"Ya murderous bastard!"
George's roar shook the room. His large frame surged forward with startling speed as he barreled past Henry and Damon, all reason abandoned. He lunged straight at Vincent, fists raised, ready to smash the blank expression off his face.
But Damon moved first.
"Shit…" Fighting the wave of nausea rolling in his gut, he vaulted onto George's broad back. His right arm snapped around the clown's throat, the other wrenching George's left arm backward. Simultaneously Damon drove his heel sharply into the back of George's knee.
Crash!!
George hit the floorboards hard, the breath exploding from his lungs as Damon pinned him down with cold, practiced force. "Get off me!" George bellowed, thrashing against the hold.
'Like hell I will, if I let you go you might just end up dying next.' Damon gritted his teeth, tightening his grip. He then shifted, pressing his forearm into George's upper back first, then lower, forcing the man to the ground with a controlled, merciless weight.
Henry stood frozen in the doorway. His eyes flicked between Vincent and the severed head on the floor, his mind scrambling, failing to bridge the pieces together. 'It doesn't make sense. Why would Vincent do this…? What happened while we were gone?
Henry knew that as a Specter Vincent might have already killed a few people, but the image he'd built of Vincent didn't align with this moment. The Vincent he knew was charismatic, playful and kind.
Someone who helped others without hesitation.
But as Henry stared at Vincent's white shirt stained dark red, reality sank its claws into him.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
This was real.
Vincent remained eerily still until the struggle behind him finally broke through his detached haze. He tilted his head and looked down at George with an expression, so empty Henry felt a cold tremor crawl up his spine. Vincent wasn't looking at George, he was looking through him.
Then suddenly his lips parted, and his voice cut through the noise with a neutral tone "Hold him still Damon"
"Huh?" Damon looked up, startled, just as Vincent walked toward them with casual, almost weary steps. He knelt in front of the struggling clown, the tip of his blade resting lightly against the floor.
"I'm sorry, George, I truly am," Vincent said, his empty eyes portraying no regret. "When I came looking for you earlier… I didn't think things would end this way…"
"Then Why... Why'd ya do It…!??" George pleaded, his voice choked with grief. "Marco? He was your friend. I brought you here because he trusted You...!!!"
'He doesn't deserve this...', Damon swallowed hard in thought.'My body reacted on instinct but am I really making the right choice.?'Although He knew Marco's condition was far worse than they initially realized, doubts gnawed at him.
'Did Marco ask him to or did Vincent himself make that judgment…?' As Damon questioned his own actions, he noticed Vincent wordlessly nod towards him before shifting his gaze to Henry.
"Harley is upstairs." He muttered, " Could you bring her down please."
Hearing Harley's name, George struggled with renewed fury. "Don't you touch her!"
His voice cracked as he twisted violently, and a sharp crack sounded from the arm Damon gripped. He cried out in pain, but he couldn't break free.
With his brows creased in annoyance, Damon turned his focus back to George.'If he keeps struggling his arm will be permanently ruined, and I can't apply anymore pressure without it snapping off.' Surely George knew that his efforts were futile, how could a normal human compare to the strength of a Specter.
"Do you plan to kill George and Harley as well?" Henry asked, managing to keep his voice steady as his fist clenched. He smiled nervously after hearing Vincent's words but despite the tremors that ran through his hands, he didn't seek to draw his daggers against his brother.
"No," Vincent answered immediately. Silence followed, a heavy, suffocating quiet broken only by George's ragged breathing. When he spoke again, his tone was lower, laced with a trace sadness. "But… What I'm about to do might be much worse."
Henry watched his brother quietly for a moment, reading his intent. This wasn't the brother he knew… and yet the sorrow beneath Vincent's tone whispered the truth:
It was still his brother!
'I'm pathetic,' Henry thought with a bitter smile.' How could I doubt Vincent.'
After taking a deep breath, Henry turned and left the room without another word, pulling the door shut behind him.
"Thank you, Damon," Vincent said quietly. He shifted his free hand, placing his palm firmly on top of George's head.
George flinched. "What are you doing? Get away from me!" he shouted, panic edging his pain.
"Echoes fade in the hollow hall."
Vincent's eyes flickered with the faintest trace of clarity as a chant slipped from his lips. A soft silver glow spread beneath his palm. A complex rune slowly formed within.
"Let reason inspire and knowledge dissolve."
"What are you doing to me!? Answer me!" George's voice wavered with fear.
Vincent fell silent for a moment, he then looked down at the terrified clown and answered with the simple truth."I'm erasing your memories of Marco," Vincent said softly "And I will be erasing Harley's."
Damon's eyes widened.
Vincent's eyes, shifted to Damon. "I'm sure you read about this in the basics. It's the Mosynmonic spell." His chant paused just long enough for his next words to land like a cold verdict.
"It doesn't only induce amnesia. After extraction, the mind becomes clouded by fog. When the fog clears…" He tapped George's temple lightly. "The remaining memories rearrange themselves. Missing pieces are filled with what the mind finds logical."
George looked up confused when he heard that. It took him a moment but after figuring out what Vincent intended his resistance finally seemed to brake as the words hit him like a falling stone.
"No…" George whispered, the word choked. Then, louder, a desperate plea. "No, Viny, please! Don't do this! I won't come after you, I swear to ya and the Gods Just don't take my memories of Marco!"
Damon could feel the lie in the man's trembling. The rage and grief were too fresh. If let go, George would certainly hunt Vincent to the ends of the earth.
But Vincent didn't seem to care about the plea or the truth behind it. His expression didn't change. It was as if George's words were just noise.
"By synmonic decree, be free"
"And wear the fool's tranquility."
"Goodbye George" Vincent said softly. The silver light flared, swallowing George's head in a blinding flash. A single, choked gasp was the last sound George made before his body went completely limp, his consciousness surrendering to the fog.