Hector returned with a walking stick from the hospital
James looked with it like a walking zombie, especially after he beat up Linda the stitches at some parts loosened especially in his ear so the doctor bandaged his his head.
The clothes Hector handed him only made things worse.
A gray suit, black shoes, and a black fedora-style hat. With that outfit, he looked like a gangster straight out of the 1950s.
And with the bandages and walking stick, he practically became one.
"I meant something like a t-shirt and joggers." James said looking at Hector after changing into the outfit.
"You need to make an impression, not just with words, but with how you look." Hector smirked.
"I get it, but it’s not the ’50s anymore."
"Yeah, but if you show up in a t-shirt and joggers, you’ll look like some low level street hustler who thinks he’s a gangster." Hector replied.
"I’m going to kill, not attend a fashion show." He grabbed the walking stick and took a step forward. "Fuck… everything hurts." He clutched his side.
Hector quickly stepped toward him, offering a hand.
"Maybe send Ferucci to do it instead."
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"No. I need to put a bullet in his fucking skull with my own hands."
They slowly walked out of the hospital, where the security detail was now larger than ever.
In front of them were eight blacked-out SUVs, each filled with bodyguards who, without any attempt to hide it, were openly carrying assault rifles and wearing bulletproof vests.
With eight SUVs, each packed with five guards, James had a security detail fit for a president.
But what caught his eye the most was the limousine parked between the cars.
"What is that?" He asked, stepping closer to it.
Hector smiled, his gaze sharp as he said, "It’s a gift from a friend."
"A friend?" James asked, looking at him, but Hector only smiled.
"You know Helios and the dictator? I helped him smuggle weapons. He heard about what happened and sent you this. And, well, it’s better than the SUVs."
"Isn’t he the one who killed over a thousand civilians after they protested against him winning the election three times in a row with 100% of the votes?"
"Uh… well, yeah." Hector looked away. "But this is better than the SUVs."
"Better?"
"Yeah. The SUVs are armored, but this car…" He pointed at it." It can withstand grenades and high caliber rounds. It also has a fire suppression system and an oxygen supply in case of a poison attack. And if that wasn’t enough, it has signal jammers too."
James sighed but stepped closer to the limousine.
One of the bodyguards rushed ahead to open the door for him.
He hesitated. "And you trust this?"
"If he wanted you dead, he’d send an ICBM, not a limousine." Hector smiled,
James shook his head and climbed inside. From the inside, the noise of the outside world faded, replaced by silence. Then Jame spoke.
"The report only said the police chief was involved, but it didn’t mention a name."
"Yeah, there’s a new one. I think he was specially selected for the operation. His name’s Gerard Matthias. Forty five years old. Spent ten years in the Marine Corps before joining the police force. Close friends with Takoi."
"And what about the NSBI Director?" James asked. "I read that he stepped down."
"He fled. A new one took over, and in his first week, he fired 114 agents for corruption, report manipulation, and bribery."
Fuck.
"But actually…" Hector hesitated before continuing. "Well, I’ll just say it, he sent you an invitation for dinner."
"What?" James stared at him, confused.
Hector smirked, realizing he had left out an important detail.
"I figured I’d hold it back until you were in a state to actually process things… So, he sent you a handwritten letter. And, well, to put it bluntly, he basically sucked your dick. Not literally, but the way he wrote about you, you’d think you were some kind of saint. He went on about how great you are, how you saved the city…" Hector chuckled at the end.
James looked even more confused. "What do you mean by the ’dick’ part?"
Hector grinned. "You know, like in those superhero movies, where the bad guy kills other bad guys, but he’s still a bad guy… until some bigger bad guy kills him. Then, suddenly, all the good guys mourn him, even though he was never one of them."
How the hell does he explain things this badly?
"Anything else?"
"Not much. Just a dinner invitation. Oh, and he wrote three whole pages about all the ’good’ things you’ve done."
"Sounds like another attempt to lure me into a trap."
"At first, yeah, it seemed that way." Hector admitted. "But actually, he was faster than you."
"Faster?"
"He went to the police station and attacked Gerard. Beat the shit out of him, then just walked out like nothing happened."
James thought about it, but he had a question that he had for a few days now.
"Interesting, but tell me one thing, Hector," he said, looking deep into his eyes. "You don’t seem to be sad or mourning Hans."
Hector’s lips curled into a faint smile. "Well, we all die one day. And I know that my job is to kill or be killed." He paused, his gaze shifting slightly. "I liked Hans, but I don’t connect emotionally with anyone except for you and my sister. That’s it. So, his death... even if it’s absurd to say, it means nothing to me. Just another guy who died."
"You really believe that?" James asked . "No grief, no regret?"
His eyes narrowed as he considered the question. "Grief is a luxury I can’t afford. Regret? What good would it do? The world doesn’t stop for anyone, and neither do I. I do what I have to do, and when it’s done, it’s done. Life moves on, even if we don’t."
James was unsure of how to respond.
Hector had always been this way, detached, unfeeling. It was the nature of his work, the constant dance with death that left no room for attachment.
"But doesn’t it ever... get to you? You don’t ever wonder what it all means?"
Hector’s lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, but it wasn’t one of amusement. It was the smile of someone who had long ago accepted the inevitable.
"The only meaning is survival." Hector said flatly. "And I’ll keep surviving until the day someone else decides it’s my turn to die. Until then, I’ll keep doing what I do. That’s all I can control."
There was no emotion in his voice, no sorrow, no joy, only the cold certainty of someone who had embraced the darkness and made it his own.
But then James fell in silence again and asked a question that Hector didn’t expect to come.
"What would you feel if your sister died the same way like Rafael?"
Hector’s gaze darkened but he looked at James with a smile on his face.
"If my sister died the same way Rafael did I wouldn’t just mourn her loss."
"I’d find every single person involved and make them beg for death. I’d make them watch as I carved their lives away, until there was nothing left but the stench of their own fear. I’d break their bones, pull their teeth and nails, rip out their hair, poke their eyes.
His smile widened as he imagined the scene before him.
"And when I finally stood over their broken, mangled bodies, I would laugh… because I’d know it was just the start, next would be their loved ones."
"So we feel the same way." James said.
"You think we feel the same?" Hector said, his tone steady, almost thoughtful. "Perhaps in some ways, but it’s different. I take pleasure in what I do, but you... you don’t just control the chaos. You become it. You shape everything around you, twisting it to fit your vision, no matter the cost."
He paused, his eyes locked on James’s.
"I’m not sure you even notice the destruction you leave behind. It’s just a part of the process for you, isn’t it? I envy that."
For a moment, James didn’t say anything. Then, suddenly, he started laughing, so hard that a tear slipped from the corner of his eye.
Hector stared for a second before shaking his head and chuckling. Then, his chuckle turned into full-blown laughter.
Finally, James spoke, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Envy me, huh?
Without warning, James grabbed Hector by the throat, pulling him.
Hector’s breath was instantly cut off, and panic surged in his chest.
James’s grip tightened around his neck, his fingers digging into his skin.
"Do you envy the guilt?" James’s words were dripping with a rage Hector hadn’t seen before. "Do you envy that Rafael died?"
"....no, James. I don’t envy your guilt…" Hector rasped, struggling to find his voice. His throat burned with each breath, but he pressed on, trying to keep his cool. "...I envy your control.".
His vision blurred, his face flushing with the lack of air. His mind raced, panic taking hold.
Was this it? Hector couldn’t understand the shift.
Just moments ago, they were on the same side, but now James’s grip felt like death itself.
James leaned in, his face inches from Hector’s, eyes dark with something dangerous, almost maddening.
"You envy this…you envy me?"
He’d never seen James like this. Never seen the raw fury, the emotion spilling out so violently.
This was something else.
"....I envy that you’re still human." Hector gasped out, barely able to speak.
James’s grip faltered for a brief moment, just a flicker of hesitation.
It was enough for Hector to draw in a desperate breath, his chest heaving with the sudden influx of oxygen. But it didn’t last long. The moment was gone, and James’s fingers tightened again, pushing him back into the suffocating darkness.
"Next time, speak carefully." James whispered and pulled away from him.
But Hector didn’t feel anger. No, he felt something far different. Something he hadn’t expected.
He felt fear, but also... admiration. He’d seen James as a leader before, as someone in control, but now? This version of James, this unhinged, dangerous, he was more than that.
He felt his leg shaking, his body betraying him in the presence of someone so overwhelming, so terrifyingly unpredictable.
The man he had worked alongside, the one he thought he understood, had just revealed something raw, something real.
The realization. He wasn’t just afraid of James anymore. He respected him even more.
And that fear... it wasn’t weakness. It was recognition.
"Next time, I’ll make sure you speak carefully," Hector whispered under his breath, but he wasn’t speaking to James anymore.
He was speaking to himself.
This James will take over everything.