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Charles' death had been the breaking of a dam, the thing that unleashed the darkness that had always lay deep beneath Henry's skin. Henry was done playing around with distracting dances and motorized scooters, he wasn't messing around anymore. Henry was tired of just having fun and running from place to place with different governments and organizations on his tail.
Now Henry was going to be the predator that stalked its prey, haunting its mind before moving in and making the kill. Henry was not going to be merciful, and everyone that had been involved with Charles's demise would regret their choices.
But first, Henry had something to attend to.
Today, the day of Charles's funeral, was the first time that Henry had been completely sober since he had gotten back from the space station. He had spent his days trying his hardest to numb to pain from his aching heart with quick sips from his flask when nobody was looking, his head constantly fuzzy and unfocused. General Galeforce had checked up on him a few days after he had been released from the hospital - where he had been sent to be treated for shock and the various scrapes and bruises he had obtained during the fight on the space center -, but Henry had enough practice at lying and pretending that he managed to convince the man that he was doing alright. Henry didn’t want to worry the man, General Galeforce had been close to Charles as well. The General had been the one that recruited the talented pilot and had watched him rise through the ranks, and Galeforce hadn’t taken his death well.
The days after Henry’s return from the space station had been spent with him huddled on a stool in the corner of some run-down and dark bar, drinking heavily and rethinking the events that had led up to Charles demise. Henry had spent hours going over his choices, again and again, wondering if Charles would have survived if he had just been quicker, or if they had taken a slightly different route through the station. Wondering if he could have been the one left behind, instead of Charles.
Had Charles death have been all Henry's fault? Could it have been preventable?
What did Henry do wrong?
But today, watching as various guests stepped out of their cars - all dressed in gloomy shades of grey and black - to approach the grave, Henry didn't chase away those thoughts or his painful emotions with a strong drink. Not today. Henry wouldn't disgrace his friend's memory by being a drunk idiot at his funeral.
The funeral ceremony was taking place in the small town where Charles had grown up, his family, friends, and fellow military members gathered to pay their final respects and say their final farewells to the helicopter pilot that had sacrificed his life so Henry could escape.
Henry didn't join the main group that was gathered around the hole dug in the dirt in front of the gravestone that had been placed earlier that day. He might have been made a member of the military and had been given a pardon for his crimes, but Henry was no fool. He wasn't blind to the judgmental looks and the hands that tightened around weapons when he passed. He might have been legally forgiven for his crimes, but he would never be truly forgiven for his past.
Charles had never been like that. The pilot had accepted that Henry had a less than stellar history and didn't treat him any different because of it. Charles and Henry truly had formed a great bond with each other throughout their time working together on various operations. Charles always treated Henry as his partner, despite Henry's actions that opposed the government he was working for.
“We make a great team, don’t we?”
Henry stood away from the main group, standing tall beside a looming willow, his form hidden in its shadows as he watched the funeral from his distance. He was barely able to hear the words that people said as they stood up one by one, mentioning funny stories about him, or talking about how he had always been there in their time of need. How Charles had never let them down.
Charles had been a good man.
One by one, people got up and said their piece, before sitting down - most pulling out a tissue or handkerchief to wipe away the tears that had streaked down their cheeks.
As the last person, Charles's mother, sat down - her husband wrapping an arm around her and whispering to her as he offered her a handkerchief -, the coffin was slowly lowered and people gathered to toss in shovelfuls of dirt one by one to fill in the grave.
As the gathered people slowly split off into their own little groups and began to all make their way to the parking lot, the ceremony over and done with, Henry carefully made his way to the newly erected gravestone.
As he knelt in the recently disturbed dirt, Henry let out a soft sigh, before pulling off the headset that he had had settled around his neck, placing Charles's classic red-and-black headset on the grave. They were the only thing left of Charles.
"Charles, my old friend." Henry's lips quirked upwards into a sad smile as he trailed his fingers over the words that had been engraved on Charles's grave. 'Gone from this world, but ever-present in our hearts'. Henry knew that to be true. Above that were the words 'Charles Calvin', and his date of birth to the date that he had died. Charles had been so young, he had only been twenty-two. The youngest and best pilot that they had ever seen.
The pilot that would never fly again.
"Henry!? I thought you were dead!”
"You know, I always thought our roles would be reversed in this situation." Henry chuckled, "I think you did too. I've had so many brushes with lady death, but you were always up in your helicopter... safe and sound. But..." Henry pulled the brim of his hat lower over his eyes as he took a shaky breath in, his vision turning blurry, tears welling up as he thought back on how Charles had ended up where he was now, his empty coffin buried six feet under, his body left to the vacuum of space dozens of miles above Henry's head. "You told me you always dreamed of going out like a 'hero'." Henry exhaled shakily. "I guess, you achieved your dream. I'm sorry that it was so early."
Henry never even got to see his friend's face again, after he had left him behind in the space station.
Feeling something wet drip from his fingers, Henry looked down to see that he had been clenching his fist so hard that his nails had dug into his skin, beads of bright red blood oozing from the crescent-shaped cuts and dripping down his skin.
Releasing his fist, Henry took in a few deep breaths to calm himself and focus back on the situation at hand.
"I swear on this, Charles, I swear on my life that I will not let you be forgotten. I will not let the people responsible get away again. I will get my revenge for you. That, I promise." He stood up, trailing a hand across the gravestone as he cast his shadowed eyes to the sky above his head. "Goodbye, old friend."
Henry felt no loyalty to this government or its people, but he did towards the man that had saved his life so many times over the years. The man that had died for him.
Henry wouldn't rest until each and every member of the Toppat clan was dead. He wouldn't rest until every single person that had been involved in Charle's death was gone.
Henry had been playing around before on all of his previous missions, just looking for a quick buck or paying back debts.
But now he was on a mission, and Henry wouldn't rest until he got his justice. And Henry would give no mercy. Not anymore.
"This is the greatest plan!"
Charles always liked his plans, and Henry had one. He would complete the mission, he would finish the plan that Charles had started but would never be able to.
Henry straightened and stood tall, raising his hand to salute the grave. Lowering his hand, Henry turned his back to the grave and reached down to dust the dirt from his pants that he had gotten from kneeling before the gravestone, and readjusted the brim of the hat he was wearing, before confidently striding off.
His mission had begun. And he wouldn't let Charles down.
“We did it though. We got 'em. Pretty good plan. You could say it was the greatest-”