Volume V: The Tragic End of Treason

Chapter 16: Out of Retirement

Lesson #128 - Think before you act!

            Galat’s body slumped onto the table, blood covering its’ surface. I just glared down at him. He killed Hadrien, and I killed him. Sure, Hadrien wasn’t the most friendly bastard in the bunch, but he didn’t deserve to be wiped out by someone as mediocre as Galat. Trust, ha.

            “What the fuck have you done?”

            I wheeled around, smoke still billowing from the silenced barrel of the gun in my hand. Toryn was standing in the doorway, surveying the scene. I couldn’t tell if she was beaten or anything, what condition she was in, how she’d gotten out of the rafters and home safe without getting caught. And I didn’t care.

            “Assisted suicide.”

            “You son of a bitch,” she crossed the room as she sneered at me. “What the hell’s come over you? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You’ve...”

            “Buried us?”

            “What the hell was the point of killing Galat?”

            “He shot Hadrien.”

            “By mistake!”

            “He shot Hadrien.”

            “He didn’t mean to.”

            “He. Shot. Hadrien.”

            “You selective hearing son of a bitch...” She walked away from me, she’d been shaking me to get a rational explainion, which I had none. I just smiled in her general direction as she dropped into the couch across the room. Now, what to do about this mess...

            “Well, well, well, somebody’s been having fun.” The voice spun me around, Cellus stood there, clapping as he came in. He looked around the place, careful to avoid areas newly stained with blood. “You might want to clean up before too much of it dries.” He was sure to close the door behind him, the door that Toryn had carelessly left open.

            “What the fuck are you doing here? In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re slightly busy,” I muttered. He smiled wide, crossing the room and standing toe to toe with me. He reached into his coat somewhere and produced a packet of papers, not much, just a few sheets of scratchy handwriting. He handed this to me. 

            “I believe that this is yours, Timekeeper. You are the keeper of stories, here’s another for your archives.”

            “What is it?”

            “A story, one of a most tragic end. Tear, tear,” Cellus whispered, his smile only widening. I grabbed him by the edges of his coat.

            “Explain.”

            “Explain what, dear boy, you have the proof in front of you, look for yourself.”

            So I let go, took a few steps back, and scanned the pages in front of me. The hand was Dev’s, but not as she usually wrote. It was quick and thoughtless, almost frantic. I held it in one hand, shaking ever so slightly. I moved a step away, turned to put it on the coffee table, and spun around and nailed that laughing bastard full force with a punch from miles away. You could hear the connection with his jaw, he spun away from me and bent over a moment.

            “Fuck! Jesus Christ boy, you’ve got a hell of a hit there.” He was spitting blood, but still smiling. I wanted to wipe the streets with him. I was considering the possibility of doing it, literally. He straightened up to face me.