Recap: Brandon refused to help one of Samsara's "clones" find his father, instead insisting to see his friend Ryan. Ryan had been in a coma since the battle in Las Vegas and had developed a serious brain hematoma that Samsara could not treat. Samsara offered to rewrite Ryan's DNA with nanobots, turning him into one of the clone-like duplicates or to transport him to a local hospital that specialized in neurosurgery. Brandon had to decide whether to rewrite his friend's DNA without his consent or to risk his life in surgery.
Winning Choice: I understand the risks are high, but regardless of what I think I cannot make that decision for him. That's a choice that only he could make. So get him ready and let's get him to the hospital.
I look down at Ryan's face and know deep in my heart that he would not want the treatment. Even if he did, I can't make that decision for him. Maybe he would be okay with the new face and super-powers, maybe he would hate them. I know the betrayal I felt when it was done to me, and I didn't have my entire appearance changed as part of the deal. Bottom line, this is his decision to make and nobody else's.
That doesn't mean I'm not going to do everything I can to help him.
"You're not going to give him your treatment," I tell Daley. "Let's get him to the hospital."
Daley looks disappointed for a moment, then nods to Lau. Lau strides off, shouting orders in Chinese. The place explodes in a flurry of activity and people in lab coats swarm around Ryan's bed to prepare him.
Daley taps something into her tablet, not looking up as she talks with me. "I am notifying Queen Elizabeth Hospital of our arrival and sending over his medical records. It will look like a patient transfer from another hospital. Your friend will get the help he needs, but they will figure out the deception at some point. I suggest you be gone by the time they do."
"Let me worry about that. I'm getting good at dealing with people who are mad at me," I tell her.
She looks up at me. "You are making a mistake, Mr. Stamp. Sometimes you need to make tough decisions for people that they cannot, or will not, make for themselves."
"You let people make their own decisions, then live with the consequences. Even if that's a hard thing to do," I tell her.
"Living with the things you don't do is often worse than the things you do, Mr. Stamp," she says. A look of sadness crosses her face for a moment as several doctors wheel Ryan's bed out of the room towards the elevator. I follow them up to the same room where we entered the facility just a short time ago. Miguel pulls out the uncomfortable soundproof bag and looks at me.
"I assume you want to come with us, yes?" he asks. "It's either the bag again, or you stay here under guard."
The whole procession has come to a halt. I hate that bag but they're not going to open the outer doors until I am secured, so I nod and bend my head down to make it easier for Miguel.
They lead me out in silence and darkness. The engines from the helicopter rattle through the soles of my feet, but it feels different than before. Noisier. More powerful.
The vibrations thrum through me as the copter lifts off, and I wish I could see Ryan. Miguel is blaming me for all that's happened to him, but that's insane. Right or wrong, Ryan made his own choices. Unfortunately, knowing that in my head doesn't stop my stomach twisting in knots that I may be making the wrong call now.
Ryan told me once that he joined my fight because he wanted to make a difference; he wanted to have an impact. Now he's dying far away from home, surrounded by strangers. Would he have still made that choice if he had known?
When I started dealing drugs, I did it for the money. I needed the money for my family, or at least that's what I told myself. I was helping the best way I could, and I pushed the people who were being hurt by the drugs out of my mind. I didn't like it, but I justified it. Those druggies were making their own decisions. It was their own fault, and someone was going to make money from it, so why not me?
I didn't have many friends back then. I was a high school drop-out who thought he was smarter than everyone else. The irony of that being totally lost on me. It was that arrogant, young, moron who had the world kicked out from under him when he met Nicole at a party.
She was beautiful, smart, and had this laugh I was addicted to. I would do anything to hear it, from telling stupid jokes to showing off in front of my friends. I was pretty messed up at the time, but she saw something in me that caused her to stick around. It made me want to be a better person. I hope I'm living up to that now.
Miguel yanks the bag off my head and my eyes burn for a moment as they adjust to the light.
I was right - we're in a different helicopter. This one is designed for medical transport and has several places where patients in stretchers can be secured. There's only one at the moment.
We're flying low over Hong Kong and moving incredibly fast. Dr. Daley is watching over Ryan and frowning. Miguel returns to his seat near Lau on the far side of the chopper, tossing the bag on the floor. They both watch me closely.
The pilot says something briefly in Chinese, and I know it means we're almost there. If I heard more Chinese I think my nanobots would be able to translate completely. I wish I could download info into my brain like in the movie the Matrix. Wait... could I do that?
"Your friend isn't doing well," Daley says. "But we're almost there."
The helicopter banks and comes in to land on the medical helipad of an enormous hospital. Doctors rush out to meet us, running low to fight the wind of the blades. Miguel and Lau release Ryan's stretcher and help transfer it to the gurney the doctor's brought out. Daley yells information to one of the new doctors, showing him readings on the tablet. She hands him the tablet and follows as they speed Ryan inside.
They're still talking when Ryan begins to thrash wildly. His eyes flutter open, and he bucks and twists on the stretcher. If he hadn't been strapped down, he would have thrown himself to the ground. The doctors begin yelling at each other and start running even faster, with Ryan's gurney hurtling down the hallways of the hospital.
I try to rush to his side but a strong grip on my arm holds me back. It's Miguel. He shakes his head at me.
"You can't help him. Let the doctors work," he says.
I glare at him, wanting to hit him out of sheer helplessness, but I don't. I nod, and he lets go of my arm. They push Ryan through some swinging double doors and towards an operating room. Dayley and Lau follow, and I stand there with Miguel watching the doors close and feeling helpless.
After I met Nicole it wasn't long before I began spending less and less time with my friends and more time with her. We would go to the movies, go out to eat, or sit at home and watch TV. That may seem dull, but it was the best thing in the world. Being with her gave me the promise of something more in life. That I had a chance at a future.
My friends gave me a lot of crap for it, but I began to realize that most of them really weren't my friends. Their world was selling drugs and partying, and they were just mad I had something they did not. Nicole saw something in me that I hadn't, and it changed me.
I pulled back from them, both because they worried Nicole and because I honestly wanted something better. One of the few exceptions was Zach. I'd known him for years, and Zach had been there for me many times. His family was worse off than mine, and he had nothing. He'd been saving money from the drug deals trying to get out, and was getting close to having enough cash to move his family to a new place. Nicole liked him, and he liked her in return. He was happy for me.
So I think he felt bad asking me for help. With one last, big deal he had. He said that it would get him the money he needed. Just drive, he said. That was it. I didn't have to carry the drugs, or even a gun. Just someone to stay back in case things got rough. I shouldn't have gone, but I couldn't let him down. I knew Nicole wouldn't approve, so I didn't tell her.
To this day, I don't know exactly what happened. It was late at night and we were meeting behind a run-down strip mall. Zach was with another guy I'd never met before, but he seemed pretty chill with it all. We ran over the drill, and when another car pulled into the lot they got out and walked over to it. Two guys got out, and it was then that things went south.
Another car pulled up behind the first. It was a big, shiny boat of a car. Three gang-bangers spilled out and it screeched to a halt. You never want to be outnumbered anyway, especially by guys like this.
I watched, cursing. I couldn't do anything else, and I felt helpless. The gang-bangers were agitated as hell, both at Zach and the guys we were meeting. They argued back and forth, then one of the bangers drew their gun. They didn't point it at anyone at first, but just getting it out was enough to make me start the car.
Even though he couldn't hear me, I talked to Zach under my breath. It's not worth it, I told him. Give them what they want, I pleaded. Walk away, I begged.
More guns came out. Zach's new friend pulled out his.
The guns went up. I have no idea who fired first. Zach went for his gun, but fell to the ground, half his head missing. All these years later, I can see that moment as clearly as if it happened last night. It will never leave me.
His friend ran towards me but went down, shot in the back. The original guys they were meeting opened fire on the gang-bangers.
I floored it. Several shots hit the car, and I ducked down and went for the exit to the parking lot. That's when I hit Jonathan Allen Dugan.
I didn't know his name at the time. I wouldn't learn it until the trial. Jonathan Allen Dugan had a long record and was known to associate with the guys Zach was selling to. He was a lookout so was hiding nearby in case things went south. He came running when the gunshots went off.
I hit him with my bumper, and he crumpled under my car. I drove over his head, snapping his neck. The guys who killed Zach got life sentences. I didn't have any guns or drugs on me, and it was an accident, but I was at the scene of the drug deal. I pled down to manslaughter.
What hurt me the most was failing the ones I cared about. I wanted to help Zach, but I couldn't talk him out of this last deal. And now he was dead. I loved Nicole, and I was sure she was going to leave me. I made a stupid decision and now others would pay for them.
In the hospital, I strain my ears to try and hear what's happening to Ryan behind the closed doors, but there's too many sounds and they're several rooms away.
Miguel leans against the far wall of the waiting room, watching me. Other families sit about the room, looking sad and worried. I pace. I want to do something, anything, but for all my powers there is nothing to do but wait.
A half-hour later a doctor enters the room, looking grim. He looks at me and bows his head sadly. The world goes quiet and far away.
"We were told you were with the man with the aneurism. I'm afraid that we were not able to help him. He passed away a few minutes ago."
No. No no no no no...
I rocket down the hallway, tearing the hospital door from its hinges in my rush. I catch Ryan's scent, faint and clouded among the smells of antiseptic and chemicals.
Ryan lays on a table, his eyes closed, medical equipment all around him. There's a lot of surgical gear near his head, which is cut and bloody, and I try not to look at it.
I look instead at his face, still and quiet like a statue. I take his hand. It's stiff and cold and a sob clenches in my gut. It's frightening how fast the heat drains out of someone when they die, like a switch goes off and the person you once knew and cared about is gone. All that's left are memories, and a cold impostor who has kept his face.
Another friend I've failed. Another person lost because of my actions. Or lack of them.
"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," I whisper to him. "You wanted to make a difference, and you did. More than you ever knew."
The doctor runs in behind me, shock on his face. "Sir, I am sorry. We did everything we could, but his-"
I whirl around, grabbing the doctor by his scrubs and lifting him off the floor in a rage. His eyes widen in fear, but before I can say anything a firm hand grabs my arm. It's Miguel.
"Put him down," he says quietly. I do, trying to calm my grief. The doctor runs off down the hall as tears stream down my cheeks.
"I am sorry about your friend," Miguel tells me, quietly. I swat his hand away and lunge at him, grabbing him by his shirt and lifting him into the air. He doesn't fight back.
"Sorry? He didn't have powers. He wasn't enhanced or pumped full of nanobots. He was just a regular guy who wanted to do the right thing."
"There are a lot of people like him. Many suffer the same fate."
"He was a good man."
"And a brave one, but that isn't always enough. I am truly sorry for your loss. I know what it is like."
There isn't a hint of insincerity in his face. This is someone who has lost a lot in his life. I let go of him. He steps back, smoothing out his shirt.
"Where is Daley?" I ask. "And Lau."
"They have returned to the facility. It became clear the doctor could no longer help your friend, and she has important work to do."
"Take me there," I tell him.
He shakes his head. "No, I stayed behind to help you make arrangements for your friend. We can bury him here, or I can have his body put on a flight back to the states."
"Oh no, we have unfinished business. Quite a lot of it, in fact," I snarl.
"You do not understand what we are trying to do. That's clear to us. There is nothing more to say. I will help you leave Hong Kong, but that is all."
"And if I don't?"
He looks at me for a moment. "You are not welcome here any longer. We do not wish to part as enemies, so please do not make that the case."
"I think the body count is high enough."
Miguel nods towards Ryan's body. "What happened to your friend is exactly what we are looking to prevent happening to others. He was the victim of a group who thinks that force is the way to rule. Force keeps people down. We want to raise them up. Removing disease, weaknesses, suffering-"
"Individuality," I interrupt.
"I've seen too much death already. That's why I do this. Maybe you haven't seen enough. Seeing a lot of death doesn't make it matter less; it makes it matter more."
"You expect me to just walk away?" I ask, rage and grief coursing through me.
"No. Fight your government, find your friends. Leave us to our work. Your battle is elsewhere, and we can't risk having you around disrupting our plans."
Miguel watches me carefully, and I think to myself...
1. I need answers from Daley, about their program and what they are doing with my blood samples. I'm staying, and if they want to make it difficult then I can make it as difficult as they want.
2. A brawl in a strange city isn't going to be anything but a disaster. I'll tell Miguel I'm leaving, but will try to ditch him and stay in Hong Kong to learn what Samsara is up to. I know Miguel will be watching me closely, so it may be tough to do.
3. Enough damage has been done here. I'm leaving. I need to connect with Tyler and Susan, and find out what happened to Nicole. My questions for Samsara and Hong Kong can wait for another day.
Authors Note: Sorry this one took so long to write, but I wanted to make sure I did this right, and it took me a lot longer than I thought. I'll leave it at that for now, but if you have questions let me know in the comments.
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