"What have you done, Sir?" Albert questioned aloud. "Boss won't like this!"

"Let me reason with him," Brandon suggested, still sitting on the floor and staring at Nancy's corpse. Unable to see her bullet-smashed scalp without shedding tears, he covered the body with his greatcoat. "This poor girl doesn't deserve to be a fighting cock."

"A child never deserves to be one, but you have to know that her death will affect the tourney." Albert took a deep breath. "Imagine having been hyped up about the fact that a necrolyzed girl will be fighting in the arena... And then the girl just happens to die. It's bad for business."

"Call Mr. Biscoe now!" Brandon demanded, reaching out his hand to Albert. Money-minded people always annoyed him; sure, you needed money to live, but did you have to go too far just for that? Couldn't you find a better job that wouldn't involve ruining children's lives?

A few seconds later, Albert handed him the phone. "Just speak. I've dialed the numbers."

"Good afternoon," Brandon muttered.

"Afternoon, Brandon. How did the interrogation go?"

"Bartel didn't know anything about Zach."

"How did he meet Nancy then?"

"He met her in an alley. He first ignored her, but because he needed money and remembered about the tourney, he tricked her into following him."

"So, that's how she ended up being a participant."

"Yeah, but Nancy..." Tears streaming out of his eye, Brandon said, "She's dead."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nancy's dead!" Brandon cried out. "Her body has crumbled to dust!"

"Are you sure?" Biscoe asked with a tinge of suspicion in his voice. "Mr. Wong actually sent me a picture of her during the registration. She still looked fresh this morning."

Having no choice, Brandon finally yelled, "All right! I lied to you! I killed her!"

"Brandon, you..." Biscoe suddenly snapped, "What the hell have you just done? You think Mr. Wong will like this?"

"Don't you understand what they'd put her through? She'd be fighting against necrolyzers! In an arena! People are buying tickets to see a child get torn to shreds!"

"Do I have to repeat this for you?" Biscoe calmed down. "Love is full of sacrifices and compromises. I do feel bad for Nancy, but my family always comes first. That's why I'd rather see her fight in the tourney than getting rid of her, offending Mr. Wong and losing a business partner as a result."

Brandon could only growl. Sometimes, he regretted having rejoined Millennion; being part of the Mafia meant he would be living off dirty money. Yet he didn't any choice back then. Millennion had forgiven him for his betrayal and saved his life last year, and most importantly, Mika - his adoptive child - was the rightful heir to the organization.

"And this was very idiotic of you as well. Just in case William was still out there and needed some kind of control, she could do the job with ease."

"Knowing you, Sir, I highly doubt you'll take them in afterwards because taking care of a necrolyzer costs a lot!" Brandon smashed his foot into the ground. "You know how much it hurts to die naturally as a necrolyzer?"

Silence.

"I bet you've killed Bartel as well," Biscoe mumbled.

"Yeah."

"All right. Now, stay at the scene to guard the corpses, will you? The clean-up crew will come to take their bodies soon."

"What for?"

"It's the proof of your crime," Biscoe replied. "After presenting it to Mr. Wong, I'll let him think of a fitting punishment for you. I hope he'll forgive us."

Brandon closed his tear-filled eye. "If that's what it takes to save a child from a dark fate and protect Millennion, so be it."

Silence filled the phone for a few seconds. "Well said, Brandon," Biscoe finally muttered before ending the call.

Opening his eye, Brandon returned the phone to Albert and looked at the greatcoat that concealed Nancy's body. After a gulp, he raised his gun and brought it down. Several times, until blood and brain matter drenched his coat.

"Mr. Brandon!" Albert went to seize his arm, but Brandon shook him free almost immediately. "Stop!"

"I have a hunch that Mr. Biscoe wants to do research on her body and revive her," Brandon grumbled as he gave Nancy's smashed skull one last thwack. After holstering his gun, he stood up and walked past Albert. "I can't let him do that."

"Why? Why does a child's life matter so much for you?"

Brandon sat on a couch and slouched against the backrest. He stared vacantly ahead as Rafael's face materialized in his mind. That mobster - rumor said that he had trafficked hundreds of kids and made at least fifty million yules from the ornaments crafted from their parents' bodies - served as a reminder that Billion hardly showed mercy to children. If Marcus had never walked past that dark alley that night... Even having become a powerful necrolyzer, Brandon still refused to imagine what might happen to him if that childhood hero of his hadn't existed.

Now that he had grown even stronger than Marcus, why not put his power in a good use for those unfortunate little ones?

"Why?" Albert asked again.

Brandon only stared at Albert. Someone who grew up with his hale and hearty parents by his side would never understand why.

"It's not like you'll get anything good from that."

His blood boiled like lava in a volcano. Then he erupted; standing up, he picked up the couch and hurled it at Albert. His blonde sidekick dived out of harm's way, but he remained on the ground trembling and sweating.

"B-but Sir," he stammered, "you know why p-people in Billion-"

"Shut up!" Brandon stormed towards Albert and seized him by his collar. "You don't know how it feels to be one of those unlucky children!"

Something just clicked in the mind of his ignorant sidekick, and Albert's eyes widened in shock and horror. "Wh-what? Don't tell me that you-"

"You understand now?" He released Albert from his grip before turning away with his eye growing wet. Whenever someone brought up about it, he couldn't hold back his tears. Marcus did save him from Rafael's goon, but the man eventually had to leave him in an orphanage for his sake. But what was worse? At the age of eighteen, Brandon learned that Rafael visited Marcus not long after the parting and kidnapped him. Once that effing mobster died, Millennion agents raided his house and found Marcus' taxidermied body put on a display inside Rafael's trophy room.

Brandon approached the door silently, but before more of those painful memories flooded him, he heard Albert say, "So, that's why you're so protective towards children." Glancing over his shoulder, he could see his sidekick limp to him with a saggy face. "I'm sorry."

Returning his focus to the door, he nodded. Sometimes, he couldn't help but think that Albert was lucky to work with him; other Millennion higher-ups would've punished him for being too outspoken. As stated by Norton, Brandon's anger wrought havoc and struck fear into people's hearts at first, but it would fade very soon. Just like a typical explosion.

Knock, knock, knock.

From where they came from, Brandon could determine that the visitor stood shorter than his knee - an unlikely height for a human. Instead of opening the door immediately, he stepped aside and turned the doorknob very slowly.

Once he flung the door open, he drew Cerberus and fired.

"It's the dog we saw at the hospital!" Albert shouted.

Brandon looked down to inspect his victim. The dog stood still, wagging its tail and sticking its tongue out at him. New flesh grew to shut the gaping wound on its forehead and expelled the bullet within. Zach's newest creation, he concluded. He needed Bonehacker to kill the beast, but he couldn't possibly leave Albert alone, could he?

Much to his surprise, the hound turned away and fled. Brandon holstered his gun and ran after it, knowing who the beast might lead him to.

"Sir, be careful! That dog is probably leading you to a trap!"

Brandon already knew that and kept running, but in his heart, he thanked Albert anyway.

Outside, he found himself in a dilemma. He had to grab his axe, but the hound would disappear from his sight if he slowed down, wouldn't it?

Ah, screw it! He stopped by his van and punched through the window. After picking up his axe, he resumed the chase. Oddly enough, the dog seemed to have stood still for some time just to wait for him. This beast would definitely lead him to a big fish.

They passed the desolate street of the outskirt. As Brandon ran along the pavement, he noticed the unfriendly glares from nearby humans. His ears registered curses and incoming footsteps, which he ignored. Necrolyzed beings could easily outspeed them after all.

The noise faded a few seconds later; now, he found himself in a place surrounded by abandoned buildings of various heights and dusty street signs. Peeled wall paints and broken glass littered the ground, which he and the beast stepped on without a fuss.

After a few loud barks, the hound halted abruptly and whirled. Brandon blocked the incoming spit with the flat side of his axe. The droplets of clear yellow fluid trickled down his axe and left smoking holes on the concrete beneath.

Suddenly, barks and scampers of many legs echoed from all directions. Black dogs burst out of nearby alleys and buildings, the spikes along their backs sparkling under the sunlight. Brandon looked at them, but only briefly as a barrage of spittle came at him. He protected his prosthetic leg and left his torso open to the acidic projectiles. Fabric and flesh melted away; luckily, adrenaline dulled the pain from his reopened wounds.

The black dogs pounced on him. With them standing within the trajectory of the acid-spitting hound, he knew which direction he had to focus on. Axe clashed against claws and fangs before each of them met flesh and drew blood.

The acid-spitting hound, instead of shooting saliva at the meat shields, howled aloud. Everything darkened all of a sudden, and when Brandon looked up, he saw a colossal foot coming down at him and the black dogs. He launched himself ahead, dodging the stomp that crushed most of the spike-back mutts.

Brandon regained his balance fast, and a swing of his axe ripped the three incoming black dogs in half. With no more spike-back hounds in sight, he observed the thing that helped him. A giant werewolf, standing slightly taller than a five-story building, loomed before him. Its dense black fur swayed in the wind like the rustling foliage within a forest. Each of its claws, wickedly curved while being much bigger than even Brandon himself, could tear down a row of these abandoned houses with ease.

Zach stood on its right shoulder, his claws unsheathed. His face displayed no emotion, yet Brandon could feel the brimming confidence and the killing intent in him.

Brandon could only shudder at the sight and step back with shaky limbs. His heart thumped harder and faster. He wasn't ready for this; compared to his foes, he was so underarmed and injured. Although the acid burns, gashes, and reopened wounds barely hurt, the bleeding continued and he didn't know how much more he could take.

No. If he - a powerful necrolyzer and Millennion's most trusted fighter - trembled at this, then how about the weaker ones who needed his protection?

Zach hopped off the bipedal wolf, ready to impale Brandon's skull. The necrolyzer jumped aside and dodged the concrete-shattering claws. Regaining his composure, he heard incoming footsteps from his right side. The acid-spitting dog rushed to him with its mouth wide open. With Zach coming at him, too, Brandon had to make a decision.

The dog is coming for my prosthetic leg!

Guided by his gut, Brandon swung his axe while leaving his left side - the location of his old wounds - open to Zach's claws. The hound dropped dead with its body split in two.

Returning his focus to Zach, he raised and brought his axe down upon his foe's arms. Zach darted away in time, much to Brandon's annoyance. Then a massive paw came down upon them.

As they leaped away from the swatting blow, Zach said, "Stupid werewolf. Do that once again and I'll teach you an unforgettable lesson." His tone sounded flat and plain, yet Brandon sensed anger in it.

The looming shadow of the werewolf retreated.

Zach came at him with his claws ready. Brandon predicted his foe's aim - the head - and parried the incoming claws. A knee to the gut knocked Zach back, and a sweeping slash sent him tumbling.

Bleeding out from the stumps of his legs, Zach told Brandon, "Come, finish me off."

Brandon wasn't falling for that; he fled once Zach's gushing blood transformed into new bones, muscles, and skin. He needed some time to figure out how to kill Zach - a superior, a creature with superb regenerative capabilities.

The giant werewolf blocked his path. As Brandon evaded its slow, destructive swipe, he thought of an idea. Hiding in the beast's stomach would buy him enough time; even if Zach followed him, their battle within would gravely injure - if not kill - it from the inside.

A humongous paw came, which Brandon dodged with a sidestep. As the bipedal wolf pulled it back, he hopped onto its hand. The beast man, unable to swat him flat as he ran up to its shoulder, barked in annoyance.

Yes, keep barking. Once the werewolf opened its mouth again, Brandon sprang onto it large tongue and jammed his axe into the roof of its mouth. Traveling into and down a pulsating red tube, he dragged his weapon along and bathed himself in the beast's blood.

"Brandon," someone called from beneath, "is that really you?"

Brandon looked down, and his eye widened at the sight. A shallow pool of boiling yellow fluid awaited him, but it didn't surprise him as much as the gray-haired man who stood amid it.

"William!" he called out as he dropped down from the end of the beast's throat. William jumped and seized him with his only arm.

"Let's get out of here quickly." William hoisted Brandon towards the wall of flesh, showing his bleeding, skinless legs as he ran. "We'll be in danger once my regenerative system stops working."

Eye growing wet, Brandon could only grit his teeth at the news. Poor William... To hell with killing Zach; his friend needed help first! Letting out a furious roar, Brandon slashed at the wall - right at the bite marks that William probably created in a desperate attempt to escape - again and again. Blood spurted from the laceration, further staining his already bloodstained body.

A few slashes later, he told William, "Push me into the opening!"

William complied. Brandon squeezed himself through the narrow cleft, and once he saw blue sky and dilapidated buildings, he wormed his way out. As he crashed to the pavement, he found William joining him.

Brandon smiled broadly. He had not only saved his old friend, but also found an ally to help him. William certainly knew how to dispatch a superior easily and efficiently, the knowledge Brandon needed right now.

A loud roar drew Brandon's attention. The beast man towered before him and William, barely hurt by the laceration running down its belly.

As it raised its foot, Brandon could only think of one thing: protect William.