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Silence.
The room was filled with an eerie silence, the only noise the vague hum of electricity running through the lights and the blood rushing through your veins. The man sitting in front of Henry had blood rushing no longer. A peculiar sight to see indeed, a bloodied body slumped on a toilet with a severed head in its lap. An hour ago, one would’ve heard the drip-drip of thick red splattering on tile, drops falling slower and slower before stopping entirely. And all that was left now was silence.
After everything, he had finally done it. The source of his madness, the cause of all his problems. Travis Touchdown was dead. This was it.
He could finally be at peace. He could finally be happy.
He was happy.
He was happy.
He WAS happy. He didn’t have a choice.
It had all led up to this. Years of bitterness and hatred and cold anger, reminiscing on the past and feeling nothing but regret. He should’ve finished the job long ago, when he first had the chance. He had been weak. A coward. He cursed that cowardliness.
His blood was on Travis’ hands. If it weren’t for Travis, he could’ve lived a normal life. If it weren’t for him, he wouldn’t have been kidnapped on that snowy day. If it weren’t for him, he could’ve had a happy marriage. And now, the older brother’s black gloves were further darkened.
But as he stood there in that poorly lit bathroom, staring at his little brother’s corpse, a pit had slowly started to form in Henry’s stomach that burrowed through his insides and made his head pound.
Killing Travis was supposed to solve everything, right?
So why?
Why didn’t he feel better?
His grip tightened on his katana’s hilt, his breathing became labored. Why? Why was this happening? Why him? Why?
The buzz of the lights seemed to grow louder. Suffocating white noise that echoed throughout your skull. TV static. A sharp pain you just couldn’t shake.
Another nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
Stepping away from the body, he glanced into the bathroom mirror. A figure stared back at him. It wasn’t his reflection. He didn’t even know what he looked like anymore. What he saw was nothing more than a cacophony of shapes and noise, fabric darkened by blood, flesh tainted with rot. A dead man walking. If there was once a soul, once a real person in this shell, he was long gone. All that remained was a hollow husk of a man. A man who, contrary to what he thought, was left feeling an odd sense of despair instead of the satisfaction he so desperately craved.
“GRRRAAAAAAHH!” He punched the figure with a single heavy swing, sending reflective shards flying. “Why... why don’t I feel better? Why? What have you done to me?” But Travis didn’t respond as Henry hunched over the sink, breathing heavily. He didn’t even notice the warm trickle from a fresh cut on his face, his senses dulled by his state.
A noise from outside the bathroom door, followed by the rattling of the doorknob. He stood there, wordless, his grip on the sink tightening ever slightly. Sylvia, now in the doorway, barely acknowledged him before setting her gaze on the corpse of her second ex-husband. She didn’t gasp, she didn’t scream. With her line of work, she was all too familiar with the sight of a dead body. Her senses must’ve told her what she was going to encounter in this bathroom before she had even entered the apartment. “Well, this is certainly interesting. Let’s meet outside, hm?,” she said coolly, followed by the sounds of footsteps getting further away.
If she was upset, Sylvia didn’t hint it in her voice at all. It was hard to read her on a good day; she valued keeping that air of mystery around her. It was what had once drawn in Henry, and later his brother, but it’s also what had eventually torn the pair apart.
Maybe Travis’ marriage was similar.
He didn’t want to think about it.
———
The air outside the motel was thick with humidity. It was typical for Santa Destroy; being on the water meant putting up with less than ideal weather. Henry hated it. Growing up, he had been used to the rain and the cold. The clouds and fog rolling over the countryside. Although it may have seemed miserable to many, he kind of liked it. But here, he had to deal with the heat. California was a subpar place to reside for multiple reasons, and Santa Destroy was no exception. It was never really his choice to live in this desolate city, yet no matter how hard he tried to leave, he always ended up back here somehow.
Sunset had slowly begun to fall, a blanket of reddish orange glow covering the land. As he made his way out of Travis’ apartment, Henry looked down onto the motel parking lot. The blood was gone. His own blood, most likely taken care of by the UAA cleaners at Sylvia’s command. He could still hear the sounds of beam katanas clashing, yet the lot showed no trace of a battle ever occurring.
Not many men had the chance to see the site of their own death after their demise.
He reminisced as he slowly made his way down the metal stairs. It was strange to see this place again, his first and last battleground with his younger brother. Their initial fight felt like it was lifetimes ago. If he had just finished the job back then— no, that didn’t matter now. They had both been on the brink of death, and their tussle would’ve likely killed them both if Sylvia hadn’t intervened. Even though he would never admit it, Travis was a formidable opponent.
After all, if he wasn’t, none of this would’ve happened.
Sylvia was leaning against one of the thin pillars, staring off into the distance, her blonde hair slightly shining in the evening light. Henry avoided eye contact with her as he headed towards the motel exit, to which she cleared her throat and asked “Leaving so soon?”
He balled his fists as he continued to look straight ahead. “I have nothing to say to you.”
A pause. Neither of them moved. Eventually, someone had to break the silence.
“Well, two children are now fatherless because of you. Just thought you might want to know.”
“I couldn’t give less of a shit. They were practically fatherless already, with him fucking around in the woods and all.”
“Mm.” Another pause. “You know, he may not have been the best husband, but at least he tried to protect his family, even if I disagreed with his method.”
Henry scoffed. “You really believe that? He was an assassin. If he was so fucking worried about his family, he would’ve quit killing when he could. Better yet, he could’ve chosen to never have kids in the first place. Stop pretending like he’s the victim here.”
“You act like you don’t understand perfectly well how difficult it is to leave the underworld once you’ve entered. That bloodlust haunted the both of you. After you have a taste of it, you can’t keep yourself from coming back.” She had a point there, at least, but she was leaving something out.
“It was your fault that he did. You set up all those fights over the years. Don’t talk all high and mighty when YOU were the one enabling him.”
She was quiet for a few moments, perhaps taking her ex’s words to heart. Maybe she knew deep down that he was right.
“Do you really want to bring up the fights right now?”
Henry exhaled, keeping his gaze on the horizon. He didn’t want to face Sylvia right now. He couldn’t. So many years of memories thrown out like trash. He never understood why she would leave him for his immature, low-life, idiotic younger brother. What could Travis have possibly offered her that he didn’t?
It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did.
The sun continued to gradually fall behind the city skyline.
“Don’t pretend like you don’t know the rules of this game.” Her voice had become slightly more stern, a hint of anger— no, disappointment behind it. “The UAA fights have always been fair. They’re about glory, bloodshed, proving yourself even though the world won’t notice whether you win or lose. But you, Henry? You are a coward.”
That word again. ‘Coward’. His fist clenched more. He wasn’t weak.
”For someone who used to care so deeply about honor, it’s surprising you would stoop so low as to kill him outside of a fight, when he was defenseless... The man I used to know would never even have such a thing cross his mind. What happened to you?”
“…Shut up. You wouldn’t understand.”
“I watched you two fight. He won, fair and square. And now he’s dead. Are you proud of yourself? Do you want a trophy, an award? You couldn’t even best him in combat. You are lower than scum.”
“Shut. Up.”
Disregarding him, Sylvia continued. “What’s in store for you now? Going to disband your little cult? Your mission is complete, they no longer have a purpose. Or are you going to keep them around to maintain that illusion of human connection? Let’s face it, you have no true friends, and now the last of your family is dead. You are now completely and utterly alone with no one but yourself to blame. So tell me, Henry. What do you want?”
He snapped around and stormed up to her, their faces mere inches apart. “I SAID, SHUT THE FUCK UP!”
He was breathing heavily, fueled by rage; his head felt hot, his vision dark around the edges. But Sylvia did not share this anger. Written on her face was a look of pity and disgust, with a hint of contempt.
“And to think that for ten years I truly believed that I loved you. Goodbye, Henry.”
Sylvia adjusted her glasses slightly before turning and briskly walking to one of the lower apartment doors, opening and shutting it with some force, but not slamming it. The sound of a lock clicking. End of conversation.
Various voices and thoughts were swarming in his head. With Sylvia’s final words to him, all ties he once had were now officially severed. His past was dead. And with his past, a large piece of himself. A limb with a festering wound that needed amputation.
But nothing was making sense. Joy, sadness, anger, regret, grief, confusion, all melting together and settling in his stomach, coming up through his throat and suffocating him. He was struck with a nausea worse than any normal sickness. It finally hit him that he might truly be broken beyond repair. Everything was fucked up. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to do.
Travis was dead.
Henry blinked. He was standing in the bathroom again, staring at the carcass, which looked just as it did before. No recollection of going back upstairs. Everything shrouded in fog. He couldn’t stop staring at the lifeless eyes hidden behind those orange sunglasses. He couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. He needed to get out. He needed to get rid of this wretched thing. He was the only one who could put an end to it all.
Travis was dead.
An open grave, a shovel by his feet, dirt on his gloves and on his trenchcoat. He must’ve done this. On the ground, a black trash bag. The body was inside. He just knew.
Normally, Henry would’ve left the body sitting in that bathroom. Make a statement. But not this time. Travis had to be gone. He needed to bury him, get the corpse out of his sight, out of his mind, out of his head. Couldn’t throw him into the ocean, would eventually wash back up. Couldn’t burn him, the skeleton would remain. His brother was torturing him from beyond the grave.
A nuisance in life and death. Henry couldn’t escape him. No escape. No exit.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was that the body would be gone. He would never have to see it again.
Someone was approaching him. Turning quickly, his heart still racing, he saw a rudimentary coffin being carried by a couple of his Emerald Night members. He must’ve called them here, even if he didn’t remember it.
The two were wordless as they slowly shuffled towards the large hole in the ground. Their suits were stained with dirt as well.
The coffin was lowered, lid creaking open. Trash bag torn at the seam. They took Travis out. Carefully dropped him in. Body first. Then the head, put in place. They stood up, turning back towards their leader.
Nothing in Travis’ eyes. Devoid of life. Devoid of tears. He was probably crying in hell right now. He fucking deserved it for everything he did. He deserved it for making his brother suffer.
“Do it.” Henry’s tone was rough, but he didn’t have it in him to say anything more, nor did he want to. The two quietly nodded before shutting the lid and starting to fill the hole back up.
He couldn’t get rid of that ‘what now?’ feeling, the pain in his head.
It didn’t matter.
Travis was dead.
Henry was happy.
His new life had just begun.