Brockmann would have laughed, if laughing had even been the slightest bit his habit. Even with his hurting body, he had to smirk as he saw Fornby’s face.

“Get out the application form, we got new members.” He sighed and got up. Simon looked at him and then came over, opening the backpack and getting out the .44 revolver.

“Got this for you.” He smiled. Fornby stepped aside. The boy looked from one of them to the other and shrugged. “I want in,” he said. Brockmann checked the gun, only to find it was empty, as expected, and then hid it under his blanket.

“He wants in,” Fornby said and looked at Brockmann. Brockmann tried to get up and grunted in pain. He knew he was not in a state to do much, but worse, he hadn’t found the monster. The monster had found him. Truth was, he had no idea how the boy had found him to save him. He felt not only injured but outdated and useless. Fornby sighed.

“I know there is the whole tough guy cliche where he gets out of the hospital no matter how badly he’s wounded, but seriously, Brockmann, it ripped you apart. You’ve got to rest.” He folded his arms behind his back. Simon sighed. “He might be right about that, Mr. Brockmann.”

Brockmann shook his head. “This is not about being tough. I just wanna stay alive for now.” He looked at Fornby. “It’s smart, human level smart. So if you were that smart and you ripped a guy apart like it did with me, where would you look for him?” Brockmann raised his eyebrow.

“At the cemetery?” Fornby remarked.

“Well, if you can’t find me there?” Brockmann nodded and Simon helped him stand up.

“At the hospital,” Fornby finally said.

“We’re probably lucky we have a few of those.” Brockmann sighed and stumbled over to the wardrobe. His shirt had been ripped apart, as had the shirt under it. Simon sighed, took his backpack, and gave Brockmann a black shirt, saying something about Radioactive Milk Cookies. Brockmann looked at him.

“That or you show the world how great in shape you're in.” Simon sighed.

“Okay, I’ll get you a hotel room under my company’s name and lend you some money,” Fornby said. Brockmann looked at him and nodded. The old British guy still had some resources to offer.

“We can take one of the flats my Dad owns. An empty one,” Simon said.

“Did one of you take my bag from the motel?” Brockmann asked. He looked at Simon, who shrugged and then Fornby. The Brit shook his head. Brockmann clenched his fist and then gasped in pain as he had to raise his arms to get the t-shirt over his head.

“Shall I get it?” Simon asked. Brockmann shook his head.

“It won’t be there,” he hissed and tried to stay on his feet as he made it out of the room. Simon looked at Fornby, who shook his head.

“He was always like that. Got nothing to do with his age.” Fornby sighed.

“Like that?” Simon asked.

“An asshole,” Fornby explained as he followed Brockmann. Simon nodded.

“Oh yeah, makes sense,” Simon admitted as he walked out behind the other two.

****

SIMONHAMBURG: I could really use some help here.

NEVADASPHINX112: I cannot help you. I cannot even help myself. Just stay away from everybody and don’t trust a word they say.

SIMONHAMBURG: That sounds dark, even a bit paranoid.

NEVADASPHINX112: Don’t tell me it hasn’t got you.

SIMONHAMBURG: What?

NEVADASPHINX112: The paranoia. The question of what is real and what they made up to deceive us.

SIMONHAMBURG: Who made things up?

NEVADASPHINX112: That's the big one, Simon. Is that your real name?

SIMONHAMBURG: Yes. Sphinx is probably not yours?

NEVADASPHINX112: No, but I am in Nevada. That is something, right? As transparent as I get nowadays.

SIMONHAMBURG: You said your father was a member? Can I talk to him?

NEVADASPHINX112: He is dead. They killed him.

SIMONHAMBURG: Who are they? The Nocturne people?

NEVADASPHINX112: No, someone else.

SIMONHAMBURG: Should I be worried now?

NEVADASPHINX112: Always. Why did you ask about the Nocturne Society?

SIMONHAMBURG: I found an old member and think he might be somehow involved with the murder of my GF.

NEVADASPHINX112: He probably is. They are secretive, deceptive.

SIMONHAMBURG: Thought your Dad was one.

NEVADASPHINX112: So, I know what I’m talking about.

SIMONHAMBURG: Maybe we should meet? Where exactly are you?

NEVADASPHINX112: Aren’t you in Germany?

SIMONHAMBURG: Yeah. Might be a good idea to get out of here for a while. Any travel suggestions?

NEVADASPHINX112: Siberia.

SIMONHAMBURG: Could we just meet, and you could tell me what’s going on?

NEVADASPHINX112: Not a good idea.

SIMONHAMBURG: I'm lost here, please. I could use any help you’ve got.

NEVADASPHINX112: THE USER IS NO LONGER ONLINE.

****

Clever girl, Alex thought, as she lay down Simon’s tablet. She leaned back and looked around the flat, sipping from her cup of coffee. The boy had flown out. She had thought for a whole day about how to make up with him again, without risking being exposed. Now she had only found a deserted flat and a message trial on his tablet suggesting that he was still hunting. She had spotted his pin code some weeks ago, so this at least had given her the chance to have a look at it. The laptop was gone though. He had taken it with him. He had not used it for weeks. What was so important in it? Ah, the boy was too clever for his own good. Brockmann was dangerous because he knew too much. He was of the old guard and the old guard should have died out by now. Simon was different. He had all the energy of youth and was motivated by a broken heart, the most powerful engine a man could have.

With a sigh, she took out her gun and then grabbed the silencer from the inner pocket of her jacket, attaching it slowly. She didn’t expect him to come back soon, but she would wait at least until the evening. He had to go, and she was not sure if her friend had him on the list. These things were so unreliable sometimes. Ineffective and unreliable like Brockmann. The thing was from another time too. They were actually kindred spirits, Alex thought with a grin.

****