Chapter Text
She buried him in the middle of the desert.
Alexandra took a rock and smashed his face with it until her brother was unrecognizable. His teeth pounded into dust. His hands were crushed much the same. Now there was no way to identify him if he were found, Alexandra took his hair comb and his brass knuckles, then buried him in a shallow grave in the middle of nowhere.
A week later, she found herself back at the frozen lake in Northern Canada where they grew up. The assassin carved out a section of ice in the middle of the lake, exposing the cold water to the air. She sat there for a while before taking out her brother’s weapon of choice and dropping it into the opening. As she watched the brass knuckles slowly descend into the darkness, she took out his hair comb and brushed her hair with it. Her mind was empty as it had been for the past week, she had just been going through the motions, enacting the final ritual each member of the family would go through when one of them passed.
As the cold breeze passed over her face, it brought back memories of their childhood. She heard a creak come from behind her. Alexandra turned to find her grandfather looking out from the cabin’s entrance, he looked the same as he did when they were children. They locked eyes before he retreated into the cabin, it was only at this point that a feeling began to well up within Alexandra’s chest. She couldn’t quite place it but she definitely didn’t like it.
His key didn't open the lock. Brann kept trying to wiggle his apartment key but the lock wouldn't budge. Eventually he got frustrated and started trying to force the door open as the girl hung out behind him. It had been weeks since he'd been home to his dinky little apartment. Weeks since he'd slept in his own bed and now that he's here, this door stood in his way.
"I changed the locks."
A familiar monotone voice came from behind Brann.
"Yeah, I can tell."
He turned around to face his middle-aged balding landlord. His landlord held up a pair of new keys. Brann tried to reach for them but before his fingers could grasp the key ring, his landlord quickly retracted his arm.
"Ah ah ah, you're late on rent. I'll need it first."
Brann scowled.
"Come on man, I just got back. It's like I wanted to be gone for so long."
"Doesn't matter. You're late, I don't make the rules."
Brann sighed and reached into the small bag he carried with him. He'd lost most of his clothes when Venice flooded. All that he had were a couple of spare clothes that Tiger's Maw gave him before he left. No, instead his duffel bag was mainly filled with something else. Brann handed his landlord a wad of cash and then another and another. More than enough to pay his rent and whatever late fees he'd incurred. The landlord's mouth was agape as he tried to balance all the $100 bills in his arms.
"That good enough for you?"
Brann said as he swiped the new key ring from hands occupied with a different task and opened the door but before he could close the door behind him, the landlord called out to him again.
"W-What's with the girl? Do I need to call the cops?"
He nodded towards the little blonde girl who wearing a t-shirt too big for her with a crudely drawn lion on it with the text "walk on the wild side" around it, shorts and bright pink crocs that Brann had bought for her at the airport in Dakar, and was now exploring the inside of Brann's sink.
"Uh…"
The girl looked nothing like him, that much was apparent so he had to come up with something quick.
"She's my niece, who was… adopted by my sister…"
Brann did not have a sister.
"…Who is going out of the country and I… promised to take care of her while she's gone."
"Uh huh."
This hasty lie did not seem to convince his landlord but he accepted the lie anyway, the middle-aged man turned away and gave Brann a wave before heading down the stairs.
"Nice tan."
Were the words he left Brann with.
"Thanks."
Brann's monotone response went unheard as he closed the door behind him.
The next few weeks were weird for Brann, he didn't need to work but found a part-time job to pass the time.
Once a month a large sum of money would be transferred to his bank account from an off-shore account under a fake name after which Brann would take out most of the money in cash and hid it under his mattress. He tried not to think about the legality of it all. Using this cash, he laid low while spending just enough to seem like he was living a normal life. He mainly spent this money on clothes and toys for the girl. In his free time, he tried to teach her English, she picked up words and phrases but he couldn’t tell if she understood what she was saying.
Brann thought back to what Magnus called her, “Emma”. It was a nice name but Brann didn’t think it fit her. E01 was what “they” called her, whoever “they” were. Evan, Emma, E01 a lot of E names. Brann wrote the letter E down on a flashcard and put it in front of her, she picked it up and tore it in two while shaking her head and scrunching her face.
“Guess that’s out of the question.”
Brann tried his best to figure out what language she spoke with Hush back in the cave but he found nothing. She didn’t know geography so she couldn’t point out where the language was from or where she was from. It didn’t sound like anything Brann had heard before so there were no leads there either. Going to a linguist or some other professional was out of the question as then they'd start to ask questions about her, questions Brann couldn't answer.
He was stumped.
Brann had been keeping an eye on news from Kazakhstan and from Venice since he left. The government of Astana had not been able to fully recover from the damages caused from Nowruz and Venice, well, Venice was still underwater. While the water level had gone down a little, most of the city was still uninhabitable.
One day, a knock came from Brann’s door. He and the girl were sitting on the couch watching cartoons, she jumped off the couch before he could get up and ran to the door. When she opened it, two figures stood in the doorway. A cold, deep yet still distinctly feminine voice came from the taller of the two.
“Hello, is a Mr. Brann Merrick here?”
Brann got up and walked to the door.
“Yes, that’s me, what do you need?”
The two figures, clad in long dark clothing, dug into their coats and pulled out official-looking badges. The woman spoke once more.
“My name is Agent Lucille Whitaker for Interpol and this is my partner, Agent Barnaby Barracks, we need to take you in for questioning.”
Brann sat alone in an interrogation room. The room was dull in color, light gray cement walls surrounded him and the room itself was populated by a single table and 2 chairs. Brann himself was sitting with his back to a wall, facing a mirror that, if his memory from watching Law and Order reruns was correct, was actually a window on the other side. He looked at himself in the two-way mirror, this wasn't the first time he'd stared at himself since he first left for Kazakhstan but the person who stared back still surprised him. His neck looked a little thicker, his face a bit more gaunt, his skin a bit more tan and his hair was longer than it had ever been, falling just past his ears. As Brann continued to stare into the two-way mirror, he wondered if he was inadvertently staring at someone on the other side. After what felt like an eternity passed, the agents entered the colorless room Brann found himself in but didn't add any color to the empty canvas they all shared. The older-looking woman, Agent Whitaker, sat down facing Brann while her partner stayed standing.
“Mr. Merrick, do you know why we brought you in today?”
“...”
Brann didn’t respond to Agent Whitaker’s inquiry. She smiled as she took out a folder from her briefcase and placed it on the table. When she spoke again, she spoke in a low voice though in a more conversational tone.
“How was your trip to Astana? I hear the weather there is lovely this time of year.”
Brann knew what this was all about.He resolved almost immediately to give as little information to the agents as possible. Back in Astana, when Brann had to give his story to the police there they didn’t believe him. Surely they’re going to ask Brann questions about Venice and his time in Senegal as well as the people Brann was associating with now. Things were complicated enough without getting Interpol involved.
“Barring the terrorist attack, it was nice.”
Brann replied curtly. It was no use to try and hide what happened to the agents. Somewhere in that file, Brann was sure that there was a transcript of his statement to Kazakhstani police about the incident.
“Still it seems you played quite the role in the attack, do you mind telling us about it?”
Agent Whitaker looked at Brann coldly, she chose her words carefully to try not to reveal too much to Brann, to get him to trip and fall over his own words. Brann sighed and let his shoulders droop, his time in Astana felt like such a long time ago at this point. Thinking back to that time, he felt like a completely different person than who he was then though he wasn’t sure he would’ve done anything different.
“I don’t really know what to say that you don’t already know, I got held up by some lunatic in a tower and well.. one thing led to another and…”
As Brann trailed off, the feelings from that time began to well up. The fear he felt as Timour held a gun to his head and the sensation he felt as the bat cracked Timour’s jaw. Maybe it was then when Brann began to allow himself to hurt someone else. As he trailed off, Agent Barracks started to pace around the room.
“I’m sorry for bringing up bad memories but we have to get through this.”
Agent Whitaker said in a faux sympathetic voice. Her eyes unsettled him, they reminded him of another person who seemed to look straight through him.
“You guys haven’t even told me why I’m here. I mean really, can anyone tell me why?”
Agent Whitaker stayed silent, leaving her partner to explain the situation. She took a strand of her long black hair with gray streaks and twirled it between her fingers as she kept leering at Brann.
“A lot’s happened in the past few months, terrorist attacks across the world, violent storms, and failed assassinations. Seems like you and your friends have kept busy.”
He was right on the money but who was the agent talking about when he mentioned friends?
“How’d a simple office worker like you end up in the pocket of one of Africa’s most dangerous warlords?”
Brann tried to pretend he didn’t know what they were talking about.
“What?”
Agent Whitaker sighed and opened the file on him.
“After leaving Astana you were put on a plane to Venice, records show that you stayed in Venice for a few days and weathered the typhoon that hit the city after that you disappeared. Only resurfacing to catch a plane from Blaise Diagne international in Dakar to JFK. Dakar is kind of a long way from Venice, so how’d you end up there huh?”
“A little birdy picked me up and flew me there.”
His joke did not go over well with Agent Barracks.
“Do you think this is a joke!? We have bank statements that show a large sum of money coming into your account on the 5th, the account that transferred you the money is thought to be connected to a man called Tiger’s Maw, a warlord that sponsors conflict all across Africa. Do you really want to be associated with that guy?”
Brann clasped his hands together.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why you-”
“Agent Barracks, can you get me a coffee, please.”
His partner cut him off before he could explode on Brann. Though she simply asked him for a drink, her tone made it clear that it was an order to go cool off outside.
“Tch, fine.”
He slammed the door behind him leaving just Brann and Agent Whitaker alone in the room together. If this had happened before Brann had left for Kazakhstan, he would’ve felt much more afraid of Agent Barracks but as of now, the one that terrified him was Agent Whitaker. She reminded Brann of Ulysses, their cold yet elegant demeanor, the way they looked at him, not like a person but instead a piece of meat. The same stoic look on their faces that didn’t change whether they had a puppy in front of them or a dying man. A slight smile appeared on her face peppered with beauty marks and framed with high cheekbones.
“Forgive my partner, he can be a bit hotheaded.”
Though she had smiled at Brann, there was no warmth behind it. At this point, Brann was convinced Agent Barracks’ outburst was a ploy to get Brann to open up to Agent Whitaker.
“I’m sure things must be tough for you right now, however, we must keep going.”
The interrogation lasted for what seemed like hours, at every turn Brann only responded with either what he assumed they already knew or silence. Eventually, Agent Barracks came back in with two coffees and a smile on his face.
“We got her. The boys are bringing her in right now.”
He spoke as he placed one of his cups in front of his partner. Brann tried to hide the confusion on his face but his concern was clear to them.
“You’re not the only one we’re bringing in today.”
Agent Whitaker said. Suddenly yelling could be heard from outside the room. It could be heard getting closer as Brann was finally able to place the high-pitched swearing and cursing happening outside.
“I didn’t do anything! Fuck all of you! I’m innocent!”
“Oh god.”
Brann muttered to himself as Sophia was carried into the interrogation room next to him. As she passed the window on the door, he could see how they brought her in. Four officers were carrying her by the arms and legs, trying to keep her from fighting them off though they weren’t doing very well. She and Brann locked eyes as they passed and the expression on her face turned into one of joy. She waved at him from the other side of the door and gave a very enthusiastic–
“Hi!!!!”
Lacking her energy, Brann waved back.