Brandon Davis was his name.
Brandon Davis was a simple man. He was born and raised in Alberta, Canada. Thanks to the evolution of the oil industry, various job opportunities, technical courses, and colleges opened up, significantly enhancing the already high quality of life in the country.
The problem was that this also increased competition for jobs. Scams promising employment opportunities turned out to be pyramid schemes selling investments, courses, and other money-draining endeavors. The blame also fell on public and private schools that, without any consideration, encouraged their students to enroll in practically everything.
Brandon, however, was savvy about where to invest. Despite the country's economic growth and the exaggerated and intrusive offers of knowledge, he knew he could do something he enjoyed and make money.
The issue was breaking free from school.
His mother no longer had the best job. The salary was meager, even with the government raking in billions. It was like the industrial revolution. Despite the appeal from other nations and global organizations, no oversight was carried out. Since when would a developing country stop the obvious profit it was making? In short, he had to make a change.
His light involvement in organized crime was enough to raise some cash. Despite being a teenager, he had the ideal physique to be a loan shark collector. He was tall, and thanks to his part-time jobs (usually as a laborer, mover, or construction material delivery guy), he had an excellent physical build. Being tall (6'2") helped too.
He ended up getting involved in various fights and would return home with frequent injuries. But that didn't matter much. What was truly surprising was Brandon managing to finish high school, leading him to set his plan in motion.
He took classes on how to use weapons.
Pistols, revolvers, rifles, shotguns, machine gun—severything with the money he earned from loan sharking. The next step was enlisting in various companies in need of security, something every respectable company requires.
Especially government agencies.
He could be hypocritical, but government companies pay really well, something he couldn't ignore. Several applications were rejected, except one, which made a single request: enlist in the army. And he was fine with the idea.
He trained extensively, much longer than any other recruits, mastering the intricacies of his weapons, studying his weapon manual, practicing and fighting in unarmed combat. He knew he would put himself in incredibly dangerous situations in the future and that, to survive, he needed to be the best. When his training was complete, he was put to work hours after finishing. It was time to be an enforcer.
However, instead of resembling action movies where there's always someone uncovering hidden facets, proving conspiracy theories, committing terrorist acts, or anything else, Brandon found himself in a routine. A monotonous routine. Calm. And quiet. For three years.
And he was fed up.
Three years of service, despite a stable salary, was not what he enlisted for. He wanted out. What was the point of all that training? He had never been in a real shootout. They blocked some unauthorized reporters, but that was the most remarkable thing that happened.
There was no sense of danger.
No challenge.
No moment where life was on the line.
Kill-or-be-killed in a fraction of a second.
He did the same pointless job.
Day.
After.
Day.
Something had to change.
That's when some suited someone decided, on some monotonous day, to hand him an opportunity. It seemed some drunk idiot got killed in an alley. After studying the file for a while, he realized the evidence wasn't 100% coherent. There were some loose ends that didn't make sense.
This was a change of routine, something he needed. I don't think it's necessary to say he accepted right away.
What was left was to head to the city of Hellenz.
Things started moving when (perhaps out of conscience) the company paid for plane tickets to the neighboring city and also provided a driver to take him to Hellenz. They also handed him a phone for any questions.
Brandon Davis, 26 years old, and a new mission: Uncover the truth behind a murder.
----------------------------------------
Looking out the window, you could see that despite not raining, there were still many clouds in the sky. The news broadcasted the usual mix of politics, murders, robberies, and occasionally some good news about "a child who secured sponsorship to become a singer because of an internet video."
What a joke.
Not because of the news, but due to the false sense of information one had. Sure, it was good to know that rice, wheat, and other crops were doing well, selling high and all. This helped prices of various products stay low, but some news just didn't need to exist.
What bothered the most was that the truth remained hidden. Mafias, gangs, Yakuza, and other criminal organizations continued to roam freely. And worst of all, people didn't care. The main concern was putting food on the table, as it was a more pressing worry.
Sure, between buying a new phone and putting food on the table, the choice wasn't that complicated.
Still, it left a bitter taste.
Bitterness.
Anger.
All of this because the people who HAD the resources to help were more concerned with extracting even more money from those with basic needs to put into their bank accounts. And the only reason someone would do such a thing would be to serve as an anchor, pulling more and more people to consume a service or product.
And Serenity thought exactly like that before.
The eternal human irony of always having the 8 emotions that will always be in everyone's DNA. That the only thing that could destroy humanity would be itself.
Someone was knocking on the door.
"Come in."
Opening the door, a nurse entered the room. Serenity was in another house. A house that wasn't the one she had lived in her whole life. Certainly not the one Carlos said he had. It was much more refined, full of adornments and unnecessary rooms. Something that costs a lot of money. Money that was gathered very quickly.
"Good morning, Serenity! How are you feeling?" She asked with the typical enthusiasm of someone trying to lift someone's spirits.
Serenity turned her face to the nurse.
"I can't feel my legs. It's been 3 days."
This was the private nurse hired by Carlos. She was there precisely to check on her health, as she suffered from a Leg Infarction. Something that was still being examined by the doctors, even after 3 weeks.
"Shall we leave this room and do an activity?" The question was posed, in the same tone as a mother about to force her child to do something.
No response came. Not that the nurse needed one, as she was already pushing the wheelchair toward the kitchen.
There, preparing a simple meal, Serenity pondered her life. Or rather, the recent events. The last thing she remembered clearly was the day of the accident. Before that, there were no problems recalling other events.
What happened after her awakening was also easily remembered. And thinking about it hurt her heart.
Daniel. Dead.
The idea of departing in such an... unremarkable way. Easily forgettable, like a television news report. In no time, his existence would be completely forgotten.
And that hurt.
It hurts to see that a stubborn and hot-headed person, who could experience a hint of love, could be deleted from people's minds.
Ah, who could she fool?
It was Serenity who was suffering. Brushing it off, justifying it as other people, was just a way to lessen her own pain. She would be and always would be the one who suffered the most from this.
Discovering the quirks, how to deal with the short fuse, seeing the smile of their achievements, being able to touch his skin. It was no longer possible.
A luxury she couldn't have.
She couldn't even see him one last time. When she heard the news, he was already buried. She was denied the right to say goodbye. It was unfair. It was cruel. It was stupid.
And that hurt.
"Here it is!"
The nurse, placing the plate on the table, snapped Serenity out of her thoughts.
"Thank you."
At that moment, the doorbell rang.
The nurse answered the door, apologizing to Serenity for a moment.
Upon opening the door, a slightly tall man, wearing a coat, pants, athletic shoes, and a white shirt, was staring at the young woman.
"Is this where Serenity Henrique is?" The man asked, slightly impatient.
The nurse didn't respond at first, shocked by the direct question.
"I'm a Private Detective," he clarified, showing a document that corroborated his statement.
Seeing the document, the nurse allowed the man into the residence. Soon, coffee and cookies were offered, basic courtesies for a visit. All were declined.
Serenity., who hadn't even touched the food, shifted her gaze from the plate to the man sitting at the table.
Brandon Davis, the man, looked at the face of the victim's relative in his case. Knowing almost nothing about investigations, he did the most obvious thing, which was to talk to family members, related people, and others who fit the profile.
However, upon seeing the woman in front of him, he felt nothing but pity.
Her eyes seemed red, probably from crying a lot, dark circles making her eyes sunken, hair that, despite being neat, gave off a cold atmosphere. She was thinner than usual for women of her height. The look of disdain and disinterest directed at him didn't help at all.
The first thing he did was show the document proving his line of work.
"My name is Brandon Davis. I'm investigating the case of your..."
He stopped before completing the sentence. It seemed like every word he said made the woman a little more uncomfortable.
In response, Serenity. slowly nodded.
"What do I owe the displeasure of you being here?"
Okay, that was unexpected. Brandon decided to ignore it for the sake of the investigation.
"First of all, I'll leave my contact card here," he said as he placed the card on the table. "And I'd like to ask some questions, if you're willing, of course."
He added the last part when the nurse showed signs of protest.
"Alright, I can answer some."
Brandon took out a notepad and pencil.
With a sigh, he began.
"To start, when did you and Daniel meet?" A simple question, ideal to start and create an empathetic tone.
"We met at the gym near the center. 'Brute Force,' if I'm not mistaken. My family was known, so when I was looking for a job to save money for college, they were the first to offer." Serenity. explained.
"How long ago was that?"
"A little over a year and a half ago."
Brandon noted the information. So, Daniel and Serenity. met quite a while ago. Perhaps still in the peak of their love for each other. He made a slight grimace at the thought of being on the other side of the conversation.
"How did you two meet?" he asked to prevent his thoughts from turning into doubts.
"Well, my brother Carlos is a lawyer. At the time, he was a Public Defender, and it turned out they met because Daniel was accused of assault."
Serenity paused, recalling more details about her brother talking about "a troublesome, stubborn, and quirky client." She also remembered the slight laugh she gave at his slight suffering.
"Thanks to my brother's efforts, he was acquitted, citing Autism as a justification. I never knew if he really is Autistic or not. It was never a problem for me."
Brandon noted some more things in his notebook. It seemed that Daniel was autistic. But if that's the case, there should be official records of his condition.
Which raised another question:
"Have you never received government assistance?"
"Pension?"
The nurse, who was attentively listening to the conversation while washing dishes, decided to provide some knowledge on the matter:
"Regardless of the degree of autism, even if it falls within the Autistic Spectrum, they are entitled to receive a small compensation. Usually around $500."
"I never even heard of that." Serenity replied with a contemplative expression.
Alright, that was weird. Either Serenity didn't receive the money due to government incompetence (which was quite likely), someone other than her received the money, or...
"Were you going through any relationship problems?"
"Problems?" she asked, confused.
"Yes, something unresolved. Arguments, responsibilities..."
"As far as I know, no-"
CRACK
In reflex, Brandon looks toward the sudden noise.
Only to see that the nurse dropped a plate on the floor. A porcelain plate that, due to its composition and weight, made a much louder noise than usual.
Recovering from the startle, he looked back at Serenity. And her expression of professionalism turned into one of horror.
She was hunched over with her head resting on the table, arms wrapped around herself as if protecting from whatever it might be. Trembling, crying, and sobbing, even though there was no apparent danger.
Serenity's mind was racing. Remembering the accident, no, the hostage situation, remembering how she ended up like that. How she almost had a brain injury. How she ended up in a coma. How that was the last time she saw Daniel.
How Daniel saved her.
----------------------------------------
Seven months ago
Daniel woke up, and as always, after Serenity. The clock on the bedside table showed it was already 9 in the morning. It was a usual routine.
He would wake up, take a shower, brush his teeth, and go down to the kitchen where Grandpa and Serenity. were patiently waiting for his awakening so they could have breakfast.
"Bonjour, sleepyhead," Serenity. was the first to greet.
"What?"
"It means 'good morning, sleepyhead,'" Jack explained, not taking his eyes off the newspaper.
Daniel rolled his eyes. He sat at the table. His breakfast consisted of protein and carbohydrates. Couscous, egg, and bread. A necessary diet for someone competing in the Middleweight class in boxing.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm just thinking about how the fight will go," Daniel replied.
"You studied his game, right?" Serenity. inquired.
"Yeah... Yes... But I didn't have any sparring. I didn't do the practical part," he complained.
"You only like doing the practical part."
"I don't see you complaining when we do our 'practice.' You even get out of breath." Daniel flirted lightly.
"NOT IN THE MORNING!" Grandpa Jack made sure to draw the line there.
Serenity could only laugh.
"Maybe some other time, I have to go to work."
"See you at 6?"
"Hmhmm."
And so, the couple parted for now.
Daniel also had to get ready. He almost failed the weigh-in the day before, so he had to ensure he wouldn't go overboard with water. He had to stay within the weight class.
Few people know, but water does make you heavy. That's why there's dehydration in saunas before the fight. And let me tell you, the experience of cutting weight is not pleasant at all.
But what would he do all day? The fight was at 7 in the evening. He had... about 10 hours to prepare.
Reading was out of the question. He had the slightest concentration to sit and read. Listening? Easy. He would absorb anything said into memory like hot wax and a marker. A sealed letter with all the necessary information.
He also didn't want to watch anything on TV. The only things he watched were fights, action movies, and when he had the patience, romcoms. But he only watched them because of Serenity... Sure, there were some movies that were genuinely funny, but they didn't fit his sense of humor.
The last thing he lacked was the internet. Despite being part of the "Gen Z," his connection to the internet was minimal. It didn't help that his grandpa also didn't care about the web.
But what would he do? Sit around twiddling his thumbs?
The first challenge was figuring out how to use the computer. Sure, he had a cellphone, but it was an old one. It still had buttons. So calling someone wasn't difficult. Just type the number, and that's it.
He used the mouse to click on the "Browser." It was the closest thing he thought to be a library or something like that. His surprise was evident when he found out he was correct.
"Good job, me."
The next scene would make anyone with minimal typing experience want to pull their hair out. With all the care in the world, Daniel typed, letter by letter, minute by minute, "Amateur Boxing Videos."
The whole process took 4 minutes.
Choosing the specific video was easy.
He watched several videos of various fights. For him, they were all impeccable, even though they were amateur. Perhaps because he, too, was an amateur. The fundamentals of boxing were in his head, but just by watching some sparring sessions, he was left in awe.
The technique, strength, speed, and fluidity left nothing to be desired. It was both inspiring and depressing. Inspiring because it was a point one could reach and depressing because he knew he still had a long way to go.
He stopped watching when his stomach growled. Checking the time, he realized it was already noon.
He spent 3 hours watching sparring videos and didn't even notice the time passing.
Maybe he wouldn't notice the passage of time that much.
----------------------------------------
Serenity was bored.
It was a little past 5 in the evening.
For everything that mattered today, what was most worthwhile was watching Daniel's first semi-professional fight. He couldn't stop talking about this fight. He seemed like a child who received a gift he had been asking for for years.
And she loved seeing this slightly childish side of Daniel. It was good to see the "gothic and dark" guy smile. It was something she always asked for, and he always kindly complied with the request.
"Someone seems happy," Carlos greeted.
"Oh, hi! I didn't know you were coming. If I knew, I would've bought a coffee." She said, shaking a half-full coffee cup.
"The gym is growing."
Carlos commented, looking at the place. Indeed, since Daniel started training here, some people began to show up. Whether it was because of Daniel or because the sport was becoming more popular, she couldn't say.
"And what do I owe the visit?" The patient sister asked.
"Daniel is waiting for you outside. I'll cover for you here."
"Seriously?" She said incredulously.
"Hey."
"Holy shit!" Serenity shouted.
Daniel was there, standing, looking at the face of his love, with the biggest poker face there is.
"That's my cue," Carlos declared, heading to the reception counter.
"Weren't we supposed to meet at 6?"
"Are you doing something here?" Daniel asked.
"No..."
"Then let's go."
Well, since it's like that, they went.
They chatted here and there. To be completely honest with herself, for Serenity, being away from Daniel was unbearable at best. It was as if every moment was neutral and empty without him. Call it strong passion or whatever, but that's how it was for her. And apparently, Daniel reciprocated that idea. He used to be just a brawling barfly with no future and no purpose. But now? He was a real man.
It's ironic how the simplest thing can change a person's life.
They were walking, getting close to the fight venue. Grandpa Jack had already called and said he was on his way. There was less than 40 minutes left for the fight.
They decided to stop at a clothing store.
According to Serenity, she wanted to wear a "special" outfit to encourage her beloved to win the fight. Who knows, if he didn't get hurt too much, he might even receive another "reward."
Needless to say, this motivated them a loooot.
The couple was torn between two clothing sets. Two outfits, to be exact. One of them was a backless dress, appealing a lot to the sexy look, while the other set screamed "chic," but was a bit more casual.
In the end, they chose the dress, as Daniel put it, "it's easier to take off."
Serenity was convinced.
The salesman felt uncomfortable.
They left the store and were waiting for the signal to cross the street. It was busy, few pedestrians passing by. So when one approached, they didn't worry. The signal was about to open.
Or was it? It was taking longer than usual. And the cars kept passing and passing...
"The signal is malfunctioning," one of the people waiting for the signal to open said.
Indeed, it seemed that only when they stepped onto the crosswalk would a driver realize that pedestrians wanted to cross. Suddenly, a passerby sprinted from the other side of the crosswalk. He was wearing a cap and shorts. No shirt, but had a sports bag.
The guy was almost run over twice and was panting. He seemed... Desperate? Scared?
No. He was looking for something. Daniel looked around, trying to figure out what this crazy person could be looking for. Until he felt a jolt.
And cold metal at his neck.
"There he is!"
"He has a hostage!"
"Daniel!"
The crowd started to look at the scene. The passerby wasn't just anyone. He had a revolver. The bag he had wasn't just a bag. It had a lot of money inside. And those chasing him?
Police.
"Stay right there! Or this idiot here gets shot!" The bandit threatened.
At this point, most people had already bolted. Everyone except Serenity.
"Ma'am! Please step away!"
The officer's warnings went in one ear and out the other. Serenity was too focused on the sudden hostage situation. Her green eyes connecting with Daniel's brown eyes.
Her brain went from 0 to 100 in the blink of an eye. A single distraction caused them both to be in this situation. One that neither of them could predict. She couldn't process any thoughts except for feelings of concern, fear, and anguish.
"Hold on, buddy, I think-" Daniel tried to defuse.
BANG
Just for the criminal to fire his gun. A single warning shot. The police didn't dare say anything for a while. A complete standoff.
"Take me." A female voice echoed.
Both the police and the bandit were surprised.
"What!? Are you crazy, love?" Daniel expressed his obvious outrage.
Ignoring Daniel's protests, she explained:
"My family has many properties and businesses around the city; I would have much more value than an amateur boxer."
Despite the cold and harsh tone, the police understood the girl's real intention. Carefully - and with the silent blessing of the police - Serenity approached the bandit, hoping the police would do their job.
FWOOOSH
BANG
Apparently, Daniel didn't understand what Serenity was doing.
As she approached, the bandit released Daniel, who immediately tried to grab the guy's gun. The effort logically led to the gun being fired in some direction, but the police didn't just stand there and managed to subdue the bandit.
Daniel was proud of himself, holding the gun in his hand, looking at the defeated bandit triumphantly.
"Huhghn..."
Thud
Daniel turned towards the noise.
Serenity.
Did she have a new stain on her shirt? Was that always there? Why was she kneeling on the ground? Why was her green shirt turning dark? Why was her hand red?
What was happening?
----------------------------------------
Brandon was getting frustrated. According to the Morgue report, the Forensic Technician, and the Police as a whole, they all said the same thing.
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"A 22-year-old Afro-descendant was shot on a Wednesday night in the year 202X, found dead behind a landfill. Last seen entering Terris Bar."
The autopsy indicated that the young man had obviously taken a beating and then was killed by two shots, one in the leg and the other in the head.
According to reliable sources, Daniel used to go to that bar all the time (or at least he used to). It was a habit he had at the beginning of the year, but before that, it didn't happen. If what Serenity said holds value, he wouldn't go to such a place, as he needed to focus on his fights.
No, he needed to proceed with caution.
According to public records, Daniel started working as a mechanic's assistant, something related to engines. He needed to check the files of everyone related to that position.
The next thing to do would be to talk to other family members. A good idea would be to have a chat with the brother-in-law, Carlos. A successful lawyer and owner of a boxing gym. Promising. According to the city, the Henrique family has always been successful. Which means they must have various connections.
Another thing he had to check was the files of the Daniel Case. Not receiving government assistance for autism? Even when proven in court?
Well, the priority list:
1 - Check Terris Bar.
2 - Check Daniel Case Records.
3 - Talk to Carlos.
4 - Check Employment Records.
Since he was close to the bar, he decided to stop by first.
Opening the door, the scene that greeted him had... Quite a bit of class. The place seemed to have been recently renovated. New lights, drinks on display, and more attendants available, in addition to Terris himself.
Brandon glanced at the customers present as he walked to the counter. Many men in suits, jackets, and other elegant clothes.
"Welcome. Will you be having anything?" Terris himself asked.
Brandon showed his identification, only for Terris's expression to change from smiling to slightly apprehensive.
"Could you answer a few questions?"
Terris let out a slight sigh. He was getting too old for this.
"Feel free, sir."
"Do you know Daniel Ashman?" Brandon asked as he took out his notebook.
"Yes. The lad had a hot temper. Loved talking about his life, without me even saying a word. You know, oversharing?" Terris returned to his normal tone, responding while serving orders.
"He used to come here quite often, from what I heard."
"Yes, he started coming here about 8, maybe 7 months ago. Seems the woman who was with him ended up in a coma. And he felt guilty about it." The old man said with a slight empathy.
"Besides drinking, what did he do here? Did he come alone? And what happened to this woman?" Brandon inquired about the last point.
"...look..." Terris hesitated a lot, to the point that no matter what he said, it would only make him more suspicious.
Brandon patiently waited for the answer, staring directly into his interlocutor's eyes.
"Can we talk in private?" Terris suggested.
However, he didn't wait for a response. He was already heading to a room inside. They passed through the stock area until they reached a room.
Brandon was observing the old man very cautiously. He was walking hastily, tense, and worried. His body language was making him nervous. The room they entered was an office.
Analyzing the room, it was a cubicle with a desk, a table with various documents and papers, a computer, and a cabinet. The table where the computer was had some books, which he judged to be notes.
Terris opened the cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.
"Do you want some?"
"..."
"What a shame."
He put away one of the glasses and poured himself one.
"To answer your first question, I need you not to mention me directly in the files of this investigation," Terris requested, taking a sip of his drink.
"Why?"
"Because that would send me to jail. And I'm not exactly a legally accepted immigrant here."
"Fair enough."
Terris sat down, grabbing one of the books. Opening it, he handed it to Brandon, who promptly sat down.
"This book contains records of the fights we held here at the bar. I earned a 28% cut of the winnings, as we used my bar as the ring." Terris began to explain.
Analyzing the book, Brandon concluded that the idea of hosting Illegal Fights didn't directly coincide with the period when Daniel started frequenting the bar. The first record is from a week before his direct involvement.
"I believe Daniel participated in these fights, right?"
"Yes," he said as if he were regretful. "That also answers your second question."
"How so?" Brandon asked, confused.
"To enter a fight, you have to receive a 'sponsorship,' like a blessing," Terris elaborated.
"And who could give this 'blessing' you're talking about?"
"Few people can give the blessing. But I believe it's not hard to figure out who would profit from it." Terris said, looking at the still-open cabinet.
Looking at the cabinet, a bead of sweat ran down Brandon's forehead.
It was a Taurus suit.
Of course they are involved.
"How did the fights work?", Brandon asked, changing the subject.
"The rules were decided a day before the fight. The coaches determined the rules, and the fighters only showed up at the time of the fight. Obviously, there was no weight limit or anything considered an 'official rule.'" The old man explained, finishing his whiskey.
"Coach?"
"Yes, but I can't reveal who it is."
Both glanced at the Taurus suit in the cabinet out of the corner of their eyes.
"It won't be necessary. But what about my last question?"
"The woman's name is Serenity."
"Oh, yes, I know who she is."
"So, I heard that one day when they were leaving home, Daniel was taken hostage by a criminal fleeing the police. The girl managed to get Daniel to escape, but she ended up shot in the process." Terris put his hand on his forehead, recalling the story.
"It's understandable for him to feel that way," Brandon nodded to himself.
"But that's not all."
"Huh?"
"When he saw the girl bleeding, he took the criminal's gun and emptied the entire cartridge into the man."
Wow. That must have been gut-wrenching to witness.
"I don't know how, but his lawyer managed to cover up almost everything."
"And who would be the lawyer?" Brandon quickly followed up on the information.
"...Carlos Henrique," he said after a brief silence.
"Ah, that makes sense."
----------------------------------------
Serenity took a while to calm down. That man, Brandon, made her remember something really bad. But the truth was undeniable, whether she liked it or not.
She didn't know what had happened to the guy who used Daniel as a hostage, but in her humble opinion, she wasn't so interested in finding out.
"I'll leave the food here. If you need me, just call," the nurse comforted.
Serenity didn't pay attention. Despite being emotionally shaken, she was focused on that memory. What had really happened? It was a question she couldn't clarify on her own.
In a sigh of defeat, she started to eat, very slowly. She wasn't hungry, but if she didn't eat, she would have problems.
It's kind of obvious, but anyway.
She picked up her phone and, without taking the utensil out of her mouth, searched for her brother's contact. A few seconds later, he answered.
"Hello?"
"Carlos. It's me."
"Good morning. Did something happen?" Papers being shuffled could be heard in the background.
"Everything's fine. I just wanted to ask you some questions."
"I'm a bit busy right now, but depending on the question, I might be able to answer. Hey! Watch out! That's pretty expensive!"
Serenity chuckled lightly. She knew he was now "a businessman" instead of just a lawyer. It was refreshing to see Carlos grow on his own. He had always been independent, even as the younger brother.
Two minutes younger, but anyway.
"I want to know where Mr. Jack is. He hasn't visited me yet."
"...It's because he passed away." He said after a brief silence.
Wait... What? Grandpa Jack? Died? Why did he die? How did he die?
"He died of cancer. He kept it from everyone. Even from Daniel," Carlos explained.
So, she couldn't even say goodbye to him? What the hell was happening? Was it specifically against her? What did she do to deserve this?
No, no, no, no. More importantly, why did Grandpa Jack hide this from everyone? Why did he choose not to treat the illness? Did he refuse help? Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
"Serenity? Hello? Serenity?"
Carlos managed to bring her back to reality. Many questions remained unanswered. And that made her furious. It hurt her.
"Sorry. We'll talk later."
"Okay. If there's any problem, just call."
"Sure."
"Goodbye." He said his goodbyes.
"Goodbye." She mirrored the gesture.
Setting the phone aside, she focused on finishing her meal. The food was getting cold.
But she still didn't understand anything. Why so much secrecy? So many mysteries? Couldn't anyone tell the truth? Who were the men her brother mentioned? What did he do to afford the surgery? And why does she have to be monitored by a nurse all the time?
Sure, she had claudication in her legs, but that didn't turn her into a potato that had to stay on the ground without moving.
She needed someone trustworthy, someone to seek the answers she was looking for-
Fuck, what a stupid doubt.
That detective, he left a card, right?
"Time to make some calls…"
----------------------------------------
"...taking a moment to analyze, there was no record or document reporting autism results," the clinic attendant responded to Brandon.
"Which means the documents were forged..." He thought.
"Thank you. Can I have a copy of the other documents?"
"Of course," the attendant replied, going to print the copies.
BZZZ
Brandon picked up his phone. It was an unknown number. He decided to answer.
"Hello?"
"Detective Davis?" A familiar female voice asked.
"Mrs. Henrique."
"I'll be straight with you. I'm willing to help with your investigation."
"Oh? And how would you do that?" He asked, surprised and confused.
"My family has many connections. I could facilitate your investigation, but I want you to tell me everything you'll find out." Serenity. tried to negotiate.
"It's not something I can simply accept. My job depends on certain factors," Brandon tried to explain.
"Please, don't deny me the truth. Just say yes or no." She interrupted before he could say something about "confidentiality" and "client protection" or some other nonsense.
"...I will consider it. But, not to leave you empty-handed, I can share a suspicion of mine."
"What would that be?" She said with a slight hope.
"The Autism reports never mentioned anything positive."
"Which means...?"
"Daniel was acquitted because the documents said he had mild Autism, so he couldn't be judged as an ordinary person, at least to some extent." Brandon explained, already carrying the copies and leaving the place.
"...But since the documents never reported any level of Autism..." Serenity. followed the line of reasoning.
"It means that the documents presented in court don't exist."
Both sighed in frustration.
"I'll make a call to my superiors, I'll let you know if they accept your terms."
"I have one more condition," Serenity said before the call ended.
"Yeah?"
"I want you to take me along."
"What?" He said as if they had asked the most absurd question possible.
"I want to go with you."
"You were in a fetal position the last time I saw you. Do you really think you should leave the house? Aren't you recovering?" He asked, increasing disbelief with each word.
"I am doing EVERYTHING EXCEPT GETTING BETTER! I am locked up like a prisoner, constantly being watched. The last thing I want is to stay at home. I won't be able to LIVE properly not knowing the truth." Serenity exploded over the phone.
"...Okay. Shall we meet at Human Resources?"
"Sure."
Brandon hung up the phone. A new headache to add to the list. Although it might be a blessing in disguise.
It had been quite challenging so far. Just getting the Case Daniel files was a struggle. So if Serenity could really help him, so be it.
Besides, he doesn't work for the government.
Brandon once asked what he would do if he couldn't obtain information legally.
The company simply replied:
"It doesn't matter how you got the information. What matters is that you have it."
Davis was almost certain that this wasn't allowed by the constitution, but he was getting paid, and he also didn't want to miss the opportunity to not sit around staring at security cameras. Especially in a pizzeria.
"...I have a feeling I referenced something…"
----------------------------------------
Serenity managed to escape the watchful eyes of the attentive nurse. She was in front of the HR building.
The problem was that she couldn't walk. Escaping was already incredibly difficult, as access for people with physical disabilities isn't that common. This was proven by the fact that Serenity, a 25-year-old woman, had to ask (almost beg) passersby to help her descend stairs.
The transportation was the worst part. Taxis? Where to put the wheelchair? A big thing like that? Buses? No way. Private transport? Ride-sharing drivers?
The list of problems kept growing.
She had to thank the heavens that HR was close to her home. The glances and stares directed her way, seeing a woman in a wheelchair alone on the street, were not few.
Frustration and irritation marked her expression.
"Took you damn long, huh?"
A very familiar male voice decided to add the cherry on top.
"Don't. Let's get started." It was the only warning she gave.
After a few seconds of silence, Brandon asked why she was alone. She explained that she couldn't leave the house. Not because of her good condition, but because she couldn't leave at all.
She couldn't go to the cinema, couldn't go to the grocery store, couldn't even visit her brother. She only saw Carlos when he visited her.
The nurse didn't answer any of the questions. Why did she have to stay there? Why couldn't she go out? Why did she have to be watched? Why were her legs like that? And so on.
To reduce suspicions, Brandon took the initiative to push the "princess." That way, no one would think to call the authorities about "a disabled person wandering around." Just confusion and embarrassment.
Entering the establishment, unlike other times, no one attended to them. This was strange for Brandon, but for Serenity, it was quite common. She quickly informed him that to be served, they would have to go directly to the service counter. Brandon found this a bit odd, but being a foreigner, maybe this was more normal.
And maybe the other times were different precisely because of that.
"Good morning," Serenity greeted.
"How can I help?" The attendant responded without taking his eyes off the computer.
"I want Daniel Ashman's work records, if possible."
"Ma'am, these documents are confi-"
The attendant stopped talking when he saw who was asking. Looking at the person accompanying her, proudly displaying an international investigation document, showed that not only a relatively influential person from outside but also someone from within wanted the said documents.
It was quite the pressure.
"Ah, o-of course. This way," the attendant replied, hesitantly.
Following the attendant, it wasn't hard to figure out where the documents were.
Observing more closely, the place had very little security. At most, three guards. Few attendants. Two security cameras... It was something that made Brandon think, as a place like this should at least have more security.
Of course, not Pentagon-level security, but still, there should be much more attention and care than currently presented.
Watching the attendant search for the documents, Brandon noticed there were more documents in the file than he was separating. And even the ones he separated, some went back into the file. Which, for Brandon, was unusual.
Finally, the document was handed over.
"It says here that Daniel got the job through a recommendation," Brandon read the document.
"Yes. The Henrique family has a lot of influence. So, a recommendation from them would be like having a guaranteed position," the attendant added.
"What puzzles me is who made the recommendation."
"What do you mean?" The attendant and Serenity asked.
"Recommendation made by Carlos Henrique. And the dates match a few days after the incident."
"But why would that be suspicious?" Serenity didn't follow the reasoning.
"Theoretically, he should have been in therapy. He almost lost you." Brandon pointed out the obvious.
"That... really makes sense..." Serenity nodded.
"Not just that..."
What do he mean, "not just that"? Was there something else to worry about? What would it be?
"The criminal who had the misfortune of encountering you was killed on the same day." Brandon looked into Serenity's eyes.
"He died? Did the police try to arrest him but it ended up like that?" Serenity asked anxiously.
"It was Daniel who killed him." He said, looking at the attendant.
The attendant, who became increasingly nervous with every word that came out of Brandon's mouth.
And to top it off, Serenity started having a panic attack. Not because Daniel did what he did, but because it was never told to her. Someone covered it up.
Didn't they want it to be found out? Didn't they want something to happen to Daniel? A bigger reason?
Questions upon questions.
Meanwhile, the attendant was already breaking into a cold sweat. Brandon was still looking at the attendant. This impasse was abandoned when Serenity calmed down.
"Who?"
Only silence came from the attendant.
Brandon was already impatient. Grabbing him by the collar and pushing him against the wall, he delivered a solid punch to the stomach.
"You better answer the lady. She doesn't seem to care about your pain right now."
Brandon didn't even need to look at Serenity. Her gaze was one of anger. The same anger he held every day. The anger of injustice. Feelings that hurt. And that she wanted to disappear.
"Okay, okay!"
Brandon kept his hand on the attendant's collar but allowed the other to release him.
"Carlos Henrique, he made a lot of calls, owed favors, both to us and the police. He did everything to keep this mess out of the newspapers, out of reports. But that's all I know!" He made a point to explain letter by letter.
"What do you mean 'to us'? Is someone else involved?" Brandon noticed the comment.
"Uh? W-well..."
"You're talking about Taurus, aren't you?"
The attendant's and Serenity's faces froze. One because he was uncovered, the other because something very bad had been revealed to her.
"You don't have to tell me. Your reaction says it all," Brandon said, releasing his informant.
"Please! Don't say it was me who told!"
"I don't need to. They'll find out."
And with that, Brandon left the room, pushing Serenity along.
----------------------------------------
Brandon stopped at a restaurant. It was becoming quite clear, and a glance at the phone confirmed that it was noon.
Serenity had an unreadable expression on her face, staring into space. Probably still processing the recent discoveries. Brandon could only feel sorry for the woman. She was already physically in a bad state. Her mental state isn't great either, and this investigation is only going to serve to destroy her emotional well-being.
Was it a mistake to bring her along?
"Are you okay?" Brandon asked in genuine concern.
"I... I don't know. Taurus? The Mafia? What would my brother be doing with them?" She said, looking into space.
"It's not easy to say. I mean, speculate," he corrected himself before any misunderstanding. "But I'm not sure yet."
"But what does this have to do with Daniel?"
True. His connection to Taurus is still a mystery. According to the attendant, the police didn't conduct a thorough investigation, leaving the case pending. That's precisely why he was there.
The company dealt with pending cases that police officers, detectives, and investigators didn't want to lose sleep over trying to solve. Brandon was just the lucky one chosen for the task. Still, it was intriguing and, at the same time, strange.
He would be forever grateful for the job change. But that didn't make this investigation any less disturbing.
"Let's review what we've found."
Serenity nodded.
"We know that after the accident, you were hospitalized. The surgery for whatever that was, was quite expensive," Brandon began.
"And even though my family is quite influential, we didn't have the necessary funds to pay." Serenity added.
"Somehow, your brother had contact with Taurus." He stopped there, in case Serenity. felt uncomfortable.
"And he did this to set up a way to get quick money."
Okay, she didn't take offense or feel bothered.
"With the Mafia."
"And Daniel stayed in that job Carlos got him."
"Correct."
...
...
"I have no idea how all of this fits together." Serenity admitted, defeated and frustrated.
"That's if you don't count Terris's bar."
That caught her by surprise.
"What about Terris?"
"I stopped by earlier. The old man asked not to mention him in the report in exchange for information." Brandon defended the good sir.
"And what did he say?"
"Carlos and Daniel showed up there several times, organizing underground fights. The fights were precisely to profit from bets."
"In a way, I'm not surprised..." She said after a brief pause.
"About whom? Carlos or Daniel?"
"Both. Daniel because he would undoubtedly use his fists instead of his head. And my brother would certainly take the shortest and fastest path to make money." Her voice had bitterness and sadness.
"And why do you say that?"
"He was a public defender for a long time. Being paid by the government doesn't give you much security."
Brandon couldn't deny that comment.
"So, he took impossible cases and managed to win?" He curiosity increased.
"Yes. Many of them were convicted or proven criminals. Carlos always found a way to reduce the sentence or acquit the accused." Serenity. said, crossing her arms in irritation.
"He seems to have a lot of charisma."
"Not really. He's just well-versed in the law. His voice is always in the tone of 'a matter of fact' rather than any level of charisma."
If that's the case, Carlos must not be the type to search much before finding. If there's an answer, a solution, and a conclusion, it will be delivered in the shortest time possible. The problem was that the answers, solutions, and conclusions found were not the best.
And apparently, if one answer were found, all others would be disposable. It's not one of the best temperaments to have. Not by a long shot.
"What do we do now?" The girl's question brought him back to reality.
"...You won't like it."
Strange, but it must be possible.
"Tell me."
"You'll think I'm crazy."
Again, strange, but it must be a good solution. A potential one.
"Nothing. Go ahead, tell me."
"It will involve risks."
Still strange, but he's a detective, it surely must be-
"I'm going to talk to the Mob."
"Yes, yes, it must be a good ide- YOU WHAT???!!?!"
Brandon instinctively covered his ears with his palms to protect himself from any auditory damage.
"You can't be serious," said a much calmer woman.
"Better ask for answers from those who can provide them."
"This makes no sense."
"I'll just ask them. It's not like they're going to refuse," Brandon proudly proclaimed.
"They'll kill you."
Brandon didn't hear the protests. He was going to get the information straight from the source. That or tie a knot in a drop of water.
----------------------------------------
The next day.
"You're quite bold to come here," an old tailor responded.
"I know. But I need to finish my job."
Both were sitting in the café above the tailor shop. Brandon was sipping on a lemon juice while the old man enjoyed a grape tart.
"Even though I appreciate your enthusiasm, this information is beyond my authority. I couldn't reveal it even if I wished to," the old man replied, sounding like a professor.
"It may be true, but you're my best lead to solve this case," Brandon insisted.
A man in his 40s was listening to the conversation attentively. He was checking his phone, receiving a rather alarming message. Despite the severity, he remained calm. He put the phone in his pocket and approached the table where the detective was.
"Gentlemen, I believe I can resolve this issue." His voice carried an Italian courtesy.
"Don Angelo."
The old man left the table and kissed the hand of the now named Don Angelo. Then, he left the café. Brandon, glancing from the corner of his eye, noticed that the café staff was looking intently at his table. Some had weapons in hand.
"This is going to be a mess..."
"I must share my companion's comment. You're quite bold to come directly to us to conclude your investigation," the cordial tone never left his voice.
"That's what happens when you spend your whole life looking at security cameras," Brandon said, taking a sip of his juice.
"Don Angelo."
"Brandon Davis."
"Tell me, Mr. Davis, who are you investigating?"
"I'm investigating the Daniel Case. I want to understand exactly what happened leading up to his death," Brandon tried to be as direct and polite as possible.
Angelo casually places a pistol on the table, then takes out a cigarette.
"You don't mind, do you?"
Brandon wasn't sure if he was talking about the cigarette or the gun. Not that it mattered, as Angelo started smoking right after. If he wanted to make him uncomfortable, he succeeded.
"So, Mr. Davis, I presume you're investigating a homicide, right?"
"Yes."
"I can help you in your... quest... if you help me in return." He paused to smoke and exhale the smoke.
Okay... If Brandon understands well, he's going to want a favor that's very difficult to do or something that could put him in jail... Things like that. Mobsters tend to offer you many things with one hand and have a revolver in the other in case you start to overstep.
"What would this favor be?"
"All in due time."
Oh, of course.
"And what if I refuse?"
CHICK CHIK
Brandon didn't even need to look to know that many guns were pointed at his head.
"You're hard to bargain."
"It's one of my trump cards."
"I think, since I'll be 'invited' to help you with whatever it is, I at least deserve to have a slight idea of what this favor should be, right?"
Angelo stared at him for a few brief seconds.
"So I could work at my best, correct?"
Brandon was a patient and calm man. But this situation was really testing how much he could give in. The argument he gave is valid, even for a mobster. Or at least that's what he hopes.
"You have a point."
A single word was enough for the tension (and the guns) to ease.
"Your investigative skills. They will be used later. But for now, ask your questions, and I'll try to answer them."
It could have been worse.
"When did Carlos Henrique contact you, Taurus?"
"Ah, Mr. Henrique. We got to know him when he offered to defend one of our Soldiers in court. I was sure the guy would be arrested, but Henrique managed to absolve our Soldier of almost all charges. We only had to pay bail for damages, nothing that couldn't be recovered." Angelo casually replied, while messing with his phone.
"Do you have a date for this incident?"
"Considering we're heading into fall soon, I think it's been about 2 years. Thanks to his little achievement, I let my family owe him at least one favor."
A favor? That's significant. A favor means you could ask the Mafia boss for ANYTHING, and he would find a way to make it happen. But obviously, this favor was spent, as it wasn't used to heal the sister.
"Was that favor used, right?"
"Yes, it was thanks to us that he got his law firm. Nothing difficult to achieve."
With that settled...
"When did he start contacting you constantly?"
"About 7 months, I believe. He needed money for the obvious incident. He asked us to help cover up the incident. I admire the fact that he took care of most things. We had to move a few resources." Angelo praised.
"Was it just that?" Brandon asked, suspicious.
"No, no. As he needed money for the surgery, we helped him with the underground fight scheme he was trying to set up. We were going to make money together."
So, this confirms that Carlos really organized the fights.
"That and the death of the guy." Angelo said casually.
SKIIIIIIRRRR
"Uh?" Confusion.
"Oh, yes. The Daniel you're investigating."
"What do you mean?" Bigger confusion.
"Carlos was the only person who was always with Daniel. Who do you think would be with Daniel until the end?" Angelo stopped messing with his phone and stared at the café door.
TAAAMMP
"He who lives will always appear."
----------------------------------------
15 minutes earlier.
Carlos made a mistake.
It seems the Aquino Brothers weren't two pretentious idiots. They were the sons of the rival gang leader.
The Áquila Family.
And by Carlos's ignorance, he had poked a bear with a short stick. Both Taurus and Áquila already knew he had almost killed the boys. And who would have thought he'd make this mistake. Defending one of his own, on top of that.
TZIN
Carlos took cover against the wall. The shots narrowly missed him. He tightly held his revolver. He would need a lot of luck if he wanted to escape.
The Áquila Soldiers wore blue and white suits, quite similar to his old lawyer suit.
They were on the other side of the street, reloading their weapons. Carlos took advantage of the moment to run towards the opponents. A revolver has a strong recoil when fired, so the closer he got, the higher the chance of hitting.
Taking cover behind a car, Carlos aimed his gun at one of the shooters. As expected, the revolver's shot made his arm rise to the point of almost making him fall to the ground.
The target of the shot did not have a happy ending. A piece of his skull flew off and hit the wall, leaving a beautiful gray mass as evidence of the senseless violence.
"Damn..." Carlos said, looking at his gun.
He couldn't admire it for any longer, as another barrage of shots was coming. He had to move around the vehicle's cover, as the shots were penetrating the bodywork.
When the shots stopped, Carlos ran towards the last target. With the revolver in hand, he aimed the barrel at the horrified face of the Soldier. A point-blank shot that was much more gruesome than the previous one.
His clothes, the sidewalk, and the wall on which his enemy was hiding were painted red instantly. But Carlos couldn't be shocked; he had to run as soon as possible. He needed help from Angelo.
He elbowed one of the cars on the street, breaking the window. He knew very little about hotwiring, but luckily managed to start it by chance. Engaging the first gear, he stepped on the accelerator, heading straight for Taurinus Cloathin'.
SKIIIIIIRRRR
He didn't care about the car, running towards the tailoring shop. He opened the door almost breaking it, running upstairs.
TAAAMMP
"He who lives will always appear."
----------------------------------------
Point of View: Brandon.
My confusion increased with every word Angelo said. He intentionally left his answers vague to make me question all the time. He also didn't have the decency to look at me while answering. Whatever he was doing on that phone was too important to stop and respond to me fully.
Or so I thought.
The sound of the door being opened made me turn my face almost instantly. There was Carlos Henrique, the main enigma of this case. His clothes were bloodstained, which didn't bode well for me. Literally and figuratively.
"He who lives will always appear," was Angelo's bitter voice.
"Boss... I need—" Carlos began to speak, totally desperate.
Only to be interrupted by Angelo's raised hand.
Carlos might be relatively new to the world of organized crime, but for him to know the complexities and hidden rules showed that it wasn't his first rodeo. That left me increasingly confused.
What is the influence of the Enrique Family due to? What kind of influence do they have to always have someone helping them? And why did this family get involved with the Mafia?
My head starts to hurt just trying to understand.
"You don't need to explain yourself; I already have complete understanding of your actions, Carlos," bitterness in his voice never seemed absent.
I couldn't help but notice how Angelo didn't say "Mister" or use the last name. Apparently, he wasn't happy with whatever Carlos had done.
"S-so..." Carlos tried to speak, only to find no words.
"I've always admired your entrepreneurial vision, Carlos. You truly had innovative ideas for us that we will thank and remember forever. But your mistake was not to inform yourself and act recklessly," Angelo got up from the table, not forgetting to pick up the pistol he left on the table.
I saw that the weapons that could have been used against me by the other café employees no longer saw me as a target.
"You made the same mistake as your father, many years ago," Angelo continued.
Wait... The same mistake? Does that mean the "Enrique Family" was...
Oh, that explains a lot.
But it also leaves other questions in the air... Maybe this "mistake" destroyed the family's reputation, and Carlos tried to recover it? But Serenity never revealed anything about them being mafia...
Maybe I'm much more out of the loop than I'd think.
"You know that this blunder cannot go unpunished."
"I-I know..."
Angelo, without much hurry, pointed the gun at Carlos's face.
"I will show mercy to you, sparing your sister," Angelo declared.
Carlos nodded. His face showed shame, regret, and a slight touch of relief. I still don't know exactly what he should be ashamed of, but I understand his relief.
BANG
"Send the body as an apology to the Áquila. I'll be scheduling a meeting with them to clean up this mess."
"Yes, sir."
And with that, Carlos Henrique no longer existed. I felt a slight pity for the guy. He fought so hard to save his sister, only to not be able to see her healthy. What breaks me is not even that, but how Serenity will react to ANOTHER death.
"I believe you already have the necessary answers, Mr. Davis."
Despite my furrowed brow, I confirm his question with a slight nod.
My job is done, albeit imperfectly. I know what happened, but not the "why." I believe it doesn't matter, as Taurus is already being quite friendly by letting me live.
I leave the café, walking towards the sidewalk.
BZZZ BZZZ
My boss is calling me.
"Hello?"
"What's up? Did you solve the case already?" Impatient as always.
"You conveniently called me when I just did."
"Great. Go to the police station. We'll be waiting for you there."
I hung up the phone, reflecting about this city and the shit that happens here. This is really sad, honestly. I never thought I'd get so emotionally involved and invested in something like this. Then again, it's a murder case, of course I will see stuff that I ain't prepared for.
For now, I will just complete my task. I hope Serenity has a strong mind, because she will need it.