BP Fight

The Mourning of Felix Aster

Read while listening to Lacrimosa

Chained from the neck down, Felix was dragged to the upper floors, beaten and bruised by the stairs until he reached the top floor, where he was thrown into the brightly lit room, and fell on the carpet. Felix, who was hurt and aching, lifted himself up by his knees, and looked up, only to see that the room decorated with the heads of animals.

"Sir, we've brought him."

"Oh, my. What did I tell you about knocking during bonding time!" The man sat in the desk in the middle of the room replied.

Dressed in a black suit lined with gold, the man stood up and walked towards Felix, "So you're the rat the Golden Lion sent to kill me. I'm impressed. Not only did you get through Prison City to make it here, but you also took down ten of my finest assassins..."

The man lifted up Felix's head by the chin and inspected his face, "Oh my, even with such a battered face, you have such beautiful, glowing eyes. Reminds me of someone else from long ago."

The man threw Felix back down as he approached the grunt that brought in Felix.

"What did I tell you! Never harm the face!" The man pulled him by collar.

"But— but sir! He was—!"

"Shush! I don't care what he was gonna do! How am I supposed to add him to my collection if his face is all bruised and gross and damaged!" The man balled his fist and struck the grunt in the gut.

"I-I'm sorry, s-sir..."

"Henry Dahmer... Weapons dealer to the shaman, and suspected financial supplier of the Jackal's fangs. With counts of drug abuse, prostitution, slavery, and over twenty counts of sexual assault, and twelve counts of murder, which may or may not include the disappearance of three of your political rivals." Felix elaborated as he got back up.

"Oh my, you're well-informed. I was sure I left no trace in what I did. I can't believe the Golden Lion was able to dig up that information. By political rivals, you mean those." Henry grinned as he pointed above his own desk, where jars sat atop a shelf.

There was a churn in Felix's gut as he saw inside those shelves, the severed heads of two men and one woman.

"I've always had this weird fascination with heads you see. They're all... very lovely. It's where knowledge is held, it's where connections are formed, you see. I love people and their lives and their knowledge and their relationships so much, that I must have them for myself. But the body, the bodies are always so inconvenient. They rot and stink and are heavy and you can't bring them wherever you want. That's why I just like the head."

"You're sick."

"So what if I am?" Like a dignified man, Henry placed his palm on his chest. But as he looked back at him, his rage flared up at the sight of his defiant blue eyes.

"What's with that look on your face? Do you not like my room?! I think I designed it very well. Look! Look at my collection, look at it!"

He yelled as he lifted up Felix by the collar, but as Felix looked away, something on the wall quickly caught his eyes. A crimson spear, who's bright red color stood out even in the darkness of the night.

"That spear..." Felix mumbled out.

"Ah, yes. The red spear. Do you like it? It was from an agent who worked in the same organization." Henry's grip loosened, dropping Felix back to the carpet floor, "The look on your face tells me it's from someone you know."