The pouring rain drowns out the sound of tires screeching to a halt. The backdoor of the R.E.O facility is kicked open with full force, letting in a tremendous gust of wind and rain. The lights of the run-down facility are off, making the place look abandoned. The sounds of strained grunts and streak dragging clothes pair together with the heavy wet footsteps of boots. Brian gets Graves into an operating room.. struggling to lift him onto the table.
Brian frantically looks around the room... violently opening drawers, tearing open synth-gauze packages, and riffling through endless empty maxdoc inhalers... he knocks over a bunch of metal tools and glass containers... clanking and shattering to the tile floor. Graves' eyes open wide... coughing up blood, struggling to breathe as Brian races back to the table.
"COME ON MAN!!" Brian screams gritting his teeth... pressing down on Graves' wound making him shriek in immense pain. Unsure of if he should even be doing that, he quickly rips his hands away... before quickly putting them back on... then taking them off again. He quickly glances... looking around the room before sitting up and putting his bloody hands on his head. Scanning Graves' body while frantically yanking clothes out of the way. Brian desperately yells again. "WH-... WH-WHAT DO I DO?!! Y-YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!... PLEASE!!!!"
The sounds of rain and frantic panic in the blood filled operating room gives way to the feint sound of a woman's playful giggle.
As he desperately tries to work on Graves, the woman's feint giggle grows strong... as a flashback to Brian's past begins:
"Hands up choom!! Now gimme that shard!!" The woman grabs a fistful of Brian's shirt, trying to drag him to the floor with all her might.
He grabs the woman's arm... effortlessly spinning her around towards him... pulling her in close.
"Not bad." He whispers in her ear with a big smile on his face before shoving her down onto the bed.
The woman's laugh is infectious to him... "Not bad?! hahaha that was horrible!! Who the hell am I scaring with that?"
Brian sits next to her at the edge of the bed... the bright beautiful sun beaming in through the window.
"The how can be taught pretty easily... I need you to spend more time thinking about the why."
"What do you mean?" She asks with a grin... playing with Brian's blood red, crimson Nue, tilting it... making it catch the rays of the sun at just the right angle... giving it a glossy wet glimmer and sparkle.
"Take that same scenario... Iron in hand, shard to be klepped... but instead of some street punk gonk like me in your hands.. say its a mother of three... with her hands in the air... and her eldest trying to fend you off."
The woman's grin is wiped away... a face contemplating washes over as she loosens her grip... lowering the Nue. Brian continues.
"There's always going to be cases where force is the only option... but even in those cases... its not the only option."
"GOD VARGA! What the hell does that even mean!!?" She shouts gritting her teeth as she sits up and wraps her arms around his neck from behind. The pair laugh as Brian turns around to face her, still in her arms, lifting her slightly before both fall to the bed in embrace.
"Usually better to think before you act... that way you don't have to act before thinking... remember... the discretion of a solo-"
"-Can be as lethal as their iron." She whispers with a smile... finishing his sentence while looking deep into his eyes. The two giggle at the symmetry... sharing a brief silence in each other's arms. An impossible moment.
"And what about you huh? Mister merc guru with all the answers... what are you doing in that scenario?"
Brian stares deep into her eyes... a big smile as the two move closer to kiss.
The sound of pattering rain and heavy wind woosh back into focus... ending the flashback.
Graves coughs up more blood... struggling to take a deep breath... looking at Brian trying to apply gauze to his wound. He grabs Brian's jacket... yanking him in close, struggling through the pain. Brian grabs Graves' fist holding onto him.
"B-Brian..... li-listen to me. im.." Graves beginning to apologize stops himself... closing his eyes tight with a clear pause.. turning his head to the side and tensing up before looking back into Brian's eyes. "I just... wanted... I just wanted to GET BACK UP THERE Y'KNOW?!" He struggles to shout... fighting tears... letting out a big exhale and cough. He looks up at the ceiling. "I... W-We were..."
Graves pauses again with heavy breaths... thinking deeply... as if he feels his run on the edge nearing it's end... the pain... the glory of a life spent reaching above the squaller of his roots. Successes and failures shaping the life of just another street kid.
His tired voice looks Brian deep in his eyes.
"Y-You... you have to remember B..." He looks back up and away... another pause... an exhausted... fleeting breath.
"Remember for her..."
Graves' grip on Brian's jacket loosens as his hand surrenders to gravity... Brian grabs hold of it even tighter to prevent it... He pulls Graves in tight as the pair rest their foreheads on each other. Seeing only their silhouettes, the sounds of Brian's guttural screams are left completely muted and unheard... the sound of the gentle rain continues to relentlessly patter the windows of the darkened operating room.
Some time later in the night, Brian slowly pulls back up to the front of his house in Graves' Butte. The rain blankets the roof of the vehicle with numbing consistency alongside rolling thunder. He puts the Butte in park before looking down... he then looks over at the passenger seat stained with excessive amounts of blood... before letting his eyes drift away from it. The blood soaked bandages and gauze barely hanging on to Brian's open wounds stick to his damp, shredded clothes and body... another long night in NC has taken it's promised toll.
Brian goes to walk up his porch before stopping... staring at the wide open door frame and destroyed door letting in excessive amounts of rain and debris. The crack of the lightning briefly illuminates the destroyed front of his house... nothing more than a brittle shell as dead as he is... with stored memories of what it once was.
With his father's urn in hand, he steps in through the door frame to his completely pitch black house... crunching broken glass beneath his boots with every slow step.
Feeling completely empty and alone... lost... broken... an already tainted soul now ravaged with fresh wounds by the wrath of a grim and unforgiving city. He stands at the kitchen counter with the weight of the world baring down on his shoulders... he reaches to turn on a light.
The unmistakable sound he had trouble forgetting re-enters his mind instantly. The safety of a Nue being clicked off forces his eyes wide open.
Turning around... he hears the voice of a woman that hes never heard before... "Busy day?"