Chapter 26 A New Life

A day later, the team were still present in the mine. They were being watched and monitored and were available to offer any information on the Headhunt. In an army-type tent, the Ill-Favoured Five without their fifth, were discussing the events. Boseman had not been seen since nor Trust.

“Think of the bonus,” Spike mused, lying on a camp cot with a cigarette pursued between his lips and leg dangling off.

“We didn’t get the item,” Pointy replied, polishing his bow carefully due to his injuries. “I do not have any idea how it vanished. I didn’t see a teleportation pad down there, and the only one with the magic to do it would be Trust. Even then, that amount of power would kill her.”

“Job’s done,” Goliath sighed. “That prick is dead.”

“I wonder if I’ll become famous,” Spike mused to himself. “The handsome bard strikes again.”

“You’ll be pleased to know seventeen million people watched the Headhunt,” Pointy remarked, checking his phone, then seeing dozens of messages from June.

‘Hi, Quinn, are you watching the news?’

‘By the way, have you spoken to my brother recently? It’s not like him to disappear without telling us.’

‘Please get back to me.’

‘Quintin?’

“Shucks,” he muttered.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of an electric motor outside. The tent door was pulled open by a Fodder and a crippled Mercy entered in a state-of-the-art wheelchair. A mist veiled his face, but it wasn’t as dark as before. Even the powerful Elder’s demeanour had changed.

“Sick rims, sir,” Spike complimented, getting up to attention.

Mercy ignored the comment and parked himself before the team. “Sit, all of you,” he ordered.

Goliath slumped down on a camp cot, his enormous frame almost breaking it.

“There is something I need to tell you. It is unfortunate this day has come,” Mercy told them, his tone holding sincerity.

“What about, sir?” Goliath questioned, leaning forward.

“It is about Roach … He will not be coming back.”

“Pardon?” Pointy questioned in disbelief. “He’s going to come back. They’re still mining down to him.”

“I’m afraid not, Pointy,” Mercy sighed. “As you know, Roach has tattoos covering him, yes? He had made a deal with someone—a kill list for that power. Akira Weslen was the last person on that list. I do not want to get into specifics, but as I said, Roach will not be coming back.”

“Bastard,” Goliath muttered, realising he had been lied to.

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“So he’s … dead?” Spike asked, scrunching his face.

Mercy regrettably nodded. “Believe me, I tried to talk him out of it. I tried desperately. And he didn’t want any of you to know about this while he was still here. He did, however, arrange this conversation,” Mercy said.

“Shit,” Goliath murmured, scratching his scalp. “That’s why he was so angry. I didn’t even say goodbye.”

“Roach was not happy here,” Mercy went on. “I hope you don’t bear any ill will towards me for not telling you. It was his request for me to tell you after—he respects every one of you. As much as he kept to himself, you were his family.”

Mute turned away from everyone while Pointy stared into the tent canopy with confusion; Roach wouldn’t leave his sisters—they meant the world to him. “It doesn’t make sense,” he muttered, pushing his glasses up his face. “Roach wouldn’t just leave—”

“He’s gone, Pointy,” Mercy interrupted.

“He’s just gone, like that? Fucked off without saying anything!” Spike protested, getting up and wailing his hands. “We haven’t even reached the fucking cave he’s—”

“Spike,” Goliath grunted. “Sit down, now is not the time to be angry.”

Spike reluctantly fell onto the bed, placing the cigarette back in his mouth and sparking it up with an electric lighter. He took a quick puff and said, “So much for the man who can’t die.”

“Who did he make the deal with?” Pointy questioned. “What could produce such a unique power?”

Mercy opened his mouth but refrained from replying; it was a secret. “I apologise.”

Pointy sighed in disbelief, resting the back of his palm on his forehead.

“He has left something he wrote for me, a will of sorts that he wanted me to read to all of you,” Mercy explained to them, fetching a worn notebook from his cloak. Flicking open the cover, Mercy pulled out a piece of parchment paper. He cleared his throat:

“I don’t know when I’m going to leave, but I want you all to know, this is what I wanted. I’m not for the land of the living. I’m sorry for lying to you all, but I didn’t want any of you to stop me. As this is being read out by Mercy, you should know who I am. If you still hold me in high regards, there are also people that I want you to look after. My real name is—”

Suddenly, a Fodder burst into the tent.

“What is it?” Mercy angrily questioned, folding the paper over and turning around in his wheelchair. “Speak!”

The Fodder was speechless. How could they explain this?

“You said he was gone!” Goliath told Mercy, storming down a long cave with hanging lights.

“His list is finished!” Mercy snapped back, his wheelchair whirring after them. “Akira Weslen was the last!”

The Ill-Favoured Five emerged into the cave where the final battle was fought. The ground was littered with crushed bones and very little remained of the machine. There was no hint of the item they were requested to retrieve. However, Akira Weslen’s body was still intact and black blood covered it.

Sitting down in the centre of the room was Roach, alive. He looked different. The skull on his back had changed from a soulless expression to a helpless one with snakes slithering out of its orifices. The man slowly got up and stretched, mist present on his face. The Unwanted around him didn’t move or speak—not even the Elders present dared to.

“Roach,” Goliath called to him, sympathetically.

Roach extended his neck upwards and breathed in. He was back in the land of the living. He still felt dead. But there were unknown thoughts in his head now; they weren’t thoughts, but feelings—emotions; love, longing, excitement—his soul had been restored. It wasn’t what we wanted. He wanted his end.

“Roach,” Goliath repeated himself, his tone guarded.

Roach looked over his shoulder, his body swivelling soon after. Without saying anything, he strode past Goliath and stopped before Mercy, not even bothering to meet the man’s eyes under his mist. He pinched his face and a white handkerchief fell into his palm. “Thank you,” Roach dismissed, dropping it onto Mercy’s lap.

Mercy looked away.

“Roach!” Goliath yelled but was still ignored.

As he walked away, all eyes focused on his back. The snakes, they were moving.