"You may enter," Raphael said, and the next second, the doors opened halfway. An old man walked slowly into the room, aged eyes gazing at the heads of the Abyssal Gang.
"Gordon? What are you doing here?" Raphael asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is the loneliness finally too much to bear? Well, I shouldn't be surprised. You've been cooped up in that room for years. That much time of solitude would drive anyone mad. Come on, why don't you have a seat and drink with us? It might help clear your mind of things."
"I'll have to decline your offer," Gordon replied, arriving at an empty seat at the table. "I just want to spend some time with you guys. I hope that won't be a problem?"
Raphael was stupified by his father's response. Eventually though, he shrugged, his attention returning back to the conversation he was having prior.
"Anyways, like I was saying. Darion, you truly have a gift for abusing women. Who knows? Maybe you might do someone worse to your next love. A couple fingers to you might not seem like much of a price to pay to be tied down," Raphael joked, whisking his glass in the air.
"As I said, the situation was circumstantial," Darion's gaze trailed the window as he continued, his voice crackling with guilt. "Well… most of it was."
"Haha! You see my point now, don't ya?" Raphael retorted. "Maybe they should start calling you Darion The Vile. It suits you a lot better."
"He's right, Darion. Compared to the rest of us, you're the true monster," Jay commented, sipping greedily from his glass.
"Come on, guys. Can't we change the subject?" Darion later asked, his gaze averted from both their faces. Their laugher came soon after, Raphael nearly choking on his drink as he hurriedly gulped it down.
"My, oh my, you really something, Darion. You're the one who brought up the topic, but now you're asking us to switch? Make up your mind already," Raphael asked, the smile tugging at his lips as he failed to withhold his laughter.
"I don't have any love interests, so you guys can rule me out," Jay sudden said, scratching his chin. "Unless you have someone your eying. Come on, brother. Don't leave us in the dark."
"Me? Come on, Jay. You can't be serious. The time you see me chasing after a woman is when light shines in this treacherous Empire," Raphael replied, waving his hand dismissively. "That, or I've truly lost my senses. Settling down isn't to my taste. Fortunately for me, I have you guys. If something happens to me some time later, I can gladly hand over this gang to your legacies. As for me, my lineage ends here."
Gordon coughed at the end of Raphael's statement, catching him by surprise.
"Do you have anything to say?" Raphael asked, turning his head in Gordon's direction.
"Not really. I was just clearing my throat," Gordon replied, portraying an image of transparency.
Raphael eyed him for a brief moment, then turned away once again. Meanwhile, Gordon let out a quiet sigh as he returned to his private thoughts.
'Your lineage ends with you? Hmph, speaking like you have a choice in the matter,' Gordon murmured internally. 'If only you weren't so damned powerful, I would've given you the beating of your life for spouting such nonsense.'
Their conversations stretched on for hours. This was one of those times when the brothers came together and conversed like a family. A deranged one, but a family nonetheless.
Seeing his children interact so happily with each other, it warmed his heart. At least for a short period, they could all let the scars of the past rest in oblivion as they shared precious memories. Just like they used to.
________
The air reeked of blood.
Kennedy had returned to the enclosure, carrying his son's unconscious body within his hands. Stepping into the decrepit space, he pushed past old belongings, creating enough space to lay his son against the floor. Right after, he hurriedly went about cleaning whatever trail of blood had been created, before returning to his son's side with a worried expression.
"Just look at yourself now," Kennedy said, tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. "I warned you, didn't I? I told you not to go down this path. I said it would lead to nothing but doom, yet you refused to listen to me. You were far too concerned with avenging your mother's death, that you were willing to throw your own life away. Now just take a good look at yourself. You've gone ahead and gotten yourself branded by that wretched gang. For as long as you live, that mark will remain with you.
"Is this what you wanted, son? Did you wish to sell yourself to the very people you aimed to kill?" Kennedy continued, wiping his tears with his sleeve. "Still, no matter what, I promised your mother that I will always be there to protect you. I won't let death claim you, not while I'm still alive," silence dominated right after, the weight of his words hanging in the air with the foul stench.
Kennedy did whatever he could to stop the bleeding. He wasn't a doctor, and the resources he had at his disposal were laughable, at best. Yet, he worked with what he had, praying to the Supreme Sovereign to perform a miracle.
...…
Eventually, it was time for him to head back to work, meaning that he would have to leave Ezekiel at home since he was still unconscious. After checking up on his condition, he went off, even preparing a meal for him in case he woke up while he was out.
'That boy… I'm not sure if he told me everything about that power of his, but one thing I can bet on is his healing power. Unless the damage he took from the Abyssal Gang was that severe, he should be able to restore himself soon enough. I hope,' Kennedy thought, walking across the tenebrous streets on his way to th carpentry shop. 'Once he wakes up, I'll try again to convince him to leave this life behind, if it's not already too late, that is. The Abyssal Gang already has their eyes set on him. I'm certain they wouldn't let him back out just like that.
'Now, Ezekiel would simply have to achieve his objective, whether he actually can or not. That's the only way he can gain his freedom back,' Kennedy's thoughts trailer off as he turned a corner. The familiar building was finally in sight, the noise of carpenters working tirelessly radiating from such a distance.
Kennedy heaved out a sigh as he made it to the front entrance, stepping in to find others already hard at work. He swiftly arrived at his workstation and began the necessary tasks, moving tools and wooden fragments with necessary skill and precision. Hours came and past, and it was finally the end of service. The workers checked out after collecting their payments from the boss, and Kennedy did so, as well.
His gaze lingered on the others as they chatted with each other on their way out. Many had formed long relationships with each other, sharing their experiences as a means to ease the burden. Kennedy also had his own clique of friends, but they didn't speak much often. He'd most often spend time with his son when they still worked together, but now, he considered getting closer with those he was more familiar with.
His steps diverted, and he found himself walking towards Ron, one of the workers he was close with at the shop. However, he soon stopped himself, remembering that he had left Ezekiel in his condition at home. Shame doned him like a shroud as he continued his journey back to the enclosure, his movements rushed as he maneuvered past vampires in his way.
The shadow-bound creatures appeared and disappeared within his vision, as well. The wretched odour of death and decay wafted through his nose along the sharp wind, crinkling his nostrils as he pushed forward. The citizens of Fluxton bickered and exchanged blows in response to petty disagreements, abstaining their hands and nails with the blood of their neighbors. Kennedy ignored them all as he headed back home, hoping his son was finally awake.
Soon, he finally arrived back at the shabby enclosure, pushing the door open and stepping inside. His gaze lingered on the mess of a living space, before spotting his son lying just the way he had left him hours prior.
His heart sank, but he did his best to cheer himself up.
Kennedy slowly walked to his son's side, falling this knees as he cried. Worst case scenarios flashed in his mind, but he forced himself to push those thoughts away. His surroundings seemed to blur as he gasped for oxygen, feeling his heart ache as his eyes squinted shut. Within the darkness, he saw a pale, delicate hand reached out, aiming to grab something, only to fail miserablely. A smooth, melodious voice followed, making his body tremble.
'Kennedy, my love, don't cry. You know I can't stand to see you like this.'
"But then, what do you expect me to do? Look at our son's condition. What else can I do in my situation?" He asked, but there was no answer. He clenched his jaws, veins building through his forehead as he struck the ground with his fist.
At his old age, such an action deeply rattled him, cracking his bones and even puncturing his skin. Yet he didn't mind. His eyes flickered with the memory of his son from the past, playing in the dirt, only to find himself stumbling into a group of bullies on the streets. That time, he received the beating of his life, and Kennedy had only arrived at the end of it all to whisk his son away. The same thing happened again, only far worse.