Shay realized she was holding onto Rook’s waist.

She pulled away immediately, feeling icky.

But...

Something was on her hands.

Dark... and wet?

She dropped her gardening shears and held her hands up to the light.

Red.

Blood.

Fear.

Self-loathing.

She looked up to meet Rook’s gaze.

“Ain’t nothin’ don’t bother me,” he said. “How ‘bout you? You hurtin’ anywhere?”

----------------------------------------

On the other side of the building, Tyvan loaded a new magazine into his pistol as a precautionary measure. He stowed the half-empty one in his inner coat pocket.

Bishop emerged from the opposite side of the door. He’d successfully executed an artful and alacritous flanking manoeuvre.

“I got the three. They didn’t see me coming!”

Tyvan nodded in response, “Sweep the area. There may be stragglers still trapped in the formation.”

He turned back to the fallen Kuen Luo.

His coat was scuffed and torn. He writhed in pain, twitching and seizing. He struggled to breathe, taking quick short gasps in a vain attempt to live longer than a few more moments.

He coughed up blood-- a rather droll notion, considering such was not a symptom of the poison.

The unannounced inspection of the Arrow Group was objectively a mere business affair. Nonetheless, the judgement and execution occurring thereafter served to assuage Tyvan’s wounded pride.

It was natural and justifiable for arrogance and obstinacy to lead to severe and agonising internal injuries.

“Mister Luo,” Tyvan smiled. “Perhaps you should use one of your prized pills? I surmise they also have a regenerative effect.”

Luo regained clarity in his swollen red eyes, just long enough to say, “Fffuck you.”

Hmph.

Unprofessional.

Tyvan took aim.

Two shots.

One in the head. Another in the heart.

He took careful analysis of the resulting silence.

Luo was dead. The fighting had ended in the immediate vicinity.

Bishop and his sister were in the process of sweeping the perimeter.

All observed was well-- with one factor yet unresolved.

Tyvan crossed the floor, toward his last sighting of Yan Xue.

“Rook!”

Rook sauntered out of a back door, readjusting his iconic cowboy hat. His gait was awkward and strained.

“Boss,” he said, nodding casually. He reeked of blood.

“You’re injured,” Tyvan said.

Just as Rook began to sway, Tyvan stepped aside and toppled a ruined metal box to serve as a seat.

Rook sat down, set aside his hat, and groaned in pain.

“Boss, I... I ain’t never been shot before. This... ergh... hurts like--”

“Be silent,” Tyvan ordered. “Focus on your breathing.”

He walked around to examine Rook’s back. He’d taken small arms fire to his right lower side.

It was a purposeful oversight. The enchantments on Rook’s clothing were reinforced on his front, leaving him more susceptible to attacks from behind.

Rook had a body more resilient than most. The regenerative ability of his bloodline would return him to combat readiness in five to ten business days. Still, it was best practice on the field to treat all injuries with gravitas.

Tyvan pressed his hand on the affected area, eliciting a bodily twitch and a low grunt.

“We have a ⌈Proverb Concerning Pain.⌋”

“Hells,” Rook cursed... “Pain is weakness... ergh... leaving the body. Rah.”

It was a minor spell that worked to catalyse a target’s convalescence. However, Tyvan was generally loathe to cast it, considering the cruelty of its aftereffects.

He lifted Rook’s shirt, observing the closing wound to ensure it was healing properly. The bullet chunk had mostly extracted itself, so he thumbed it out. He imagined it would have been mildly uncomfortable otherwise.

Throughout the process, Rook kept himself obediently still. But once Tyvan stepped away, he crouched over, holding his belly.

“Shit... It feels like I haven’t eaten in a gods-damned week. Is that... the price?”

“It is,” Tyvan said with a sympathetic smile.

He patted Rook affably on the shoulder, “Briar Rose keeps snacks in her dashboard compartment, but remain mindful. Your injury--”

“I heard my name, Boss?”

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Briar Rose appeared in a puff of smoke. She was dragging along something filthy and twice-broken.

“Mister Jurić is on the way with his cleaners. But what should we do with this guy?”

She dropped it on the ground, its head bouncing on the cement.

Tyvan looked down at the broken boy, finally recognising him as the would-be hero who challenged him with the pipe. Nothing like the heroes of his past. Whoever he was, he was naught but a disappointment.

Briar Rose continued her explanation.

“PC told me that Rookie ran this kid over at the start of the... Hey, you okay, dude?”

Rook-- that blundering idiot was on his feet, crossing his arms and nodding vigorously despite his condition. Sweat poured down his reddened face as if he was suffering heat stroke.

“Psh, what?” he said, “Yeah! I’m good, pinface! Got a problem or sump’n?”

Tyvan waved his arm, “Briar Rose, toss the boy somewhere appropriate.”

He gestured at the door aside. “And take Yan Xue with you.”

Briar Rose pursed her lips and nodded, “Got it, Boss. I guess I’ll drop this thing in a dumpster somewhere?”

She scowled at Rook before she picked up the body and walked off, poofing into smoke as she was wont to do.

Rook immediately grabbed onto Tyvan’s lapel, “Boss, it hurts so much~”

Tyvan shook him off and sat him back down, “Sit down and rest. The healing tonics back at Elysium will both aid your recovery and alleviate the pain.”

“Boss,” Rook clenched his eyes tight, “Tell my wife-- nnergh... I love her.”

“Tell her yourself.”

----------------------------------------

After a final sweep of the area, Tyvan returned to the gravel parking lot with Yan Xue’s discarded bag in hand.

He had questions. He was not looking forward to the answers.

She sat in the back seat of Briar Rose’s Gallivanter, the serene image reminiscent of when he drove her to the bus stop the first sun they met.

He shook his head.

He had to keep his emotions separate from the observable facts.

Tyvan opened the door and dragged her out by her wrist.

“Ow! Oww! Tyvan!”

He turned back, staring into her wide, fearful eyes. “Explain yourself, Yan Xue.”

“Tyvan,” she cried, “I... I--”

She was clutching a pair of gardening shears. Was that supposed to be a defensive weapon? The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.

No-- it only frustrated him more. He lifted her stained hand, shoving it toward her face.

“The blood on your hands,” he said, gritting his teeth, “You are the cause.”

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” Yan Xue sobbed, “Is he...”

“Tell me why you are here,” Tyvan interrupted.

The girl swallowed heavily.

She opened her mouth to speak... and quickly closed it again.

“Respond,” he demanded.

Yet still, she refused.

“Then perhaps this might remind you.” From her bag, Tyvan produced a small black tube. Its weight, its rattle-- it was a roll of camera film. “Is this what you came here for?”

The infuriating child slowly nodded her head.

“So your presence here,” Tyvan sighed... “it was premeditated.”

He leaned in toward her, taking in the scent of her anxieties... her fear. It was so intoxicating, he had to shove her away to avoid wrapping his hands around her frail, human throat.

He took another breath to calm himself. It did nothing.

“Tell me, Yan Xue,” he said quietly. “What. kind. of inane. reckless. logic were you following?”

Again, she did not respond. She clutched her scissors to her chest like she was protecting a child from a storm.

“You acted on your own,” he said. “Did you even think to tell anyone your plans? Your location?”

“You... you said you’d be gone,” Yan Xue said, her voice weak and uncertain.

“You could have told anyone.”

He tempered himself before continuing. His emotions were affecting his bearing. “Briar Rose-- she was still at the office. You could have told Yeonha. You could have told Heidi and she would have found a way to send word to me.”

He took a deep, haltered breath... “My people are professionals. Accountability is one of our most important tenets--”

“--but I just wanted to help!” Yan Xue shouted.

Tyvan clenched and released his gloved fists.

He shook his head... and he spoke softer than before.

“What sort of help could you possibly offer? You’re only human.”

“I-- I know,” Yan Xue sniffed. “But... but I...”

“You... useless child,” Tyvan whispered, “Because of you, one of my people took a bullet.”

Tears.

Inconsolable, ever-flowing tears.

Tyvan had his answers. Any more questions would be useless.

He... cared for Yan Xue. He wanted to protect her.

But her actions were unacceptable.

Yet ultimately...

--her presence at the construction site... he was just as much as fault.

Why did he allow his heart to be moved by her struggles?

He should have never hired her to work at Elysium.

What benefits did his selfish sense of morality bring him?

He should have left her in that alley.

No.

He should have killed her.

That she lived and breathed was a testament to his impotence.

He found himself reaching for her soft, fleshy throat, fully prepared to end her miserable existence.

He stopped himself. It was supremely difficult, such was the haze brought about by the scent of her weakness.

Her fear... her despair...

Her life.

He could take it all away.

It would be a mercy.

...Instead, he snatched away her beloved shears.

She reached forward with a panicked expression, a pathetic attempt to defy him.

Tyvan kept her at bay.

He crushed the tool with one hand, snapping the metal in two-- then three and four pieces before hurling it away.

“Don’t come into work tomorrow,” he said. He turned his back and began walking away. “Briar Rose! Take her home.”