Bryan was already seething with hot wrath. How could his general even think that he'd want to hear about any territory and political bullshit when all he was trying to do was aimed at giving his life meaning? For a second, he felt stupid for even picking the call in the first place. It didn't make any sense to talk about the territory when his mind kept playing back to Uncle William's words and that of Josiah. “Hello, are you there?" Ben's voice came through the speaker, dragging him from his intense thoughts. “Stop!" He snapped suddenly, without any warning. “I've had enough of this bullshit!" He said with a fierce look. "Come up, what are you talking about!” Ben asked as his voice rose. Bryan told him that he had no interest in talking politics. He was sick and tired or running in circles. “What I need right now is a fucking compass! I need someone, something, anything, to take me to where my past is. I want to know what I am, who I am, what went wrong,” he bit out, "Not some pol
Bryan quickly tried to regain composure from the information that had just shaken him. If someone else was the supreme warlord, then it meant that the council had convened to terminate his own title and somehow found someone else worthy of such ordination. "Last time I checked, there was no one who could even compete with me. No one was worth being the supreme master, talk more of the supreme warlord. Had they suddenly dropped their standard?" He asked out loud but to no one in particular.He couldn't believe it. He was the best, the greatest, the supreme. No one could match his skills, his strategy, his leadership. He was the one who had been chosen, who had been destined for greatness.Who could even replace him? Who was worthy of such a title, the supreme warlord? Bryan snickered, wondering who could even stand behind him, he was second to none. There was no one he could think of that was even half the man he was. All his generals needed a lesson on night and courage. They couldn't
After a few minutes of driving through the busy streets of the city, he went easy on the brakes as he turned to the quiet suburban area. Peterson was always one for his space and privacy and perhaps one could say that he was the most secretive member of the team. When he arrived at Peterson's place, he met with his son, Chad just as he rang the doorbell and the maid allowed him in. “Hey, boy." Bryan said as he stepped into the house. Chad looked at him oddly and then for a second, recognition flashed in his eyes and he stepped aside. “Mr Bryan," he said with a thin voice. Bryan gave him a slight nod and moved into the living room, taking the plush seat that he was offered. “We weren't expecting such an important guest," Chad said with a smile that was obviously as fake as the Picasso painting on the wall. “I never planned to pay the visit either,” Bryan replied. Chad was eager to show him around and also asked to serve him breakfast and a cup of coffee. But Bryan was already gett
Bryan staggered back a little, struggling to process the jarring change in Jenkins’ voice. The old man he had known was frail, his voice barely rising above a whisper. Yet, the voice on the phone now was strong and assertive, unrecognizable as Jenkins'. He glanced around, half-expecting to see the old man materialize in front of him, but there was nothing—just the lingering sound of his own breathing and the hum of the city around him."Jenkins?" Bryan asked again, his voice edged with uncertainty. He wanted to be sure he wasn’t speaking to someone else, someone who had somehow gotten hold of Jenkins’ phone. His skepticism was palpable, though he hoped it wasn’t the case.“It’s me, Bryan. You said I should call you right? You did give me your card,” the voice on the line said. Bryan could almost hear the confidence emanating from the speaker. It was a tone of authority that starkly contrasted with the frailty he had grown accustomed to.“You sound different,” Bryan said, his laugh com
Bryan drove like the devil was on his tail, arriving at the classic bar Jenkins had picked out for their meeting. It was a beautiful garden bar just outside of town. As Bryan killed the engine, he pulled on his coat and baseball cap, trying his best at disguise before stepping into the place.**The garden bar was indeed a fitting spot for Jenkins, considering his love for flowers. Just as Bryan looked to the left, he saw the old man's hand guiding him to a corner table. Bryan walked over and shook his head in disbelief."I was hoping you only sounded different, but you look different too," Bryan said.Jenkins was dressed in a thick fur coat and a hat. He nursed a cup of coffee with his gloved hands."Sit down, boy. I have to be quick," Jenkins said.Bryan noticed that gone was Jenkins' stammering and broken words. He spoke fluently now, almost as if nothing had ever been wrong with him. Bryan sat down, looking at him curiously."You're running out of time. Your brother and uncle have
That night, Bryan woke up with a jerk. The cold sweat on his forehead same as the ice creeping down his spine. He had just had the weirdest dream. Or was it a dream? He couldn't tell. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, feeling the cool wooden floor beneath his feet. He needed water, something to qunwch his dry throat that felt like parchment paper. Yawning, he padded softly with bare feet to the kitchen, he moved through the darkened hallway, the silence of the night making his soft footfalls resound. The house was as dark as his thoughts. Speaking of thoughts, Bryan hadn't been able to keep his mind blank since the incident with Jenkins. Neither had he been able to wrap his head around all that the old man had told him. But somehow it made perfect sense. The odd stares, the way his aunt hated him but somehow loved his brother, it all made sense somehow. As he reached the kitchen, he flipped on the light and blinked against the sudden brightness. He headed for the cabinet
When he arrived at Freda's house, he could hear raised voices from inside. He stormed in to find Claire and Freda in a heated argument."Get out of here, Bryan," Freda snapped. "This is between me and my daughter."Bryan stood his ground. "I know everything, Freda. There's no need to hide it anymore."Claire turned to him, eyes wide with shock and fear. "Bryan, please don't bring it up. If Grandfather Maxwell finds out what I've done..."Bryan took a deep breath, his resolve strengthening. "I'll confront the situation, Claire."Freda laughed derisively, her voice dripping with contempt. "You think you can convince Maxwell to forgive her? She’ll always be under my control."Bryan's eyes blazed with determination. "We'll see about that at the family gathering this weekend."Freda's expression turned from contempt to anger. "You have no idea what you're dealing with, Bryan. Claire made her choices, and now she has to live with them."Bryan stepped closer, his voice low and fierce. "She m
The cool water cascaded gently on Bryan and his wife, Claire Alfredo. Her soft hands roamed over his chest as she washed him, her hands a little hold, exploring his ridges and planes. "When are you going to wake up and make me a complete woman?" She whispered to him gently. But Bryan's eyes were blank, his face stoic, his lips parted in an awkward angle. Claire sighed as she looked at her husband's face and realized that he still couldn't hear her. "What on earth happened to you, Bryan?" She asked rhetorically. It wasn't like he could hear her, no, he was mute and couldn't speak since he'd been brought back from war six months ago. All that she was left with was a shadow of the man she once loved. Claire looked keenly at him, he was still as unresponsive as ever and she shyly ran her hands over his crotch as she applied the scented soap all over him. She couldn't believe that she was a married virgin. Four years ago, Bryan had been the best thing to have ever happened to her. He w