It felt like a shock, an unexplainable weight pressing down on him. Sadness filled his eyes as he looked at the grieving parents of his late friend. Both parents looked like they had cried their eyes out, the tears already dried. They walked up to Timothy, a forced smile on their old faces.
"Why don't we excuse them?" The commander inquired. The room was cleared immediately, leaving only the Edgars and Timothy behind.
Timothy pressed his head down; he couldn't look at them in the face. He felt that he didn't have the right to look and speak to them. He tried forcing words out of his mouth, but as he tried speaking, they were just stutters.
The tone in which he tried to speak was low; "I-I am-am sorry I-I couldn't show up; I didn't think I had the right to."
The blonde woman walked closer to him and raised her hand, hitting his face sharply. Timothy just looked down; he deserved it, that's what he thought, but what Cecil's mother said was shocking.
Her voice was soft, though still shaken, as she spoke. "Why would you ever think that? She paused a bit. You think this is your fault? Why would we ever put the blame of his death on you, Timothy? Her eyes were forming another wave of tears; James Cecil came to console his wife, and he continued the conversation.
James calmly said. "Sit down, Timothy."
Timothy had been stubborn; he didn't answer at first, but the second time James said it, it came with a fatherly authority he had to obey.
All three sat down; James Edgar placed his hand on Timothy's shoulder, and he said, "You put this all on yourself, don't you, boy?"
Timothy made no response; he just had his head down as James continued speaking. "You don't want to look us in the face; I understand. You see, boy, I'm hurting, and Tina's hurting, but we can never ever say, " Timothy Slinger being associated with our son led to his death. "What father would I be if I blamed the death of my son on one of my own?
Timothy's eyes softened, glassy but dry, shadowed by the sadness he refused to release.
"Tim, you were his first friend, or more so, you were his brother. When we found out you were Vilex and all this hero stuff, we were happy for you, but we thought of the weight you would have on you. Whatever goes on in this city of ours, good or bad, you put it on your back. Do you know what he did after you left? He joined the police. He said, "If I can't be a hero like him, why not assist him from the shadows as a police officer?"
Timothy's eyes widened; what he heard was jaw-dropping and puzzling at the same time. Like a vehicle moving to a location, he went through memory lane.
He remembered a day years back before he became vile. It was a sunny day; both he and Cecil sat in front of a park.
Cecil said. "Can't lie, I'm jealous; now I get why you're pretty strong. You want to be a hero."
Timothy nodded and answered. "Yeah, I already have a mentor, but he plans to leave soon, so I want to learn what I can before he goes."
Cecil swiped sweat off his forehead. "That's good, so the thing is if he goes the city will be in your hands. He looked at Timothy's face, which carried a smile, and added. Be a hero, Tim. I'll make sure I am of help for you when you get back."
After the thought, he now really knew why Cecil joined the police, and he was the motivation behind that. Still, he still felt that if only he hadn't brought him into his own world. His face was filled with sorrow, and James caught the sight and spoke.
"You still worry even with all I've said. Well, it's expected. You know, when we found out, I thought, "How will his brother feel? What's my son's reaction to his brother's death?" I consider you my son, Timothy.
Timothy tried to force a smile, which couldn't come; he just squinted his eyes. Tina chimed in:
We see you as a son, Tim. We're both happy knowing that one of our sons is going to make the other proud."
James walked Timothy to a corner in the room. His eyes were fierce, and his tone carried seriousness.
"There's one thing I want from you, but I don't want Tina to know. Take revenge for my son; give to them what they gave us. They took him away from us; they brought sorrow to our doorsteps. I want you to do the same: give to them what they gave us, let them know what true pain is, and give to them tenfold. James said all this with disgust, hatred, and anger—emotions that showed he wants to see his son's killer six feet under.
James had turned to leave when Timothy placed his hands on him; his grip on the ginger man had intensity. James turned back; he saw the look on Tim's face. Timothy's eyebrows burrowed, his teeth clenched, and the once depressed expression had worn off. He growled:
This is not an act; it's an assurance. I swear, sir, whoever caused all this, I'll make their heads roll to the floor.
James let out a little smile. "Thank you, and lest I forget, we plan to bury him at home, so you better show up this time."
James turned away; his wife was ready, and it was time to take their leave. Timothy rushed to them; he took Tina's bag from her, offering a quiet comfort as he spoke.
"Let me take you two home; this city is not safe as it is."
Around the same time, inside a dark and gloomy warehouse, Jean sat with a skeletal silhouette. They spoke quietly as another person rose and turned to leave for the next room.
Jean called out. "Boss, when does the phase begin?"
In a cold but calm voice the figure replied. "We're not savages; let's give them time to relax. Phase two is not too far from now. From what I know, he's a tough guy; he has been our one obstacle, but we don't want to slip—he might start making moves again." The figure walked out. The skeleton next to Jean spoke no words, but as soon as the boss finished speaking, he left also, leaving Jean alone.
[Narrator]:
😒 She's alone again; I think she's going to do it again. Let's move from her.
****
The long day ended; night was upon the city.
Far away, in a temple lit with candles, Sage Micah meditated cross-legged. His brown eyes flickered open, robes swirling with arcane energy. Embroidered with glowing runes, his deep red cloak shimmered as the wind picked up.
"It seems they are all here; it's time for me to leave," he whispered to the lady beside him.
"Are you really leaving?" she asked.
"Yes. Fate calls."