Never before had a beer been such a necessity for Edward as it was when he returned to Morth City. He left Roycen's house as soon as forensics showed up, leaving behind a show of blood and corruption, one that he wished to run away from.
He sipped from his long, tall glass as he sat at a local bar, where he had stopped to ponder before returning to the station with his case-winning, newly acquired evidence. He wanted to drown himself in the abyss that was the bottom of a booze bottle. Surrounding him was the racket of drunk, sleazy men and young, hormonal girls. Edward looked at them, seeing girls in short jeans and revealing shirts, talking to men who were old enough to be their fathers, flirting with them, playing with their hair and standing in poses that would make any man's head spin. He wondered which ones were prostitutes, in dire need of money for another line of that purple Vex, and which ones were simply home-wrecked girls, in dire need of love and warmth.
That made Edward reminisce about his mother. She left him and his father when he was only 10 years old, running away with another man. Edward's father always claimed that he wasn’t surprised by that outcome, yet it didn’t stop him from spiraling into a deep depression phase that never seemed to truly end, even on his death bed. Growing up, Edward came to realize that his father might have been the person to know best what injustice feels like. The departure of Edward's mother was only the start for his father, as along his lengthy career as a police officer, he witnessed and suffered acts of injustice that slowly seeped into the cracks in his mind, expanding and deepening them. He always fought and sued for justice, by as the years went by, he slowly stopped doing that and eventually he lost all hope for his country.
By his final days, Edward's father seemed like a shell of a man, a living corpse forced to walk in a world it didn’t wish to be in any longer. Deep inside, Edward found solace in his father's passing, knowing that his old man might have finally found the peace he never got to have in his life.
Edward took another sip from drink and, in his mind, raised a toast to his late father.
His phone rang in his pocket. It was Derlick. He fought with the idea of ignoring up the call. He wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone, even if it was his best friend, yet eventually, he answered the call, unsure what led him to the decision.
"Hey, man, I just heard what happened at Roycen's place. Are you okay?" Derlick said.
"Yeah, I'm all right."
"Well, where are you?"
"I'm at that bar on Jenkin Avenue."
"Oh. Well, did you get anything useful from Roycen at least?"
Edward took the little flash drive from his pocket and took a long stare at it. "I got exactly what I needed. A copy of the missing evidence."
"Holy shit, are you kidding me? That's awesome! This is going to take Blackburn down for good!"
"Yeah..." Edward sounded defeated. He couldn't help but think about how that little thing got Roycen and his wife killed. He was so scared... If it wasn't for fucking Dillard...
"You okay there, Edward?"
"What? Oh, y-yeah—"
"You know what, how about you wait there and I come down to share a beer with you?"
"Oh," Derlick's offer took him by surprise at first. "Yeah, sure, I guess. I'll be here." A beer with a friend might be the best thing for me right now.
He hung up the call and went back to staring at the foamy top of his chestnut colored drink.
So who's to blame for this mess? He started thinking. If it weren't for Dillard, Roycen might have never gone undercover, and yet it was Blackburn's soldiers who gunned down Roycen and his wife. As far as I'm concerned, they're both despicable and deserve to be punished. But for now, I can only deal with Blackburn. I couldn’t touch Dillard if I wanted to. God, I don't even wish to think about what will happen to Roycen's two kids now. He sunk his lips in his beverage. He hoped to rid himself of further depressing thoughts about that matter, yet he was in no condition to embrace denial. So much death and corruption... I can see why my father never liked his job on the force, yet he was the most motivated one there about fighting such things.
During the next 20 minutes, Edward learned that escaping his thoughts was impossible and that only the alcohol was there to comfort him. Once he saw Derlick entering the bar, his hope for a better state of mind was renewed.
"I'll have what he's having," Derlick said to the bartender while pointing at Edward and sitting next to him. "Man, you look like shit," Derlick greeted him with utmost sincerity.
"He didn’t want to do it, Derlick," said Edward as he stared at what little there was left of his drink.
"Who? What are you talking about?"
"Roycen. Dillard knew he has heavily in debt so he seduced him with a lot of money to go undercover."
"Holy shit. Did Roycen tell you that?"
"Yeah, minutes before he was shot to death, along with his poor wife."
"I can't believe it…" Derlick received his drink and hurried to take a big gulp out of it. "Well, what are you going to do now? I mean, now that you know that, are you going to tell Dillard—?"
"I'm not going to tell him shit. That won't get me anywhere."
"Except for unemployment," Derlick smirked.
"This isn’t funny, Derlick!" Edward snapped. "Two good people died today, and for what? For this!" He placed the flash drive on the table.
"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, you're right."
"I'm sick of this place. No one ever gets what they deserve around here. Good people die or live poorly while fucking crime lords feast at their expense. It's wrong!"
"Look, I know that things look a bit grim in this country, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up—"
"Give up? Who's giving up? My father never gave up in all his years in service, why would I give up? I'm going to crush all of them. Blackburn. Mallistrom. Trife," he muttered their names with every hateful bone in his body, "Dillard…" The last one was the most hated.
"Really? You're going to take them all down by yourself?" Derlick smirked again. Edward chose to finish his drink instead of replying. "Alright, I think it's time we head back to the station."
"Yeah, alright," Edward reluctantly agreed. Derlick finished the remainder of his beer in one gulp and the two left the bar, leaving some cash on the counter.
They started heading on foot to their cars. The cold air and dark skies accompanied the two on their walk. No soul was on the streets other than them. Edward found the cold weather to be fitting for some reason.
"Hey, can I see that flash drive?" Derlick asked. Edward handed him the valuable evidence without saying a word. "Man… so much blood and devastation for such a small thing."
"Yeah," Edward refused to add anything further to his reply.
The two were just passing by a dark alley when Derlick stopped, and Edward with him. "Edward, how long have we been friends?"
"A year or so, I think. Why?"
"Oh, man…" Derlick made a long sigh, his face facing the floor.
"What is it?" Edward asked.
"I just want you to know… this is going to hurt me more than it'll hurt you," Derlick said and delivered a fast, yet powerful punch to Edward, sending him into the dark alley with a cry of pain.
Edward's head spun as he tried to gather his senses together. He lay on his back in that alley, staring at the man he had called a friend only a minute ago. "What the fuck?" Edward asked while writhing in pain.
"I'm sorry, Edward," Derlick said, drawing his pistol and aiming it at Edward. "But I never thought Roycen would actually have something like this in his possession."
"You… You're helping Blackburn? Why?!" Edward's voice rose. Derlick remained silent, uncomfortable with the question, instead looking at the flash drive in his left hand, while still pointing the gun with his right. "Tell me!" Edward urged him. "Why the fuck are you working with Blackburn?"
"I'm not. I'm working with Dillard."
"Dillard? What—?"
"When Charles Blackburn deserted from the military and formed Code Sanguinary 14 years ago, he had enough power and motivation to actually pose a great threat to the government, but we all know that over the years their number of his men dwindled, and their rebellious activities became so few that you barely hear about them anymore. However, one thing Blackburn always had enough of is money. His gun trading business was a sure income that kept his organization alive all these years. That's why when President Conrad gave the order to take Blackburn down, Dillard had other plans. Charles Blackburn has refused to play the same game the rest of the mob gangs have been playing for years. His soldiers have been killed and prosecuted many times, and yet he refused to buy protection from Dillard time and again."
"Oh, God…" Edward had already figured out the rest.
"This whole case was a farce. Blackburn was never supposed to go to jail."
"The charges... The trial... Everything was just a threat. A show of power. A message to Blackburn."
"Play the game and fill my pockets or get fucked."
"B-But the president—"
"Knows that we had the misfortune of losing our key evidence, and will later hear from Dillard how much money and time were spent on this case, which will convince him to let the matter go instead of spending that same amount again."
"Then Roycen…"
"Was, unfortunately, a pawn in Dillard's little plot."
"You motherfucker!" Edward tried to get up, hoping to storm the wretched person he once called his best friend, but Derlick made sure to keep him at bay. "Don't you fucking move, Edward." He inched closer with his gun.
Edward felt defeated. After everything he just went through, getting shot by his treacherous friend seemed like the cherry on the top of a bleak reality. "Why, Derlick?" he wanted to know.
"Money makes the world spin, Edward," he said the same words he did at the convenience store in Ussermis.
"Money makes the world rot." Edward uttered back the same reply he had back then as well.
"Look, the only reason Dillard allowed you to go on this witch hunt against Blackburn was because he was certain you wouldn’t find anything. No one planned on killing you."
"Well, I guess it's just my shitty luck, then."
"You're a good cop, Edward, the only one there is. I'll give you that."
"And you're a backstabbing fuck. You've been dealing with Dillard behind my back all this time. I guess you're also the one who took the evidence in the first place. That’s why you volunteered to search through the entry logs of the evidence room. You didn’t want me to see your name there."
"A smart cop, too."
"Too smart for my own good, eh?" Derlick remained silent on that question.
He dropped the flash drive on the ground and smashed it with his leg, destroying the only thing that could have indicted Charles Blackburn. At that moment, Edward decided to take his chances and drew his gun from its holster, in the hope that Derlick's momentary focus on the flash drive would give him the opportunity to turn the table. Derlick noticed Edward’s attempt, but a second too late. The gun had already fired, its loud blast echoing through the streets. It was a straight shot to the head. Derlick's now-lifeless body fell on its back, with the gun still clutched in his hand.
Edward got up and looked at the dead traitor before him, broken pieces of the crucial flash drive at his feet. All he wanted was to enforce the law and bring punishment to those who deserved it, and as a result, he had lost his best and only friend and was denied of any justice, for there could be none of that in Alataria.
