"You're okay. You pushed your body too hard. The most important thing is to rest more and limit your strenuous physical activities for the time being," A older male voice spoke.
Henry sat half naked on the nursing bed once he was done with his assessment, a cold damp towel hanging around his neck as he nodded his head to the doctor's words.
"You haven't been in a good shape these days, have you?" The doctor questioned as he went to his desk to type out a report on the desktop.
Henry stood up with a grunt and buttoned up his white shirt, then to hang his brown long coat over his shoulder. "Yeah."
"I understand your job, but please take care of yourself. Your body heals quickly, but that doesn't mean you can abuse it. Please watch yourself, Henry."
Henry has always been reckless. Unlike before, that recklessness has begun to punish him.
"No promises. Thanks, doc." Henry softly uttered, a small smile curling up his lips.
Henry stepped out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him with a click. He exhaled heavily, realisation dawned on him when he felt how heavy and sore his body was after the intense battle. He proceeded to lean against the wall as he looked at his own shaking hands, the sight he was looking at later switching over to smaller but familiar bloodstained hands, until he shook it off, breaths heavy. In the midst of wondering about the flashbacks he saw, the corner of his eyes picked up a figure of someone, which prompted Henry to look up. For a moment he thought he saw that young reflection of him again, but he soon relaxed when he saw that it was just Hannah, standing before him.
Her eyes twinkled when their gaze locked. He leaned away from the wall in anticipation.
Henry wanted to open his mouth to speak, but dropped the act when Hannah's arms wrapped around him in a tight embrace, her face buried into his chest due to her shorter height. Henry can only smile, hugging her back and kissing the top of her head. It felt as if it had been a while since he had a hug, so his grip on Hannah tightened. He needed it.
"I made you worry, didn't I?" He softly asked.
Hannah pulled herself away slightly. There was relief in her eyes, yet mixed with anger, which caused a sweat to roll down Henry's head.
"Not only were you asleep for three days, you decided to endanger your life the moment you wake up!?" Hannah exclaimed.
"It's not my fault I got caught in it..."
"You're lucky that Leora saved you in time."
"Better at the nick of time than early-"
Hannah flicked Henry's forehead. The pain made Henry retreat back, placing a hand on his forehead. He playfully pouts, but Hannah still displayed her stern expression.
Henry sighed. "Alright, alright. I'm sorry for making you worry."
"Yo, Villin!"
Blaise's voice broke through the two, with him tossing an item towards Henry. Henry caught it with ease, seeing a ziplock bag, noticing contents that consisted of silver bullets and its shells. Blaise approached him with both hands buried in his pants pockets, nudging Henry's arm gently with an elbow. Henry scanned the items in the bag with his brows narrowed.
"Recognise 'em?" Blaise asked.
"Silver bullets." Henry faced Blaise. "Specifically, the ones that were also fired towards me, isn't it?"
"Yup. I decided to take a second look 'cause I was bored, then I remembered we no longer have silver bullets in production."
"Silver bullets were previously used to cancel one's magic instantly. But once it hit vital areas, say, your core, it instantly kills you. It hurt worse than a normal bullet, and because of that, production was stopped. It's inhumane to let anyone suffer in an execution."
The bullets are not actually silver. The elements used for the suppression of magic looked similar to silver, but were properly called suppression bullets by the higher ups. Yet because of its role of executing rabid and uncontrolled humans, people became inspired by various myths of werewolves and vampires killed by materials made from silver, eventually giving it the nickname of silver bullets.
Blaise let out a chuckle as his response, shrugging his shoulders, his smile never fading.
"But it seems... production didn't stop, ay? We found lots of it on the rooftop. Coincidentally..." Blaise walked closer, his blue eyes twinkling. "All the deaths are caused by this."
"But why now?" Henry pondered.
Production of such bullets has long stopped for years, forgotten from memories and erased from records, all to avoid future replication. For it to appear again, someone would have known. Someone who can easily access confidential blueprints. Someone with an easy entrance to such materials in the first place is someone working in EIRENE with a rank high enough to read certain high classed reports.
Blaise shrugged. "Feels like we have been at peace for far too long, hasn't it?"
For a moment, the gears in Henry's head began to turn. The deaths of respectable fighters, sudden appearance of angelic centaurs, the murderous spies...
Henry snatched the bag and walked past Blaise. He waved his hand towards the young man, knowing someone in his mind that could bring him some underground information. It will not be cheap, but Henry has no worry paying it off. Considering he even freely let his bike explode on some angelic centaur's face.
"I'm still off duty, so do your needed investigation with the others. I'm gonna borrow your car for a bit."
Blaise and Hannah exchanged looks, unable to reply even if they wanted to. They both shrugged in synchronisation.
After what seemed to be a short ride, Henry parked the car on a small street. Dusk has settled down, revealing the bright neon cyberpunk aesthetics of the street. Though closer to a slum area, Henry stepped into the crowded markets, rubbing shoulder to shoulder until his eyes met the place he wanted to head to, Satan's Gate. A small casual bar that despite the modern futuristic and advanced look of the country, still only accepts cash payment. Henry found the name a little funny and edgy, yet it sounded memorable and iconic as talking about the bar brought people to turn their heads with interest.
Henry opened the door as it creaked, closing it behind him, drowning out the outdoor noise. The bar itself is also noisy, with eyes looking at him with a questioning gaze. Henry rarely comes into the bar after all, as he only enters to meet an old friend. Someone with a wide connection that gives him information he needs.
"Ay, Henry!"
The bartender greeted first, leaning forward on the counter. The bartender had long luscious locks, falling down to his shoulders and pretty brown eyes. If bartending is not his job, maybe being a model would be second.
Henry approached with a smirk. "The usual."
The man immediately poured a glass of red wine, sliding it towards Henry. "You look fuckin' exhausted, man. Shit happened? Wait, nah. Shit obviously happened. It's on the news. You good, bud?"
"Overworked, Jimmy. Haven't been getting a break." Henry took a sip. "Oh, by the way. Need your help."
Jimmy eyed Henry with a knowing look. A look Henry knew fully well. They both stared long enough, as if talking telepathically.
"Bike?"
"Yeah. I need a new one."
"The same model?"
"Obviously."
Jimmy handed Henry a pen and a chequebook taken from a drawer. Henry wrote his details, then tore the page to hand it over to Jimmy. Jimmy grabbed it, reading the words carefully and nodding his head.
"Call me when you get one. Got your service charge in it."
"That isn't just the reason why you came here, don'tcha?"
Henry's eyes widened a little when he remembered another reason for his visit. He pulled a sealed bag from one of his pockets and placed it on the counter for Jimmy to look. Jimmy eyed the transparent bag intently, soon to have shock written all over his face when he noticed he was looking at actual silver bullets.
Henry leaned back slightly, drinking his wine. Henry's eyes were now serious instead of lighthearted, brows narrowed as his fingers tapped slowly on the counter, sounding like a slow countdown. Each moment became increasingly tense, the noises becoming muffled as all focus shifted towards the bullets.
"Know anyone or anything related to this?" Henry asked with a low voice.
Jimmy shook his head. "Production? Nah. But I think people have been passin' this stuff 'round. Weird people have been active lately."
Henry's arched a brow. "What kind of weird people?"
"Hmm... Dark clothes. They come by near this area, saw them walking to some route which should lead to an abandoned warehouse round'ere." Jimmy leaned close, and Henry's eyes shifted with focus. "They even carried suitcases sometimes. I don't know what is inside, 'cause I don't wanna get into trouble. I ain't got no powers like you. But I noticed some of 'em have some weird purple veins on their neck or side of their face."
Henry took a deep breath, keeping the bag in one of his pockets. Henry placed a stack of cash on the counter as he stood up. One for the payment of his wine, and the other his huge service tips, the tips also hiding as payment for getting informations he needed for his own investigation.
"A'ight, I think that's all I need. Thanks for your time, Jim." Henry leaves a pat on the bartender.
And with that, Henry exited the bar. Despite just spending a short while in there, the sky has already darkened, two silver moons of different sizes visible along the cloudless night sky. He continued to walk down the bustling street, approaching his car. That is, until the corner of his eyes spotted a familiar figure with particular white hair passed by, holding a dark grey suitcase. Henry turned, raising a brow once knowing his eyes was not tricking him, his mouth whispering a "Kevin?". Overtaken by his own curiosity, Henry began to tail the young man from afar, trying to see what Kevin is being up to.
The now small crowd slowly dissipated itself the further Henry followed, soon overtaken by the deafening silence and the soft taps of his boots. Passing by a few alleyways, he noticed a few unfamiliar people with dark fully covered up clothes that seemed shady, just like what his friend told him. Henry went into hiding when he saw Kevin approaching the shady group that seemed to be guarding the area. Henry creased his brows, upset that he cannot hear the conversation taking place as his drone, Bob, is not with him. Though he noticed that they were opening up a suitcase Kevin was holding, checking on the contents before proceeding. Henry picked up his phone and took a few pictures, but paused when he noticed a man holding a small vial containing some sort of purple-blue liquid.
After a few minutes, Kevin was finally let in but the men continued to stay. Henry had to think of a plan, eyes first looking at his belt. His sight gazed at his glock, but he cannot kill anyone. He is not in an active mission, he cannot openly fire.
Henry first tossed a small stone to get and divert their attention. He then immediately jumped, kicking on their heads, knocking everyone out effectively and silently before landing on his feet with a soft grunt. The entrance before where he stood led him to the abandoned warehouse that was spoken about, where Henry assumed patrol guards would be moving around the area. Kevin, however, is nowhere to be found. Henry then turned his sight to the sleeping men, feeling around their clothes and seeing a few vials of the same purple-blue liquid falling from their pockets.
Henry shifted their heads to take a look at their necks and faces, seeing matching purple veins creeping up to their head as if they had consumed poison. Henry cursed under his breath, keeping the vial to himself until the man he was inspecting moved, startling Henry. Henry backed away, but was too late when the man raised his hands and grabbed henry to a tight chokehold. Henry noticed the veiny mark beginning to glow as well, their eyes looked dead, as if they had been controlled.
Henry furrowed his brows and kicked the man away with his own strength to let go, finally knowing the situation he was in. The man was sent back and hit his head on a wall before collapsing. Henry gasped, a hand placed gently on his neck as he recovered from the tightest neck grip he had ever felt. The man looked average or at least well built, but with such strength, his neck would have broken if he had not reacted fast. It almost felt like he was under the grip of a ravaging beast, superhuman even.
Could it be the effects from the liquid as well?
He cannot risk fighting for now. His body was still healing, and a simple nosebleed is still inconvenient. Besides, he was also not at his fullest strength to be able to fight men who could smash his face to pulp.
Henry immediately left the area with a run, the street crowd he once stepped into has died as it has entered the dead hours of night. Henry drove his car out of the area speedily, wiping a sweat on his forehead once he was finally safe. Henry was still relieved that the vial he held for evidence was safe, which should be useful for research and investigation. Another clue to the puzzle, a small connection. Leora also needs to know Kevin's involvements in such jobs, so he sent the pictures he took to her, predicting a simple response like a thumbs up or getting marked as read.
What he did was risky, but Henry has always been into risks ever since he has worked in such a force. Henry now has to beg his superior to bring E1 back into business, for they cannot sit back any longer.
It is not just the silver bullets that are back. As Henry's grip on the steering wheel tightened, he felt that this could be a slow progress to what could soon be a fierce battle between the unknown.