“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you now and call it a day?”

Maxwell didn’t reply, only begin to pound on Brock’s plated arm with vigour as he was slowly choked ever closer to death. He doubted that the man would have been able to speak even if he wanted to, though it didn’t really matter. It was meant to be a rhetorical question anyway.

Flames of disgust lay raging in Brock’s eyes as he met the older man’s own. They carried defiance, and insanity, and even… indignance. Righteous indignance. Brock had to forcefully restrain his hand from clenching shut and ending the man’s life instantly. He was confident he could. The body of the man in his grasp felt frail, like someone who hadn’t invested much into their Constitution.

Fortunately, Adam stepped in to save his pathetic ass, “…Please. Just let him go. He may come off as… wrong, but he indeed does what he can to better humanity. He’s really trying to help…”

The diplomat’s voice trailed off at the end, like he was trying to make himself believe his words as much as he was trying to make Brock. In the end, they locked eyes, and the office worker saw a firm resolve steeled within. They held the gaze for a few tense seconds, and finally, Brock let up, clicking his tongue loudly.

“Fine.” Without care, he threw the convulsing body of Maxwell to the floor as he frantically gasped for air.

Adam rushed to the barely conscious man’s side and helped him up, “Thank you… I… promise you won’t regret this.”

We’ll see about that. I’ve seen plenty of movies mate.

Brock chose not to respond verbally and instead made his way straight to the elevator. Frowning deeply, he pressed the button that would lead him downwards, and with a ding, the doors started to slide shut. As the gap began to close, he saw Maxwell look straight at him, an expression of profound confusion donned across his face.

Along with excitement.

“That fire in you… it will serve you well, Mr Carter. If only you were more like me.” Then the doors clasped shut and left the man in question once more bathed in silence. He gritted his teeth and slammed a fist into the metal wall of the elevator. It found itself dented.

He couldn’t help but feel he made the wrong decision by leaving that man alive. Adam seemed trustworthy, and at least bound by morals. Probably, he would have made a far better leader in place of the current one. But, in the end, he wasn’t the law, and it wasn’t his place to get into matters involving other people and their problems.

Sometimes, what you thought was best turned out to result in the worst.

That was something he knew he’d have to learn to remember as his power grew. Just because he has strength, doesn’t mean what he does is right, and it never will. It was a fact applies to him and every being out there. Of course, good and evil were rather subjective values, but the core of the point still stood.

Eight minutes later, Brock reached the bottom of the Eiffel Tower and stepped back out into the bounds of the city. Immediately, the guards glanced his way, their hands inching nervously toward their weapons, probably having felt the tremors of anger in his aura or even his use of an Augment.

“What the hell happened up there?” one asked, his voice gruff but his face forgettable. Like an extra in a movie. He tried to put on a façade of toughness, but it really wasn’t working for him at this current juncture.

Brock just pushed past him and shrugged, “Saw a magpie. Whoops.”

He was almost certain that they looked to each other and seriously considered if the bird could be found in France now. Either way, he really didn’t care and used however much Agility he now had to explode through the city in a blur of crusted blood and scrapped clothing. He headed straight for where he had seen the health care workers drive toward.

It was a bit of a confusing trip, but he soon found the place, a structure that was a bit discoloured and covered with various haphazard repairs. Cocking a brow, Brock entered the bottom of the building and instantly, he was met with the familiar sanitised scent of a hospital. It tickled his nostrils, and he even managed to pick out a few new aspects to smell he hadn’t noticed before, thanks to his enhanced perception.

It didn’t make the smell any less terrible, however.

A lady in dull green clothing was sitting behind a counter, typing away on a surprisingly functional computer, looking oddly invested in whatever she was doing. To her left was the hallway further into the hospital and to her right was the doors to the ER. Directly to Brock’s left was a small side room, probably the waiting room considering the various people sitting inside, all nursing bad, albeit non-threatening, wounds.

Raising his brows at the normalcy with which Genesis had managed to run their hospital, Brock wasted no more time and approached the woman at the front desk, “Hi, I’m here to see F-”

“Oh-oh my god!” the woman finally looked up and laid her eyes upon his body, his skin torn off in chunks, gashes carving down to the bone, and crusted blood coating him from head to toe. He thought the woman looked like she was about to pass out from the sight, “KYLE, YOU NEED TO TAKE THIS MAN TO THE ER RIGHT NOW!!!”

Brock gave a wry smile and tried to calm her with his only hand as she scrambled out of her chair to help him. Contrary to what he was trying to achieve, it only made her believe the wounds were even worse and that he had even lost an arm.

By now, the attention of those in the waiting room had been gathered, and they were in a state of horror at his almost zombie-like state. Some even moved to help him and Brock sighed.

Blasting his aura out in full and using Oppressive Might to push everyone back down into their seats, Brock laid his hand on the desk, “I’m fine, I just tripped. I'm actually here to see Fon Tanya… if she’s admitted…”

The lady – Shianne, according to her name tag – nodded profusely as the aura receded and began avidly typing onto her keyboard. A few seconds later, she met his eyes and gave a shaky smile, seeming rather unsure of how to react to him, “She’s… uh… alive and recovering. Please… please just wait in the waiting room.”

Brock raised a disbelieving brow.

“We’re… we’re full for v-visitors right now and rules are r-rules… sorry.” She explained, sinking deeper into her chair as she uttered each word. It was almost amusing, in a way.

Brock cursed quietly and ran a hand through his hair as he noticed a man – Kyle, he assumed – run out of the back. Oppressive Might slapped him right back where he came from. He didn’t want to deal with any more of these people’s shit today.

Moping, he dragged his feet away from the front desk and entered the waiting room. He plopped down into a free chair, one next to a sleeping older lady and a kid similar to Harry’s age, maybe a little younger. He was staring at him with wide eyes, unmoving as he clutched what seemed to be a broken hand.

“What’re you looking at numbnuts?” Brock sighed, and rested his head in his hands as the kid flinched, “…Sorry. I’ve had a long week.”

**

A painfully long hour of waiting later, and Brock was finally able to go and see Fon in her hospital room. Shianne at the front desk got an unoccupied doctor to lead him to her, and upon resting his hand on the dull metal handle, the man told him he’d be waiting nearby if he needed anything. Brock thanked him and stepped in.

And there she was, lying still in bed, the blankets tucked up to her armpits with her rather boney arms hanging out delicately. An IV drip was dug underneath the flesh of her forearm as it pumped liquified nutrients to keep her alive. A life monitor beeped steadily in the background, and her face looked a little bit plumper than when he had seen her last, strangely enough.

Relieved, Brock looked over at Harry who was sleeping soundly in a chair sat over in the corner of the room and he gave a small smile. Silently, he walked up to Fon and gazed down at her closed eyelids.

The sound of his strained sigh filled the room.

“I’m… sorry. I know I’ve been saying that a lot lately, but I guess I’ve just been making a lot of mistakes.”

He gritted his teeth and hissed a breath out between them, “I should’ve been more aware…”

Brock had no idea if she was comatose or not, as the doctor hadn’t supplied him with any actual information on her condition apart from that she was stable, but as he noticed the plastic sandwich packet in the trash can, he hoped she wasn’t. It could have been Harry’s, but he chose to think otherwise.

“It’s ok…”

The man flinched as her familiar voice spoke out to him. Her eyes were still closed, but a wry smile had worked its way across her face. Brock heaved out an aggrieved sigh, only now aware that she had been awake this entire time. I really do need to be more aware.

Being caught feeling vulnerable like that was a bit off-putting for him, but he tried not to care about it right now, “Glad to see you haven’t croaked it yet. How’s the hole?”

Fon chuckled lightly, and finally, she opened her eyes and met Brock’s own. They were a gleaming amethyst colour, “Well, it could be better. But… I guess it’s doing fine.”

Her tone was somewhat bitter, and Brock understood why perfectly. It generally wasn’t a good experience to be grievously wounded. He’d know.

“How long till your released?” He asked, glancing over at Harry, who had begun snoring loudly.

Fon followed his eyes and let out a small laugh, “two days, they said. It won’t be too long, if you’re willing to wait.”

“Don’t worry. I will.”

Idly scratching the beginnings of a beard that had begun to form on his face, Brock nodded at her and gently woke Harry, who responded to his presence with a tight hug. He must’ve been worried when he hadn’t returned for almost two weeks. Most people would be, probably more so now than ever.

The boy had faith in him, but he knew just as well that Brock wasn’t immune to death, only slippery in its icy grasp.

He handed the spatial ring back over to its owner and Brock graciously donned it, having missed the functionality of the little trinket. After staying and chatting with her for another hour, they eventually bid Fon goodbye and left, deciding it was best to give her some much-needed rest.

Brock could detect some inherent shakiness in the solidity of her aura, which he thought may have been a sign of trauma, and he knew it’d be good for her to work through it. He wasn’t a psychologist, and he doubted he’d be of much help with it.

Harry too looked like he needed some time to himself, with drooping bags sitting under his eyes and his skin having become a few shades paler than normal. He had lost the edge of his excitable nature, and Brock could tell he was exhausted after all the worrying.

Somewhat reluctantly, Brock gave Adam a call with the phone that had been smartly stored in his ring and the man picked up almost instantly. Annoyingly enough, a slew of apologies and thank yous for the events a few hours or so prior followed the moment he got on the line, and Brock had to work hard in order to calm him down.

In the end, they managed to have an amicable talk and the call finished with the directions to a luxurious hotel that was supposedly reserved as the abode of many of the high ranking individuals of Genesis as well as powerful unaffiliated men and women that temporarily resided within the city.

Brock supposed favouritism was unavoidable when resources were scarce, but seeing all the people living on the streets, it left a bad taste in his mouth.

He and his younger companion arrived at the place a little while later and were welcomed immediately by the uniformed guards stationed outside the main entrance. Promptly, they were led to their own private rooms. Brock was a little miffed that they were placed so far away from each other, and he suspected it was some sort of mind game or precaution on Maxwell’s part, but he couldn’t be bothered complaining about it.

Brock ended up bidding Harry goodbye and he told him to go get some rest before entering and settling into his own room. It was spacious, built-in with its own kitchen and even laundry, and Brock could see what appeared to be a fresh coating of paint on the walls. It was clearly a coverup for the decays of time, but it still looked almost as good as new, and that was enough for him.

To his surprise, a fresh outfit similar to his current one had been prepared for him and was neatly laid out on the pearly white sheets of the bed. There were a few key differences to the look of the jacket and the addition of what looked like steel-capped boots, but overall he found the style factor to be quite an upgrade.

A quick tug of the leather showed it to be enhanced by some unknown means, though it certainly felt weaker than his previous animal hide wrap that he wore. Maybe one day he’d get it turned into clothing for him, something that could withstand his battles for a long time.

For now though, he ran himself a nice hot shower - the heat far exceeding that which was safe for normal humans so he could feel the familiar warmth – and he rinsed off all the gunk and grime that was stubbornly clinging to his frame.

Blessedly, shampoo and actual soap had even been supplied, and Brock didn’t hesitate to make excessive use of them. He later found a handful of shaving razors sitting in the cabinet underneath the sink and he used one to groom the stubble on his face, once again making the thin white scars hidden beneath visible.

Afterwards, he had to admit he was quite satisfied with how he felt and looked. He had always grown out his stubble really slowly, so he knew he wouldn’t need to shave for a long while, and upon looking in the mirror, he admired the messy look of his hair as it hung over the sides of his head. It was almost long enough to tie it into a man bun, but it was fine for now.

He’d get a haircut later on anyway when he found the time.

Brock reached into the scraps of his jacket hanging on the towel rack and pulled out the crimson grapefruit, feeling the ambient energy pulsing and tingling the flesh of his palm. He decided against taking it just yet and instead took some time to contemplate on his Augments, as he hadn’t found time to do so recently.

Sparks felt like it was on the brink of a breakthrough, while Skies had certainly broken through a little while earlier, with Brock having checked his status on the initial trip to the nest. The extra 10 Agility and Dexterity it provided was much appreciated, as was the boost in combat power it afforded.

The method he had used to upgrade it made Brock wonder if he should try and go to a volcano or something to try and boost his other fiery Augment. Ultimately, he doubted he’d find one in the French countryside, although the System certainly made the notion possible.

The paths he had decided upon for his Augments were relatively simple. Sparks was an offshoot of fire, and fire was a beast, fickle and hungry and desperate for its own survival. While on the other hand, Skies was taking after, well, the skies themselves. Empty and free. Its breezes had no urgency, no rush, yet they would always arrive with haste. The wind was inevitable and everywhere, and so was the sky above it.

Brock felt the intricacies of their power shift slightly depending on his current insights, as he had begun to notice a long while ago, but for the most part, they stayed the same and retain similar effects.

Overall, as he further followed his thought up path for Sparks, he realised it did a tad bit less damage initially, although it smouldered on the target far hotter than before, as though it was hungry and greedily consuming the prey it had bit its fangs onto. It also had quite a noticeable colour shift overtime, from orange with purple specks to radiant crimson.

Skies had changed too, with the speed of the attacks he utilised with it appearing faster, yet always arriving at what he was certain was the exact same speed as before. It was immensely trippy, and honestly made no sense, but Brock had long learned that sense wasn’t something that was very applicable these days.

Then, finally, he was satisfied with what he had achieved and solidified during his meditation on the nature of his Augments, and he brought the fruit up to his mouth, smelling the sour scent of grapefruit and revitalising his cells as they begged for the immediate consumption of the item. Just like he did with the first Treasure he had found, Brock obliged and devoured it in several swift bites.

He felt a powerful energy surge through his veins and his consciousness slowly left him as his body began to evolve and change. Brock slumped to the tiled floor of the shower, black goop oozing out from every pore in his body.