The whole night, Brendan had lain awake on his bed, turning from one side to the other like the bed was on fire. For someone with a pretty face, the Finch was really heartless. How could one even think of exterminating an entire race? And what if she finally had her vision and she accepted the Versatile gene? The fate of the human race would definitely be doomed.
He kept stirring in his bed, trying to shake these thoughts from his head.
*
As soon as he caught a glimpse of the sun, he got up hoping he would leave these thoughts under the bedcovers. They followed him from the moment he woke up however, then he decided to try to wash them out with a shower.
As soon as he turned the shower on, the nightmare returned; it was Jack Price's brutal and antagonizing telepathy. This time his ears did not hesitate to bleed. Blood was pouring from them the way water pours from a damaged tap. The sound and pain were blurring his vision. He had no choice but to give in. He pulled his legs back to the bedroom and took his costume: his gloves, his mask, his leather jacket, his black running shoes and his skinny jeans from under the bed and he put them on. Although the pain was wearing him down, he succeeded in putting everything on. He had decided to leave the boots out of his costume because they were too big and looked, to him, ridiculous.
He used his super speed to get out of the house and luckily, it was still five o'clock and Miriam was still asleep.
When he got to the abandoned warehouse, the sound and pain stopped. He rubbed the blood from his ears and he stood rooted to the spot by the entrance, his head checking in every direction for Jack Price, then he finally saw him. His ghostly figure made him look almost invisible on the truss. Mr. Sparrow was kneeling in front of him. Brendan did not know the emotions on Mr. Sparrow's face since he was facing Jack but his guess was panic and fear were the major emotions he felt.
'Glad you came again,' Jack said, giving Brendan a disgusting smirk.
'Did I actually have a choice?' he said, pointing at one of his ears. 'What is it that you want from me now?'
'I want you to witness this man's death and I want you to blame yourself for the rest of your life.'
Brendan's muscles grew numb, 'You don't have to do this…just because you sold…'
'My soul..?' he picked up the statement, 'I'm not doing this because I sold my soul to the Finch, but because I want to. And as for you…The police are almost here to arrest you. I gave them an "Anonymous" tip-off that you are currently here,' he chuckled.
Brendan had never felt so hopeless. Mr. Sparrow was right there above him, on the truss, but there was nothing Brendan could do without triggering Jack Price into doing something unpredictable.
'Come on, we could at least talk this over,' Brendan tried to appeal to Jack's humanity, if there was any of it still left. The man looked no different to a corpse; his skin a pale grey and his long hair as white as snow, his eyes chasmic, dark and hollow and exhibiting nothing but pure evil and malignity.
With a tone of impatience, and intolerance, Jack replied, 'You're no good at being a hero so I'm giving you this assignment; prove to me that you're the Supreme that prophecy says you are. Prove to me that you are not just Brendan Payne but the Anonymous, Marauder: Death's Assassin. I'm tired of us doing this back and forth, "I'm stronger than you", nonsense. But for now…Shut up and watch!' He plunged his hand into the left side of Mr. Sparrow's chest and it went right through, like he was simply dipping his hand in water.
Brendan saw the most horrific thing anyone could ever witness. Jack Price had pulled out Mr. Sparrow's heart and he held it firmly in his hand!
Brendan dropped to his knees and bowed his head, tears peeking from his eyes. Something fell with a heavy bang in front of him. It was Mr. Sparrow's body, lifeless, lying there a few inches from him. There had been no scream, no cry for help. Brendan looked up to see Jack Price, but he had vanished.
'We've got you surrounded, Anonymous!' The police had arrived. 'Stand up and turn around, slowly!'
Brendan kept his knees rooted to the ground for a moment. Mr. Sparrow, one of his teachers lay there dead. But what could he have even done? He did what Howard had always told him to do when facing conflict; try to reason. But this had been a case no amount of reasoning could have handled.
He slowly stood up, a weight of guilt and sorrow weighing him down.
'Good!' The officer shouted, genuinely glad that he was cooperating, but his fear was hard to conceal. The voice was clearly male but quickly acquired a higher pitch, 'Now… turn around, sloooowly!'
Brendan began to turn his head slowly but his head had not moved more than an inch when he heard…
'He blinked!!' Gunshots began firing at him.
He zoomed using his enhanced speed up the walls of the warehouse and broke through the ceiling, then he ran down the wall outside and out of sight, leaving the police stunned.
When he got home he ran upstairs and swiftly got ready for school. Because he had not only been overwhelmed but completely stupefied by what he had seen, he did not think about having breakfast. Miriam kept pushing him to eat but he would sway in another direction of the house, pretending he had forgotten something else.
Todd arrived at exactly seven o'clock with his black convertible. 'Sir..?' Todd beckoned at the opened door of the car.
'Let's go,' Brendan responded marching towards the open door whilst wrestling his backpack straps onto his shoulders.
Both left Miriam with a tray of unattended food in her hands.