It can be. It's impossible. How can he be here? I watched them bury him—a fake, probably. No, the voice is just like him—it is him, that trembling hand, the back-and-forth movement. I knew it was from somewhere, but how?
Vilex thought, his face still looked starstruck.
Cecil stared at him carrying a crooked smile, he said to him. "It's been a while, hasn't it, friend? You miss me."
Vilex opened his mouth, voicing out the words he had thought. "How is it possible? How are you alive, Cecil?"
A slight chuckle escaped Cecil as he responded. "Cecil, well, call me that if you want, but I already have a new name, a name given to me by the boss; it's Skull.
"Skull, what sort of bullshit is this, Dickens? If you think you'd use my dead friend to play tricks, it won't work, so cut the act." Vilex yelled, his face formed a frown. He took an arrow out of his quiver, stretched it into the bow, and got ready to let it fly.
Cecil tightened his hands; his face looked so bland that once the smirking look left him, he had no expressions on his face, just eyes lasered at Vilex, he said. "Timothy, you were one of my close friends, and likewise, I was your close friend. You're finding it hard to believe, right? Well, it's you, but that crooked smile appeared once again. But the thing is, I never actually died; it's the other way around. Dickens is the one who's dead."
The once-raised bow and arrow dropped; disbelief etched on his face, he asked a question. "For how long have you been with them, and how come I don't know you're a superhuman?"
Cecil answered. "Just that, okay? You do need answers; I'll give you answers. I met the boss three years ago around the time I awakened. He explained his plans. At first I didn't accept, but later I realized this city needs cleansing."
"Cleansing? You mean killing millions? Why, Cecil?"
Cecil responded. "Why? Why? Because, Timothy... I love you, and I care about you. I want to ease your burden I know how much you've lost. I know decisions you've made just to keep this city safe, so if we drop the population, you won't have to worry about unnecessary matters. Join us, Tim; join me."
Timothy grimaced, his face tightening in disbelief and disgust, and he voiced. "Huh, love me? You call this love—this is madness. I'd never. His breathing was heavy—every pant followed a loud beat of his heart. increased in speed. He couldn't speak; his mind had been overloaded with so many things."
"You're overexerting yourself—which you don't have to. Let's go home; Mom and Dad will be waiting for us." Cecil said.
Words finally came out of Timothy's mouth. "You think they'd just accept you? They watched you go six feet under; they can't be childishly sick and accept a once-dead child."
"Don't worry about that; Mom and Dad know I'm not dead. They had to put up an act to cover this whole situation." He stretched forth his right hand, smiling. Come, Timothy, let's go home together."
His heart broke as those words left Cecil's mouth; he felt as though he should cry, but the tears couldn't drop, and his mind was racing with thoughts.
So they know about all this, and James asked me to find and kill the perpetrator. It was just a lie—an act. Then what have I been blaming myself for? What have I been fighting for?
He sought words to speak, but his cracked voice toned it down—though audible for Cecil to hear. "Don't think you'd leave because I won't let you."
"Oh, you definitely will," Cecil shot back. "You know you're one of the smartest guys I know and at the same time one of the dumbest." His hands slowly turned red; he was fast, but Timothy's ever-sharp response was dull; to move was hard; his mind had been overcrowded. Cecil's glowing palm slammed into Timothy's abdomen—igniting with a burst that hurled him against the wall.
The torched body of Timothy was on the floor, sitting and resting his back against the wall; his breathing wasn't back to normal, it was still heavy with the same panting and heartbeat rhythm.
Cecil stood across from him, face squeezed. "He was displeased," he barked. "Mom was right. Thank God I didn't let you know about the powers. I'd be cowering behind you, holding on to those irrational words of protecting the city."
He moved about waiting for Timothy to get back up to his feet; eventually Timothy did but he did Cecil lunged at him, throwing punches at the temporarily brain-dead Timothy, giving him no chance to think about blocking the attacks from Cecil. From The punch to gut to the Jaw to the face, the final one hit Timothy bringing him to the floor rolling.
He yelled at Timothy. "All my life I've spent it being in your shadow, being your support, days whereby you'd look at me as this weak, heavy-load friend, days where you'd cry to me about the burdens you carry and I'd comfort you."
"I awakened, and my first thought was coming to you, but someone else got to me, opened my eyes, cleared my ears, revolutionized my reasoning, showed me the corrupt system of this world, and showed me the never-ending cruelty that we at the bottom have to face and what we have to bear. I won't sit for that. He brought change to me; I was stupid at first, but I accepted it later when I understood that this city itself is the pinnacle of corruption."
Timothy weakly said. "You think I don't know that."
Cecil snapped, pointing his fingers at him fiercely, yelling at the top of his voice. "You don't know that you don't. This city claims it has low crime, but do you know why that is, why the crime is low? It's because of what they've done in the past, the lives they've ended for the World Government. You and your ego want to play dress-up for a city that needs destruction. We are going to serve this corrupt land."
As Cecil spoke, Timothy could only think, not speak out:
Ego, my ego I'm doing this because I want to give back to the people I've wronged. You and the others are the reasons I have been holding on to the little bit of humanity left in me, but you also have turned your back on me. I have no choice but to hurt you.
Cecil crouched, eyes fixed at the resting body of Timothy, he said. "We, the Retribution, are going to give punishment to Ultra City, but I won't let you witness the apocalypse that will befall your beloved home."
He got up, turning away from Timothy. Before he walked away, he looked at him with a side eye. After the glance, he fully turned and shouted. "Shotgun."
From a rooftop, an individual lying on it with a rifle in his hand replied softly. "You didn't have to tell me; I can see my target." He cocked the gun and fired.
Cecil left the area as he walked, he said. "Goodbye, old friend."