Twisted Death

3. Sacrifice

"Nancy and Nina told me they wanted to find their dad, so they asked Mr. Nick to take them out. The basement guards didn't let me join them, so I called you. Brandon, please find and protect them."

Their dad. That alone made Brandon suspect that Bernard had become a necrolyzer. But how did those kids know that their dad was still out there? Did they dream or hallucinate about their deceased father?

Besides, who would've thought of necrolyzing this poor doctor? Maybe William, but he didn't have much money. He couldn't possibly sustain Bernard's body, and if he loved his brother, he definitely wouldn't let Bernard suffer the fate of an impoverished necrolyzer - dying a slow, painful death.

Brandon's van sped along the lonely road. Buildings with peeling wall paint and broken windows surrounded the path. He'd chosen to explore West District because from his experience, shady experiments often took place there due to its status as a "ghost region" in Billion.

"But that doesn't mean that necrolyzation projects always take place here," Albert noted, steering the wheel. "Still remember what Boss told you after Dr. Bernard's death? Millennion agents couldn't find anything suspicious in Billion."

But Brandon thought it wouldn't hurt to survey the area. However, an hour of scanning the whole district earned him nothing.

"Let's go back," Albert suggested. "Nick probably isn't that stupid to take the kids out...unless they're too noisy. Our buddy can't really stand crying kids."

"If Nick hadn't brought the kids out," Brandon growled, "Mika wouldn't have called me."

Albert replied with nothing but silence.

On the way back, he kept staring through the window. Only multistory buildings with peeled wall paint - either caused by some stray necrolyzed beings or just the weather - came across his sight.

Minutes later, when he looked through a passageway between the two houses beside him, he spotted a speeding black van on the other side.

Nick drives a silver hatchback everywhere... Something isn't right.

"Albert," Brandon began, "find the nearest junction and turn left. After that, stop the car and find a safe place. I'll proceed by myself."

"Why?"

"There's a suspicious van."

"Suspicious?" Albert chuckled. "That may just be some ignorant civilians passing by, but whatever you say, Sir."

When Brandon reached another junction by foot, his ears registered a loud crash. Gun drawn, he stopped at the intersection and looked to his left.

Brandon knew he could always trust his gut. That van belonged to nobody but three hellhounds and two necrolyzers - why they were some overgrown men like him instead of green-skinned giants, nobody knew. Now, with the vehicle parked across them, they surrounded a flipped silver hatchback and a fallen street lamp. Much like a pack of wolves preparing themselves to savor their kill.

Those kids! Heart pounding wildly, he ran towards the commotion and fired his gun.

The gunshot drew the hellhounds' attention. The beasts whirled and charged at him, drool dripping down their mouths and fangs. Brandon fired again and killed one of them with a bullet to the head.

A girl's scream exploded across the street. Looking ahead, Brandon saw a ripped car door in a necrolyzer's hand.

Chomp!

The hellhounds clamped their jaws on his sound leg. Blood trickled down his calf and seeped into his pants. What the hell?

He pulled away his leg and tore himself free from the dogs. Crimson fluid gushed out of his wounds and formed tiny puddles on the ground - a small price he had to pay for that girl's life.