"Hey Vin," called out Eddie as he browsed through jackets and coats at a stall, "do you think Brandon would prefer a green or navy hoodie?"
"Hmmm…", thought Vincent aloud, "why not get both? We have plenty of credits and it's always good to have spares. Bloodstains are hard to wash out."
"Good idea," replied Eddie as he bought both of the hoodies. The vendor, an elderly lady with a kind smile, thanked him for his business.
"Hey!" yelled out Diana as she rolled over in her wheelchair, followed closely by a tray-bearing Nathaniel. "We got some sandwiches and every kind of juice they had. Also I made Brandon a card, could you guys all sign it please?" asked the girl. On Nathaniel's tray laid a helping of sandwiches and various packaged juices.
"Of course," said Eddie, signing the card and gesturing to Vin to do the same. The old man complied, writing his name underneath Nathaniel's and beside Eddie's.
The group started to walk towards Heathrow Airport's Hospital, Nathaniel giving Eddie the tray along with the card so he could push Diana. The young girl spoke, "It's not too cheesy is it? The, uh, get well soon card I mean?"
"Not at all, Diana." reassured Eddie, "Brandon is part of our team and most importantly he is our friend. And friends do nice things for each other even if it is cheesy."
"Especially if it is cheesy in your case." added Vincent with a small sly smirk.
Eddie rolled his eyes dramatically and said "Shut up, old man".
Nathaniel, Diana and Vincent laughed as the group strode down the hospital's corridors to Brandon's room. However when Eddie went to open the door he was stopped by a nurse standing out the front. The door's window was covered by a blind on the inside of the room. Eddie could see the deadbolt through the thin gap between the door and its frame. Locked.
"I'm extremely sorry Sir, but your friend Brandon Mathers has unfortunately passed away. His condition considerably worsened and without working medical monitoring devices he passed away before anyone realised. His room is quarantined as he will sadly become one of the Undead within the next 24 hours. Security are on their way to dispose of his remains safely and respectfully." explained the Nurse, giving a feeble smile and a weary look of reassurance.
Eddie's tray clattered to the floor, the collision echoing through the hallways with an echoing clang. A bottle of orange juice lost its lid, leaking onto the cold hard floor. Eddie slowly looked up at the nurse, neck muscles bound and tensed. "Let me see him." he uttered, his eyes boring into the nurse's own.
"I, uhh, sorry Sir I can't do tha-" began the nurse before being cut off by the old man.
"Let. Me. See. Him." growled Eddie, coils of liquid shadow curling around his sleeves across his fingertips.
"No. I will not let you see him. This is a hospital. It is too big of a safety risk an-" tried the nurse before being shoved aside forcefully by Eddie. With a flick of his wrist the old man summoned his Colt Peacemaker revolver into his hand. In one fluid action, he shot the lock off the door and kicked it open with a thunderous bang. Light spilled into the room and everyone froze at the sight they saw.
Brandon lay sprawled on his hospital bed, one arm hanging down low and fingers centimetres from grazing the floor. Blood trickled down his arm, pooling below his fingertips. The man's torso had been hacked open, peeled back to reveal his few remaining still-warm organs. Lungs, heart and stomach were removed - leaving the dead man's chest eerily hollow. His eyes blindly stared back at Eddie, mouth agape as though he was whispering for help. Three men stood over the body; one in a surgical gown holding a bloodied handsaw, one with neuroprosthetic limbs and one in a dark business suit. Eddie instantly recognised the man in the suit. His name was Theodore Sharpe.
Theodore Sharpe was holding a reddish brown wedge shaped object that dripped blood, staining the sleeves of his shirt. The object suddenly vanished, sold using Sharpe's ability. Theodore Sharpe had been holding Brandon's liver.
Theodore Sharpe had just sold Brandon's liver.
Theodore Sharpe had killed Brandon.
"Oh fu-" screamed Sharpe as Eddie unloaded his revolver at the man. All of the shots hit their marks, instantly peppering the man and spouting red.
Eddie roared, his eyes flaring red as he summoned a second Colt Peacemaker. Liquid shadows swirled around him; an aura of death. Almost immediately, Romeo smashed the back window and unsheathed his rifle. Sharpe scrambled towards the broken window, leaving a trail of blood, while Romeo yelled for security. Coils of shadows shuddered as the enraged old man summoned ammunition directly into his revolvers. The businessman tumbled out of the window, falling a full two stories before landing on the ground with a sickening crunch. He screamed, writhing as nearby guards rushed to his aide.
Romeo's limbs began to vibrate rhythmically and rapidly as he unloaded his clip at Eddie. However the bullets never connected. Instead they were absorbed by the inky blackness of the old man's shadows. Sneering, Eddie began slamming the triggers of his revolver's repeatedly. The barrels glowed red from heat as he summoned ammo and immediately fired it. Bullets veered sporadically, ripping the surgeon's chest and skull apart in seconds. Out of ammunition, Eddie lunged forwards and ripped the rifle from Romeo's hands - throwing the man across the room. Romeo collided with the reinforced concrete wall, cracks forming from the impact. Blood dripped from a cut on his forehead as he raised one shaking neuroprosthetic arm and whispered one word; "Blast".
The air split in two from a thunderous boom. Eddie was thrown backwards with tremendous force. He twisted midair, landing with his feet against the wall and pushing off. Landing in a standing position, he threw a revolver directly at Romeo's forehead. The handle of the firearm smacked Romeo's forehead, extinguishing the light in his eyes, before rebounding back into Eddie's hand. "Stay down", he commanded. Not missing a beat, Eddie rushed forward and dived out of the window. He fell two stories and rolled into a tactical half-squat. Dozens of heavily armed guards surrounded Eddie. Grunting, Eddie summoned his yari from the shadows. He drove the blade deep into a guard's neck, exploding it into blood and viscera. The guards opened fire, rifle rounds and shotgun blasts pelting the old man. Twisting and weaving like a snake, Eddie avoided most of the gunfire. The rest he absorbed with his cloak of shadows. Sharpe limped away, half-carried by one of his guards. Eddie roared, spinning in a wide arc and slashing the blade of his yari across half a dozen guard's throats. Blood almost exploded from their necks as they crumpled into the ground. Sharpe's eyes widened with fear.
The air around Sharpe began to shimmer, financial symbols appearing before a sudden snap. An ArmSys XGS Hellhound battle tank materialised where Sharpe had been standing only seconds ago. Manufactured by ArmSys Limited exclusively for the United States armed forces, no XGS Hellhound had never been destroyed in direct combat and retailed for just shy of a hundred million US dollars. Slowly, the turret's barrel turned to aim at Eddie.
Vincent leaped out of the hospital window, landing on his feet with a heavy thud. Half the guards immediately took aim at him. Charging through the guards and knocking them over, Vincent arrived at Eddie's side.
"One of those Hellhounds?" asked Vincent.
The tank fired. A tremendous boom shattered the air as thousands of rounds exploded from the turret's barrel. Using dead guards as shields, Eddie and Vincent narrowly avoided getting turned into minced meat.
"Yea," replied Eddie, eyes still burning red and still fuming with rage.
"Let's make history," answered Vincent.
Before the Hellhound could take another shot, Vincent rushed forward and grabbed the barrel of the turret. Using the momentum, the old man ran along the barrel. A small machine gun turret emerged from the top of the Hellhound. Vincent crushed it with one foot before reaching the base of the barrel. Gripping the barrel with both hands and bending his legs, he pulled upwards. The barrel groaned and Vincent smiled as he heard an internal snap. Meanwhile Eddie summoned a series of knives from his pocket dimension and launched them like missiles at the remaining guards. They dropped, one by one dead on the cold wintry tarmac.
Vincent balled up his fists and struck the access hatch of the Hellhound. The hull shuddered with the impact. He raised his fists again and again, driving them faster and further into the hatch. The metal groaned and sparks flew as the skin of Vincent's knuckles was ripped off. After one final devastating blow, the access hatch caved inwards into the tank revealing a cowering Sharpe. Using one hand, Vincent grabbed Sharpe by the collarbone and threw him onto the freezing asphalt. Sharpe screamed as something snapped within him.
Writhing in pain, Theodore Sharpe looked up at Eddie and Vincent.
"Mercy, please" he begged.