nodding with feign concern on his face. "Yes," he says. "He's my friend. I've done business with him before the accident."

The officer frowns and approaches close to the table where the body rests from the sedative that was injected to him. "What accident, Mr. Parker?" The officer runs his hand on the unconscious man's forehead, pushing back the thick mop of curls out of his face. "He was attacked inside his apartment three years ago. Someone hit his head with an iron bar and killed his wife."

A boom explodes inside Parker's head. He looks from side to side, the world seems to collapse right before his eyes. The flashes of images return to him of that particular night -- the blood, the cries, the eery silence that followed, and the evil laughter that escaped freely from his throat.

Parker nods at the officer in affirmation, though he corrects him, "Fiancé. It was his fiancé. They never got the chance to get married."

"Yes. I'm sorry." The police officer casts a remorseful stare at the man below him. It was a tragic night. He doesn't know which is more painful; losing memory or losing the one you love. But this young man lost both. "Whoever did this to them is a vile man...a monster. If he is still walking on the face of the earth, I hope he reaches its end and fall off a cliff. Or at least someone would push him off it."

That is a very unlikely statement coming from a police officer. Normally, they'd want someone caught and get them into their custody. But it's as if he knows there's no chance for the perpetrator to get into submission. Anyway, Parker brushes it off and nods at the police, yet again, agreeing with him.

"I hope so, too. I hope so." He mutters.

-----

Liam and Harry's assistant, Betty, rush to the headquarters as soon as they received the call about Harry's escapade in the women's dormitory the night before. They're immediately escorted to the room where Harry is soundlessly asleep from sedation. A whimper leaves Betty's lips upon seeing the shattered appearance of his once collected boss. Liam fumes in rage, cursing at the police officers for such treatment toward his cousin. They treated him like an animal, he yells at the men in authoritative uniforms.

"We are sorry, sir. But desperate measures were called. He could not be contained last night. He terrorised those girls. If we did not intervene, worse could have happened than this." The police officer who introduced himself as Inspector Jeffers says.

He likes to coil his thumbs around the loops of his belt absentmindedly, Liam observes. Once in a while, he'd cast a look...a look of concern down his cousin's face. Almost as if he knows his story and is rueful for it.

"We also found a gun on his bag. We had to put him into custody to make sure he is --" A different officer speaks but is interrupted when Betty presents a folded paper from her purse.

"The gun is licensed. It's for his protection. He had it ever since he woke up from coma. We believe his life is in constant threat since the attack." Betty explains and the officer nods as if he already know.

"We understand, ma'am. He's already been cleared. That's why we called you down here so that you can bring him home. He's free to go."

Liam chuckles skeptically. "Yes, of course. After you did this to my cousin, you'd hand him to us like a piece of leftover." He chuckles again and huffs. "Free to go. He could not even walk by himself for fuck's sake."

There are about three officers in the room, all of whom heard what Liam said but they stay silent.

-----

"His name's Harry Edward Styles." Parker starts, addressing his goons standing ominously before him while he sits on his throne in the dark living room. "I remember him, but he could not remember me." He starts laughing wickedly and almost as if death will follow if they don't do so, his goons laugh along with him though they don't know what for. "He has an amnesia. Fifteen minutes. His mind turns blank every fifteen minutes." He laughs again and eventually quiets down to a wistful sigh, like he's reminiscing a beautiful past. "And that's because of my making. I hit his head with an iron bar. And that blonde. That poor, poor blonde." He shakes his head, a few 'tsk' sound resounding from him as he does so.

The goons could not understand his blabbering but none question him. They just wait for his order -- that much is enough for them to comprehend. They just have to do what their master asks them to do.

"Tonight." Parker speaks again, a determined look on his face. The men wearing black ensembles surrounding him ready their selves for they know what that look on their master's face means. "Tonight we pay him another visit."

A goon cocks his gun for an effect in an attempt to impress his boss.

"Down your gun, bastard. Tonight, we don't kill. We're doing much worse. We'll erase his memory...permanently."

*****

Damn you, Parker!