Arc 3 - Interlude VIII: Agent Briggs

(Laurinius 11, 56 / 9:58PM)

7 years prior…

“Daddy? Is that you?”

“You’re still awake? Come on Emilia, it’s past your bedtime.”

A man stood in between the room and hallway, his right hand on the doorknob. Below average in height, and having blonde hair, he looked to be in his early 20s. He wore a tuxedo and slacks, along with dress shoes, but his youthful face littered with a smile.

Walking into the room, he loosened his grip on the knob. Staring at a girl wrapped in thick blankets, she too stared at him. He only glanced at her desk for a second, and noticed both paper and colored pencils perfectly disorganized.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been drawing late again. It’ll make you lose sleep.”

“But I’m not sleepy!”

“Still Emilia, you got to follow your mom’s rules.”

Once he reached her bed, he grabbed the top of the sheet, and laid her in like a corpse. Seeing her squirm, trying to snuggle in the warmth she was abided in, she averted her eyes away and puffed her cheeks.

“You promised to read me before bed.”

“Promised? Oh wait yeah, it was before you went to school. Alright alright.”

Straightening out his back, he turned to the same desk she drawed earlier. Walking toward it, he reached one of the cabinets, and pulled out a small book that housed barely twenty pages.

“Just one story okay?”

“Okay.”

Five minutes later.

Closing the book, he nodded to himself and returned it from where it was stored. Turning around, he laid his eyes on the girl who slept soundlessly. No snore, no groans, only tranquil breaths breezed through her nose.

‘Rest sweetie, love you.’

Walking toward the bed, he heard her snores whistle into his ears. Her silent sleep, her vulnerable forehead, it was enough for him to bend over, and give her a kiss on her forehead. Seeing her squirm in the mountain of bedsheets, he straightened his back once more, and turned toward the door. He saw a woman standing in between the room and the doorway.

“Late again Briggs?”

“S-Sorry, had a lot of paperwork to do. But I was paid overtime.”

“Again? This is the third time in a row!”

“A-Again I’m sorry.”

“Sighs… okay. Well I prepared you dinner, but you’re gonna have to reheat the food.”

Raising his right hand to the back of his neck, his palm nuzzled against it, while walking toward her. But right as he stood in front of her, she closed her eyes, and exhaled air from her mouth. Loosening stress from her shoulders, her hands that were on her hips were dragged by gravity.

“Just please let me know when you’re doing overtime, or being out and about. I need to know.”

“I-I’m being honest. I was doing overtime.”

“Well, you rarely lie, so I believe you.”

“And there’s uh, something you should know.”

Both Briggs and her walked out of the room.

The walls around them were cemented in light green wallpaper. Nailed to the wood, were photos of all three of them smiling. Whether it be a breakfast photo, in a park, or in the pools, it was a standard family.

“I met this cool guy, a fellow agent that’s in the same quadrant I’m in. He’s been helping me out, helping me know where’s where and what’s what.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“And there’s also this woman agent as well, but uh… nevermind. But overall, I’m doing great, we’re doing great, and this new job is probably one of the best opportunities that I was given.”

Walking toward the kitchen, Briggs noticed the wooden table that housed only one plate. Making his way toward his seat, the wood cushioned his tailbone with ease. He didn’t care to reheat the food. Grabbing his fork, he began eating a stew mixed with pork, rice, and sauce.

A small smile flashed over her.

“How about you invite your friends over? That way I could get to meet them.”

“You’ll like the male agent, but not the female one.”

“Eh don’t worry. If she tries to do anything funny to you, I’ll just beat her.”

Giggling to herself, she moved her hands to cusp her hips. Having a ponytail hanging on her shoulder, her arms were lean in size, but she had a tattoo on her right tricep. Finishing up her giggle, she laid her eyes on Briggs, and gave him a soft smile.

“Yeah, I think things are starting to look good after all.”

The next day…

—Her smile faded, her eyes emitted nothing, and she laid on the ground with a pale face.—

The door was wide open, as the silence of the home roared the man’s ears. The evening sun casting a hellish glow, he stood at the front porch, but his legs pushed him to walk. He continued to see a pool of red all around her, leaving no breath to whither from both of them.

All from a single gunshot, looking to be done in by a shotgun. The hole larger than most bullet wounds, the smell she excreted wasn’t her body rotting; but her digestive tract failing. His fingers twitched, his nose wrinkled.

“Holy shit…”

Behind Briggs, was another man wearing the same tuxedo as him. Being right by his shoulder, the silver-haired agent stared at the corpse giving out that manure smell. The two being in the kitchen, the agent next to Briggs darkened his eyes.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Brigg’s hands dropped to his sides, as he blankly stared at the fresh corpse. His breath, frozen and glued to his throat, couldn’t utter any syllable let alone a word. Blood still flowing out the wound, Eren nodded to himself, and strained his cheeks in veins. Balling his right hand, he turned to Briggs.

“T-This body is fresh, like a couple of hours fresh. There’s a chance the killer didn’t make it that far.”

With his right hand, Eren took out the desert eagle from his right holster. Holding the grip with quaking hands, he tread the wooden floor with the weight of a feather. As he began scanning the rooms, one at a time, Briggs knelt down.

Lowering his hand onto his wife’s forehead, she was beyond cold. No warmth to give, no smile to return, she was there, laying in her own blood with shock in her eyes. But then a thought flashed within him. He sprang his body up, and sprinted toward the farthest room of the house.

“Emilia!”

Thumping the wood, each step he took with his shoes scorned the wood to creak. Feeling his own walls shake, feeling it throttle with jittering dust, it wasn’t long before he laid eyes on that door. Angling his shoulder to the right, he took charge, and molded himself like a battering ram.

Bursting down the door, he checked to see—

—She was gone.—

The sheets were tucked in nicely, and the paper and pencils on her desk were… organized. Fastening his breath, hardening his chest, he pressed a hand on it as his breathing worsened.

‘W-Where is she…?!’

Without heeding to the thump of footsteps, Briggs felt Eren’s presence from the doorframe. Having his barrel aim at the ground, he too took in the girl’s room, and his grip tightened. The two saw nothing ordinary.

“There was nothing I could find. Footprints, fingerprints, this killer we’re dealing with is smart.”

Eren thrusted his desert eagle back into his holster. Turning his eyes toward Brigg’s wife, his eyes softened the more he stared. Exhaling air out of his mouth, he pushed his cheeks down, and whimpered the words forcingly.

“But we can analyze your wife’s body.”

Pushing his eyes onto the open wound, it continued to whimper out blood. Only able to darken his eyes, he noticed the shift in Brigg’s body. Whether he wanted to cry, or to contain whatever he’s hiding, Eren had to tread his words lightly.

“If she was shot by a shotgun, we could find a shell or slug that’s deep in the wound. Briggs?”

Having his back slightly hunched, his fingers quivered endlessly, and his throat wallowed in excess saliva. Trying so hard to confess those words, he wiggled his fingers, and tickled his nails against the fabric of his slacks.

“Is it okay if I… uh—”

“Sure.”

There was no shyness in his voice. It wasn’t cold, nor was it packed with strictness. It was desperation, like he was already at his wits end. Without so much as turning to face Eren, he stared at the wall.

“As long as it brings back my daughter; I’ll do anything.”

________________________________________________________________________

(Laurinius 14, 56 / 1:33PM)

Two days later…

In a van with no name, were two agents embroidered with exhaustion. Plowing through the mangrove trees, and the surrounding bushes, the two-lane road swerved with winding roads and sharp turns.

The driver kept his eyes peeled on the road, his hands tightened on the wheel. The passenger meanwhile, clutched his hands together. Eyebags encompassing his cheeks and eyelids, he stared at that same road.

“It’s been two days since you last slept. You know, there’s nothing wrong with taking a nap.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“It’s okay. Take time to—”

“I said I’m fine.”

Eren nodded, and kept his lips sealed. The road ahead only worsened, leaving the van to rock with the motion of those turns. Because he went over the speed limit, it left the two to feel it in their stomachs.

“We’ll get to the hideout soon. Agents are already returning fire, and the reports said casualties are starting to rank up.”

“So then who is it we’re fighting?”

“Los Cerdos de Ojos Negros, a cartel group that operates around these parts.”

Briggs’s eyes felt a quiver of water, one that he did his best to keep it from riveting down. Looking out at the winding road, Briggs felt a small fire flicker in his stomach, one that boiled the contents of his stomach.

Eren also contained such emotions, to which he gulped.

“I’ve heard rumors, or rather speculations, that they run business like normal gangsters. But the difference between them and a thug down the street… At least the thug is human.”

Eren remembered the lecture about such a group.

The room smelled like mint and licorice, with the floors and walls speckled with white. It was a normal class, one that discussed different criminal groups and their locations. Each group had mostly low levels, and some were moderate. But there was only one that was high. Very, very high.

“These guys operate on a whole entire level. What they do to their enemies are unspeakable, and what they do to those beneath them, determines all upon an individual’s mood.”

“Then…”

“They act like demons. The government has put a bounty on them so high, most agents would rather take them dead.”

A group with a relationship with the devil. Eren exhaled air out of his nose, and shifted his back so that he stood straight while he drove. Briggs fiddled with his fingers, his nails scratching the skin that blanketed his knuckles. Keeping his stare forward, he didn’t blink once when the scene played out.

“But don’t worry Briggs, we’ll arrive there in three hours or less. From the intel we received, it’s supposed to be a holding camp.”

“But how many members are stationed there?”

“Maybe a battalion of them. Maybe more, maybe less. We got good news though. Spartan Gabriel ordered 1/4th of the agency to lead a strike on the camp, so this could be a breakthrough.”

Turning the wheel left, the van made a sharp turn, and began their descent down a hill. No curves in front for a few miles, Eren pressed on the gas, making the engine roar and throttle. Eren felt his cheeks drop, along with his eyes.

“We could have a lead on those missing kids throughout the years.”

Placing his head on the headrest, both of them gazed their eyes ahead. Briggs didn’t heed to the endless mangrove trees, or the bushes near the shoulder lane. The longer Eren drove, the more that exhaustion built upon their shoulders.

Briggs finally glanced down at Eren’s hip, to which he saw that desert eagle he wielded. Letting go of his clenched hands, he laid them flat on his thighs.

“Hey Eren, what do you think of mercy killing?”

Eren didn’t turn, but he allowed his right ear to let in those words. Having his left hand hold the wheel, his right scratched his cheek, while his elbow rested on the armrest. With the road in front of them being straight, it left Eren to allow his thoughts to connect.

“I know this may sound controversial, but if the person is still breathing, they shouldn’t be killed. I don’t like taking one’s life…”

The silence only blared against their ears. Their shoulders were left with a weight of awkwardness, and their own beating hearts pulsated against themselves. Unable to take such a long silence, Eren turned to Briggs.

“Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering, that's all. I could say the same as well. I never really like the idea of—”

“She’ll be fine Briggs.”

Briggs felt his vision clear up. Feeling the darkness of his eyes lighten, he swallowed a multitude of saliva. He felt his whole body shower in warmth, from his fingers down to his nails.

“It’s been what? A day since she was last seen? At the speed we’re traveling, I highly doubt they’ll do anything bad that fast.”

Blowing air out of his mouth, Briggs pelted his head onto the headrest. Feeling his own hair ruffle with the cushion, he didn’t smile, but he did feel the weight of an imaginary anvil. Lowering his eyes onto his hands, at his knuckles, he felt them twitch ever so gently.

“Y-You’re right… my bad. It’s just…”

A bright smile flashed in his mind. A girl with blonde hair, pale-skin, and overalls that she always wore. Playing in the mud, or in the sand, all of those memories didn’t play but only flashed.

“I can’t lose anymore. I can’t.”

Balling his left hand, he had his fingers pushed deep into his own skin. It wasn’t enough for blood to be drawn, but enough for his own knuckles to creak.

‘No matter what, I can’t lose.’

________________________________________________________________________

(Laurinius 14, 56 / 4:26PM)

Streaks of blood stained the stone walls.

Both agents, clad in black, walked on top of the rustic floor with death assaulting their noses. Chains and shackles pinned to the walls, the corners were darkened, with pieces of marrow littering the rust.

‘Locked door. I think that’s it.’ thought Eren.

Having a desert eagle on his right hand, Eren had his left held a bronze key. Briggs held no weapons, with only his knuckles being balled into fists. Memories from prior began to play.

“That’s them.”

Slamming both the driver and passenger doors, the two agents sprinted toward the scene. Bodies; half conscious, half dead, littered the area that was plagued with wooden cabins. Long in length, small in width, they looked like military barracks from a distance.

Briggs and Eren reached one of the agents, or rather, the leader of the FUC. Having a hair bun and goatee, his slacks and tuxedo made him well-mannered and slick. But most of all, he wore a cross necklace around his neck.

“Spartan Gabriel sir!”

Waving at them from afar, Gabriel turned to see two agents rushing toward him. Once they reached him, their lungs squeezed the air out of their lungs, to which thickened like a motor.

“You two made it. At long last.”

“Did you receive the intel we gathered on our way here?”

“Indeed. You agents did well tracking them down. Now all that’s left is to scout these cabins.”

All around the camp were nothing but cabins. Gabriel scratched his cheek, and nudged at the group to follow him. With many more agents circling the place, they all waited for Gabriel’s orders.

“But be warned, gentlemen. Los Cerdos de Ojos Negros members are not to be shown mercy. Even I would think twice in welcoming forgiveness.”

In the center of the camp, was a battalion of hostages all tied with rope. Tightened around their ankles, their wrists, and even their mouths, the only thing they could move was their eyeballs. Gabriel walked toward a random member, his eyes mellowed in darkness.

“You there. Speak.”

“I-I’m just a gunrunner! I-I swear!”

“That’s not what I want to hear.”

In the blink of an eye, the man’s throat clogged with gurgles.

Wrapping a hand around his throat, Gabriel didn’t utter a smile, but a frown. Raising him up to his level, he had each finger piercing into his airways. The man’s eyes rolled into the back of his head.

“These cabins. What do they hold?”

Pulling his fingers away, it left the man to breathe in cruelly. In and out, each pant of breath crackled his vocals. Having no choice but to face forward, face the spartan with eyes blurring white, it took several seconds to indulge in air.

“There… gasps… they’re for the children.”

“Children eh? What do you guys do to them?”

“I’m only a gunrunner…gasps… I transport kids…gasps… that’s all I do.”

Gabriel locked his eyes on the man. Staring right into his soul, it was a form of intimidation that even the agents took a step back from. The man wiggled softly, and he gulped, before turning his eyes to the left.

“I-I have a key. W-We all do. We all have keys.”

“What for?”

“It’s for the secret rooms. T-They lock special kids in there. Men higher than gunrunners, than us, ask for permission to use them.”

Many of the agents began to glare. Feeling the very metal and wood creak, screech even, what the man said couldn't be ignored. Gabriel didn’t drop his stare, not even for a second.

“Please… I don’t want to die.”

The wind began to rustle the bottom of his tuxedo. Pieces of loose clothing flapping as well, Gabriel exhaled air out of his nose. With empty lungs, he looked at the ground with a tilted down angle.

“Yet you let evil reign. From what I can hear, you only allowed such acts to be committed.”

—They all heard a snap.—

Waking them all up, the man went limb; completely. His head bobbing to the side, Gabriel dropped the man, with the body motionless and full of death. Pulling back his hand, he looked at each member who widened their eyes in fear, while raising a hand up high.

“Search every man’s pockets! If you find any keys, use them to locate any kids worth saving!”

Turning around, Gabriel glanced at each agent who stood with straightened backs. Tightening hands, digging fingers, they all were ready to dish out justice. For the two agents who arrive, Gabriel especially stared at Eren and Briggs.

“But if they are far from saved… dish out the choice that suits you best…”

Back to the present.

Eren squeezed the bronze key, to which coated his palm in that thickish color. Depending on what crimes they committed, those members were either pushed into penitentiaries, or put to death. Very rarely where cartel members would be put to death, but the option was on the table.

They reached that metal door. Casted in thick iron metal, the handle itself was none other than a vault handle. Taking one step forward, both men felt their pores open up, leaving sweat to riddle down their bodies.

“Eren. Open it.”

Gulping, Eren pushed the key into the hole, and they heard a click. Twisting the key to the right, he moved his hands toward the circular handle, and spun it left. Hearing the rattling of chains, a hiss of air burst from the wall’s edges. The door began opening. Taking two steps back, Eren tightened his grip on his desert eagle. Once the door was finally unveiled, everything in their body froze to the chilling air. Pitch black wallowed the dungeon-like room.

They heard footsteps. To the left of them, the windows led the sun’s rays to enter through. Feeling it bristle against their cheeks, more bare feet slapped the ground. Waiting, listening, the seconds acted like a time prison for…

—They saw a girl.—

“Ha…”

Her face was clean, and her body glowed amidst the darkened dungeon. Five meters, four meters, three meters, her bare feet continued to slap against the floor. Wearing a nightgown, it covered down to her ankles, while a neutral face plastered forward. Two meters, one meter. She was safe, she was untouched. She stopped at the edge, right where the sun finally glowed on her.

“Emilia…”

Walking with hanging arms, Briggs loosened his hands, and felt his throat jump with each breath. As soon as he reached her, he extended his arms and pulled her in. Clutching her tightly, his chin burrowed onto her shoulder. Bringing his lips to form a quivering smile, the warmness of the sun only kept him close.

“I love you…”

Eren darkened his face, and tilted his head for the fedora to cover his eyes. His whole hand trembled in running static, leaving his own gun to pinch him. Briggs felt his shoulder be tugged.

“Oh Briggs.”

The clouds above began to block the sun.

Their warmth began to fade, and he felt his own body grow cold. His fingers rubbed her back, but that warmth faded. It turned colder, cold enough to pull his own head back. No smile dawned on her face.

As if denial had overwritten his senses, reality finally began to take over. She was there, but her pale skin, the body heat they shared…

“No…”

—She looked lifeless.—

Staring blankly into the abyss, her mouth hung open. Head to toe, scars engraved her body, from whips to shrapnels lodged inside. The cloth she wore was thin, leaving no warmth to insulate herself. He choked on his own breath.

“No, please…”

Half of her head was scalped, with rivers of dried blood stained on her temples. A low breathless wheeze scraped her parched throat.

“No no no…”

The only thing he could do was bite his lower lip. Allowing blood to wallow down, he moved his hands to her shoulders. Dirt and old blood latched deep into her skin.

“What did they do to you, ah…”

Shaking her once, a long tear flowed from his right eye. He didn’t care whether it stalled on his chin, or swept down his neck. His lips crackling, jumping, another tear rolled from his other cheek.

“I-I tried to find you… I-I-I did.”

Hugging her body once more, he tried to feel that same warmth. It was like hugging ice. Moving his hands up to her cheeks, his thumbs traced her cheekbones, which creased with open scars. He pulled his head back, and looked straight at her.

“Emilia… please say something.”

Her breathing only worsened in sound, like hearing a chain smoker take breath. His fingers only worsening in digging, he hissed the air through the center of his lips.

“Hey, say something, Emilia?”

Dark red pulsated from his own eyes. Choking on his own words in intervals, he forced it out through colliding vocals.

“It’s me Emilia! It’s me! I-I-It’s m-me!”

But his words deafened around him. Long streaks of tears ran from his eyes, with the crevices of his eyes clustered in flakes. Placing his forehead on hers, it was soft, it was nimble; yet there was nothing he could do.

“Please, please… please.”

Eren sulked with a shadowed face.

Both of his hands hung, with his right continuing to tingle in that pinching sensation. He didn’t want to feel such a thing he held, such a thing that he bestowed his eyes with. Briggs turned to him. Eren saw a face he could never get rid of, not until the day he’d die.

“I don’t know what to do… please Eren, you got to—”

—He extended his right hand, which held the Desert Eagle.—

Having it low, the gun hovered right near Brigg’s right shoulder. Tightening his hold on Emilia, he kept his eyes from drawing out more tears. His face scrunched, wrinkled, pruned to a raisin as he shook his head.

“No… don’t please.”

“I’m sorry Briggs.”

He knew what it was best, best for the girl who was beyond saving. Glints of water reflected in his eyes, to which he took a step back.

“It’s… she’s gonna be okay.”

He bent down to lower the gun to the ground. Right beside his right leg, Briggs kept his eyes on the unholy piece of metal, while Eren made his exit. His head tilted low, he didn’t want to see any more. So did Briggs, yet he moved his eyes back toward her. She was in pain; too much pain.

“I’m so sorry.”

His left hand gripped her shoulder, and his right carried something metallic. He couldn’t look, but his fingers memorized the layout. He couldn’t breathe, yet could draw words from a crackled throat.

“I-I’m so sorry…”

Giving her one last hug, he tried to bring in more warmth to a dying body. Hearing more of her wheezes, a broken throat that collapsed onto itself, he moved the gun so that the barrel aimed—

Right at her heart.

“I love you so, so, much.”

His pointer finger scratched the side, yet he could not rub it against the trigger. His arm growing weak, numb even, he pushed her forehead into his chest. Keeping her there, he moved his hand toward the back of her head. He tucked her head in so he couldn’t hear her breath. The barrel digging into the cloth, all he had to do was pull that trigger.

‘O-Oh God.’

He looked up at the ceiling, which blocked him from calling upon the heavens. Slowly and erratically, he laid that jumping finger right at the surface.

‘D-Don’t make me pull that trigger…’

He kept his eyes right on her scalped head. He couldn’t bear to lay eyes on metal, with his hand ready to shoot. Wheezing thundered out of his throat, and veins scoured around the outside of his pupils. Each inhale of air, each intake of oxygen, worsened the dryness of his parched throat.

“Ha… ha… ah…”

He closed his eyes, and drained all tears. He breathed in, held it in, and allowed that last breath to satisfy his chest. He was ready. He—

—“Daddy? Is that you?”—

Silence filled the empty room; except for that voice. Opening his eyes, he looked down to see she still remained motionless.

A dark cloud began to brew in his soul. Wallowing, flickering, playing; it sent all his body to submit a chilling shiver. He couldn’t cry any more. Empty lungs, low-trotting eyes, he angled his head so that he stared forward, right into the darkened room. The abyss waited for him, the darkness welcomed him… the world turned black; and his gun was steady.

Then a gunshot followed.