Myriadviper42
Fulcrum Agent
- Joined
- Feb 14, 2010
- Location
- Control
That really WAS the most fun I've had writing this so far because it really got to the good stuff. I'm really enjoying writing this story. Anyone who's read my stories knows that there's probably going to be major twists among the way. I've already hinted a bit that there are going to be twists, and I've also hinted at the themes behind them. If one of you could actually guess correctly what that was...well, I'd REALLY be impressed. With this chapter, we are officially a third through the book!
Chapter 11
I pull out my gun at the figure. He appears to be middle-aged, with a pale complexion and long dark hair. He is wiry and tall, with vibrant gray-blue eyes. He wears a trench coat and has a notebook tucked under his arm. He has a neutral expression on his face, and seems to not care that I just pulled out a gun at him. "Who are you?" I demand, taking an authoritarian tone with him. Daren had taught me how to use your voice in these types of situations in order to make a person back down. If you show weakness, if you show that you're nervous, they know you aren't really all that capable. "Are you with Prophet?"
"No," he says calmly, almost monotonously. "I am not a part of Prophet. However, I know of them and their exploits. It's quite interesting, really...they weren't meant to turn out the way they did."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, gun still pointed at him.
"I was there. When you were blackmailed by Slater. I watched him fight Malcolm, who had been planning to reveal himself to you at that time. And then again, when you had been captured by Enforcer Katherine Davidson."
Something clicks. "You set off the grenade?"
He shrugs. "Irrelevant. What matters is that I was there, and that time you caught a glimpse of me. I thought you would've told someone...but I guess I was mistaken."
My grip falters a bit. "I don't...trust them completely."
"You're going to have to."
"How...how do you know all this? If you're not with Prophet, does that mean you're with Malcolm?"
His lip curls up slightly in an amused smile. "No. It's not always one or the other, Daniel. I came to you because I need you to deliver a message."
"A message? To who?"
I hear running, someone is coming towards us. His eyes meet mine, and I find it hard to meet that luminescent gaze. "Tell Malcolm that Prometheus says hello."
He slips into the shadows and seemingly vanishes. "Daniel!" Adamaris is at the end of the alley. He runs towards me. "Sorry, Gardner got away. I'm glad to see you're alright. Is your brother..." He draws a finger across his throat inquisitively.
I shake my head no. "No. He's not dead. I think he must have fled." Madeline and Daren join us.
"We killed all the Prophet agents in the building except Gardner and your brother," Daren says, out of breath. "I saw him escape into the crowd. He must not have wanted to face you any more. Oh, and, by the way, Elijah Sanford wants to see us. I don't think it's good. We had a lot of casualties...or at least you and Madeline did." He doesn't sound snide about it, just tired and accepting of it. We walk through the streets and see Elijah Sanford standing on a street corner, the wind whipping his hair around.
"We lost a lot of men today," he says calmly, a little too calmly. "But they lost a lot of men as well. I'm not sure how to assess your performance. I'm gonna leave judgment to Malcolm and Astrid. Mission's over. We did some damage. Now you're going back to Headquarters. Understood?"
We all nod glumly. Our second mission wasn't a total failure, but it certainly wasn't a shining success either. When we get back into the car, my mind drifts back to the man in the trench coat. Prometheus. What the hell was his deal? He acted like he knew a lot, but he didn't seem to be associated with Malcolm or Prophet. Maybe Malcolm will have some clue as to what it is. I decide not to tell my teammates. They seem to have a lot on their chest, especially Madeline. She looks paler than normal and still in shock. I guess Gardner bringing back those memories...didn't do her any good. Daren drives, with Madeline in the shotgun seat, leaving Adamaris and I in the back. I decide to ask him something. I lean forward a bit and clear my throat.
"Adamaris...I have a question for you."
His eyes turn to me and he nods, smiling. "Fire away, my friend."
"Gardner said that you dated a Prophet agent. Could you...elaborate? If you want to? If you don't want to I under-"
"No, no, I want to," he says, looking a bit sad. "I probably should have told you before. Back in Spain, I was one of the most successful soccer players in the world. I was popular, I was wealthy, I thought I had it made. I fell in love with a girl and thought she loved me back." He pauses, taking a gulp like he's swallowing down bile. He sounds bitter, more bitter than I've ever heard him. "I was planning to propose to her. Then, she asked to meet a friend of mine, a wealthy and important individual who was a bit of a recluse and only showed himself to close friends. We went to dinner, and then she started hitting on the other guy. I noticed and called her out on this, and we ended up fighting in the poor man's house. She told me to leave, and that she was breaking up with me. I assumed she'd just dated me to get close to the other man. I started drinking, and fell into a low life. I quit sports. One day, a man named Malcolm came into the bar and introduced himself to me. He revealed that the woman who left me had actually abducted the other man after I'd left, that he was some kind of scientist or something. He explained Prophet to me. I was furious that I'd been an unwitting part of it, and I vowed revenge. I still haven't found her."
He looks downward with saddened eyes and I pat him on the shoulder. "You'll find her. I know you will."
He smiles. "Thanks, Dan." We pull up at the office building that is over Headquarters, and we move through the lobby to the elevator. Madeline punches in the elevator door combination, and the elevator goes downwards. It opens at the familiar Headquarters, and I see Malcolm looking at his watch before looking up at us and running over to us. He looks worried and haggard.
"What happened out there, people?" he asks hurriedly.
"We killed all of them, but Byrne and Gardner got away," Daren says calmly, and Malcolm purses his lips a bit.
"That is unfortunate, but not a real problem. I've received a call from someone. He says he wants to meet me."
I perk up a bit at this. "Did he say who?"
"He's a Prophet agent and on his deathbed, he wants to tell me everything that's going on because Trueman down there will only tell me what he wants to. I have a feeling that even if we were to torture him he would still only tell us what he wants to. So this is kind of an important event."
"Oh."
He raises an eyebrow. "Were you expecting someone different, Daniel?"
I clear my throat. "Well...you see...in the alleyway...someone appeared to me. He told me to give you a message."
That gets Malcolm's attention. "Oh? What did he say?"
I breathe in and out once. "He said that...'Prometheus says hello.'"
He looks at me in slight shock. "Prometheus?"
I nod, a bit confused as to his reaction. What's with him? It's like he's seen a ghost. Adamaris, Daren, and Madeline all look around confusedly. Malcolm looks around a bit nervously before responding. "Prometheus...is an enigma. He's related to Prophet somehow but isn't a part of him. He was known as the Note Taker by Prophet. You see...I was...once a part of Prophet, but none of them trusted me because he had told stuff to me, and I could never understand why. That led to me trying to undo Prophet from the inside. I felt as though something was being kept secret from me...and I was determined to find out. I was nearly killed, and swore revenge."
All five of us stand there awkwardly. Malcolm was a part of Prophet? Well, it makes sense now why he seemed to know so much about it! And here I was, thinking he'd betrayed us. So if Malcolm doesn't know who he is, but the other people in Prophet had, then that must mean...I get a moment of realization. "I need to talk to someone," I say, pushing through and running to the elevator. I press down and get off at the prison floor. I run down the hallway and unlock the door to Marcus Trueman's cell. I walk inside and close the door behind me. He sits there, twiddling his thumbs and looking bored.
"Do you have my tea?" he asks casually. I sit down across from him, and I see Malcolm and Adamaris standing outside, not sure what I'm doing. I tilt my head slightly in response.
"I suppose that's a no," he says calmly, suppressing a yawn with his fingertips.
"Who is Prometheus?" I ask calmly.
His eyes meet mine. "The titan who gave fire to man? Greek mythology is a bit of a no-brainer for me. Is history class over yet?"
"You know exactly what I mean," I say threateningly.
He chuckles. "You sound like your brother when you say that. I've watched him interrogate many a prisoner before his incarceration. You probably won't stoop to his methods, though."
"I wouldn't be too sure," I say coldly. "You know exactly who Prometheus is, and you're going to tell me. I'll have you know I've lost any amount of patience or sympathy today. I've learned about how you've ruined two of my friends' lives. So, while you're at it, why were Madeline Black's parents so important that you had to kill them?"
"Will you kill me if I don't answer you? That's what I would do. Always another person you could interrogate. Personally, timor mortis conturbat me. But that's just me."
I look at him in confusion, but he does not elaborate. "Who is Prometheus?" You're going to tell me now, understood?"
He chuckles. "You remind me of myself once. But in the end, Tu fui ego eris."
"Stop speaking in Latin!" I yell at him. "Tell me what I need to know!"
He laughs, and Malcolm enters the room and pulls me out. "That's enough, Daniel. You aren't going to get anything out of him." I'm pulled into the corridor and Malcolm tries to soothe me. "We'll look into the Prometheus matter. Just wait a bit. I understand your impatience and confusion...we just need to wait."
He lets go and I calm down a bit. I head upstairs and I go to my bunk, and close my eyes. I realize that there is time. There is time to take down Prophet. No rush. No rush...I clench my fists. Prophet has ruined so many lives. And now there's a chance to find out why. My mind drifts to the bombs. Prophet had been diffusing them. An entirely out-of-character and odd move for them. Why would they do that? For what reason? Who is Prometheus? What is his place in all this? There are so many questions, there are so few answers. It's extremely frustrating. But in the end, the truth will come out. It has to, that is why it is the truth. I take up my time by looking through Prophet-related files, and see terrible event after terrible event. I find something different from the rest and look curiously at it.
It's a poem, marked as classified.
To Malcolm Waters,
Humble beginnings become corrupt
Prophets rise and fall with the tide
In the end, what will happen will happen
They'll cast you out, set you aside
It wasn't meant to end like this
It wasn't meant to begin
He knows of me and why I am
You're expendable in the end
So heed this warning
An era is dawning
That they won't let you see
I do not speak of
Ifs or mights
I speak of what will be
Prometheus
***
The sharp-dressed man stepped into the hospital waiting room with a confident stride, and immediately went to the desk. "I'm here to visit Mr. Zachary Stone." The desk lady didn't even look up from her work.
"Your name?"
"Slater. Joseph Slater."
"Mr. Slater, do you know Mr. Stone personally?"
"We...work together."
"Alright. You may go to see him." Slater gave her a smile before going through the door. He looked for the room number for some time before finding the correct one. He entered and felt the silenced gun in his pocket. Just in case. He opened the door to see the old man lying on the bed. He started when he saw Slater, but Slater gave him the calm-down sign.
"It's just me. Just checking in on you."
"We all know I'm dead," he croaked. "Cancer has done me in in the end, I suppose...you're not here to tidy up loose ends?"
Slater raised an eyebrow. "Would there be any reason to?"
"N-No..."
Slater smiled like a snake. "Good. We're just here to say hello, and our final goodbyes. You want a glass of water?"
The old man eyed him suspiciously. "Do I? How should I know you didn't poison it?"
Slater moved over to the sink and poured the water in, making a show of doing it with his back turned. He turned back around to the old man and took a huge gulp of it. With his tongue, he removed the pill from in between his teeth and it dissolved into the water. He placed it on the dying man's bedside table. With a trembling hand, he grabbed it and took a drink of it. Slater smiled. "You now officially have...five minutes left."
"I"m not an idiot," the old man snapped. "You kept the pill inside your mouth, right? I've been trained to resist it since I was twenty. It won't do anything to me."
Slater chuckled. "That's where you're wrong, old man. This is new, designed by Theodore Malik himself. It'll kill you and all the nurses will think is that you finally kicked the bucket. Malcolm will be here any minute, right? Well, I'll make sure he gets his. Goodbye for the last time, old friend."
He turned around and started leaving when the old man spoke up. "You've changed a lot, Joseph. I remember when we found you as a pitiful wretch on the street. Left out in the rain, to starve. You were different from the rest, though. You had a spark of ambition. Maybe it was because you'd started out with the high life. You always held the ambitions, and here you are now, twenty years later, a cold-blooded attack dog of Marcus Trueman!"
"Careful, old man, you'll give yourself a heart attack," Slater said acidly. "I have changed-for the better. I have power, I have control."
"Prophet wasn't always about control," the old man said quietly, and then his face started turning blue. "Remember that, Joseph. You weren't always a killer." With that, he breathed his last. Slater looked around, and felt an odd, light-headed feeling inside him, dizzy of sorts. The sky outside was cloudy, and he could hear thunder in the distance. Rain again, again, and again. He hated rain, and he hated this man for bringing back memories of a time of his life he never wanted to revisit again. He straightened his suit, and walked out, taking a last glance at his former mentor before exiting the building. The rain fell on him and he looked upwards towards the sky. He fled. Malcolm rounded the corner and walked into the building, checking in to see Stone. As he rounded the corner and opened the door, his eyes found the cold dead body of one of their only leads who would cooperate, and his face fell.
Outside, Slater felt an unfamiliar emotion in his chest.
He later realized it was sadness.
Chapter 11
I pull out my gun at the figure. He appears to be middle-aged, with a pale complexion and long dark hair. He is wiry and tall, with vibrant gray-blue eyes. He wears a trench coat and has a notebook tucked under his arm. He has a neutral expression on his face, and seems to not care that I just pulled out a gun at him. "Who are you?" I demand, taking an authoritarian tone with him. Daren had taught me how to use your voice in these types of situations in order to make a person back down. If you show weakness, if you show that you're nervous, they know you aren't really all that capable. "Are you with Prophet?"
"No," he says calmly, almost monotonously. "I am not a part of Prophet. However, I know of them and their exploits. It's quite interesting, really...they weren't meant to turn out the way they did."
"What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, gun still pointed at him.
"I was there. When you were blackmailed by Slater. I watched him fight Malcolm, who had been planning to reveal himself to you at that time. And then again, when you had been captured by Enforcer Katherine Davidson."
Something clicks. "You set off the grenade?"
He shrugs. "Irrelevant. What matters is that I was there, and that time you caught a glimpse of me. I thought you would've told someone...but I guess I was mistaken."
My grip falters a bit. "I don't...trust them completely."
"You're going to have to."
"How...how do you know all this? If you're not with Prophet, does that mean you're with Malcolm?"
His lip curls up slightly in an amused smile. "No. It's not always one or the other, Daniel. I came to you because I need you to deliver a message."
"A message? To who?"
I hear running, someone is coming towards us. His eyes meet mine, and I find it hard to meet that luminescent gaze. "Tell Malcolm that Prometheus says hello."
He slips into the shadows and seemingly vanishes. "Daniel!" Adamaris is at the end of the alley. He runs towards me. "Sorry, Gardner got away. I'm glad to see you're alright. Is your brother..." He draws a finger across his throat inquisitively.
I shake my head no. "No. He's not dead. I think he must have fled." Madeline and Daren join us.
"We killed all the Prophet agents in the building except Gardner and your brother," Daren says, out of breath. "I saw him escape into the crowd. He must not have wanted to face you any more. Oh, and, by the way, Elijah Sanford wants to see us. I don't think it's good. We had a lot of casualties...or at least you and Madeline did." He doesn't sound snide about it, just tired and accepting of it. We walk through the streets and see Elijah Sanford standing on a street corner, the wind whipping his hair around.
"We lost a lot of men today," he says calmly, a little too calmly. "But they lost a lot of men as well. I'm not sure how to assess your performance. I'm gonna leave judgment to Malcolm and Astrid. Mission's over. We did some damage. Now you're going back to Headquarters. Understood?"
We all nod glumly. Our second mission wasn't a total failure, but it certainly wasn't a shining success either. When we get back into the car, my mind drifts back to the man in the trench coat. Prometheus. What the hell was his deal? He acted like he knew a lot, but he didn't seem to be associated with Malcolm or Prophet. Maybe Malcolm will have some clue as to what it is. I decide not to tell my teammates. They seem to have a lot on their chest, especially Madeline. She looks paler than normal and still in shock. I guess Gardner bringing back those memories...didn't do her any good. Daren drives, with Madeline in the shotgun seat, leaving Adamaris and I in the back. I decide to ask him something. I lean forward a bit and clear my throat.
"Adamaris...I have a question for you."
His eyes turn to me and he nods, smiling. "Fire away, my friend."
"Gardner said that you dated a Prophet agent. Could you...elaborate? If you want to? If you don't want to I under-"
"No, no, I want to," he says, looking a bit sad. "I probably should have told you before. Back in Spain, I was one of the most successful soccer players in the world. I was popular, I was wealthy, I thought I had it made. I fell in love with a girl and thought she loved me back." He pauses, taking a gulp like he's swallowing down bile. He sounds bitter, more bitter than I've ever heard him. "I was planning to propose to her. Then, she asked to meet a friend of mine, a wealthy and important individual who was a bit of a recluse and only showed himself to close friends. We went to dinner, and then she started hitting on the other guy. I noticed and called her out on this, and we ended up fighting in the poor man's house. She told me to leave, and that she was breaking up with me. I assumed she'd just dated me to get close to the other man. I started drinking, and fell into a low life. I quit sports. One day, a man named Malcolm came into the bar and introduced himself to me. He revealed that the woman who left me had actually abducted the other man after I'd left, that he was some kind of scientist or something. He explained Prophet to me. I was furious that I'd been an unwitting part of it, and I vowed revenge. I still haven't found her."
He looks downward with saddened eyes and I pat him on the shoulder. "You'll find her. I know you will."
He smiles. "Thanks, Dan." We pull up at the office building that is over Headquarters, and we move through the lobby to the elevator. Madeline punches in the elevator door combination, and the elevator goes downwards. It opens at the familiar Headquarters, and I see Malcolm looking at his watch before looking up at us and running over to us. He looks worried and haggard.
"What happened out there, people?" he asks hurriedly.
"We killed all of them, but Byrne and Gardner got away," Daren says calmly, and Malcolm purses his lips a bit.
"That is unfortunate, but not a real problem. I've received a call from someone. He says he wants to meet me."
I perk up a bit at this. "Did he say who?"
"He's a Prophet agent and on his deathbed, he wants to tell me everything that's going on because Trueman down there will only tell me what he wants to. I have a feeling that even if we were to torture him he would still only tell us what he wants to. So this is kind of an important event."
"Oh."
He raises an eyebrow. "Were you expecting someone different, Daniel?"
I clear my throat. "Well...you see...in the alleyway...someone appeared to me. He told me to give you a message."
That gets Malcolm's attention. "Oh? What did he say?"
I breathe in and out once. "He said that...'Prometheus says hello.'"
He looks at me in slight shock. "Prometheus?"
I nod, a bit confused as to his reaction. What's with him? It's like he's seen a ghost. Adamaris, Daren, and Madeline all look around confusedly. Malcolm looks around a bit nervously before responding. "Prometheus...is an enigma. He's related to Prophet somehow but isn't a part of him. He was known as the Note Taker by Prophet. You see...I was...once a part of Prophet, but none of them trusted me because he had told stuff to me, and I could never understand why. That led to me trying to undo Prophet from the inside. I felt as though something was being kept secret from me...and I was determined to find out. I was nearly killed, and swore revenge."
All five of us stand there awkwardly. Malcolm was a part of Prophet? Well, it makes sense now why he seemed to know so much about it! And here I was, thinking he'd betrayed us. So if Malcolm doesn't know who he is, but the other people in Prophet had, then that must mean...I get a moment of realization. "I need to talk to someone," I say, pushing through and running to the elevator. I press down and get off at the prison floor. I run down the hallway and unlock the door to Marcus Trueman's cell. I walk inside and close the door behind me. He sits there, twiddling his thumbs and looking bored.
"Do you have my tea?" he asks casually. I sit down across from him, and I see Malcolm and Adamaris standing outside, not sure what I'm doing. I tilt my head slightly in response.
"I suppose that's a no," he says calmly, suppressing a yawn with his fingertips.
"Who is Prometheus?" I ask calmly.
His eyes meet mine. "The titan who gave fire to man? Greek mythology is a bit of a no-brainer for me. Is history class over yet?"
"You know exactly what I mean," I say threateningly.
He chuckles. "You sound like your brother when you say that. I've watched him interrogate many a prisoner before his incarceration. You probably won't stoop to his methods, though."
"I wouldn't be too sure," I say coldly. "You know exactly who Prometheus is, and you're going to tell me. I'll have you know I've lost any amount of patience or sympathy today. I've learned about how you've ruined two of my friends' lives. So, while you're at it, why were Madeline Black's parents so important that you had to kill them?"
"Will you kill me if I don't answer you? That's what I would do. Always another person you could interrogate. Personally, timor mortis conturbat me. But that's just me."
I look at him in confusion, but he does not elaborate. "Who is Prometheus?" You're going to tell me now, understood?"
He chuckles. "You remind me of myself once. But in the end, Tu fui ego eris."
"Stop speaking in Latin!" I yell at him. "Tell me what I need to know!"
He laughs, and Malcolm enters the room and pulls me out. "That's enough, Daniel. You aren't going to get anything out of him." I'm pulled into the corridor and Malcolm tries to soothe me. "We'll look into the Prometheus matter. Just wait a bit. I understand your impatience and confusion...we just need to wait."
He lets go and I calm down a bit. I head upstairs and I go to my bunk, and close my eyes. I realize that there is time. There is time to take down Prophet. No rush. No rush...I clench my fists. Prophet has ruined so many lives. And now there's a chance to find out why. My mind drifts to the bombs. Prophet had been diffusing them. An entirely out-of-character and odd move for them. Why would they do that? For what reason? Who is Prometheus? What is his place in all this? There are so many questions, there are so few answers. It's extremely frustrating. But in the end, the truth will come out. It has to, that is why it is the truth. I take up my time by looking through Prophet-related files, and see terrible event after terrible event. I find something different from the rest and look curiously at it.
It's a poem, marked as classified.
To Malcolm Waters,
Humble beginnings become corrupt
Prophets rise and fall with the tide
In the end, what will happen will happen
They'll cast you out, set you aside
It wasn't meant to end like this
It wasn't meant to begin
He knows of me and why I am
You're expendable in the end
So heed this warning
An era is dawning
That they won't let you see
I do not speak of
Ifs or mights
I speak of what will be
Prometheus
***
The sharp-dressed man stepped into the hospital waiting room with a confident stride, and immediately went to the desk. "I'm here to visit Mr. Zachary Stone." The desk lady didn't even look up from her work.
"Your name?"
"Slater. Joseph Slater."
"Mr. Slater, do you know Mr. Stone personally?"
"We...work together."
"Alright. You may go to see him." Slater gave her a smile before going through the door. He looked for the room number for some time before finding the correct one. He entered and felt the silenced gun in his pocket. Just in case. He opened the door to see the old man lying on the bed. He started when he saw Slater, but Slater gave him the calm-down sign.
"It's just me. Just checking in on you."
"We all know I'm dead," he croaked. "Cancer has done me in in the end, I suppose...you're not here to tidy up loose ends?"
Slater raised an eyebrow. "Would there be any reason to?"
"N-No..."
Slater smiled like a snake. "Good. We're just here to say hello, and our final goodbyes. You want a glass of water?"
The old man eyed him suspiciously. "Do I? How should I know you didn't poison it?"
Slater moved over to the sink and poured the water in, making a show of doing it with his back turned. He turned back around to the old man and took a huge gulp of it. With his tongue, he removed the pill from in between his teeth and it dissolved into the water. He placed it on the dying man's bedside table. With a trembling hand, he grabbed it and took a drink of it. Slater smiled. "You now officially have...five minutes left."
"I"m not an idiot," the old man snapped. "You kept the pill inside your mouth, right? I've been trained to resist it since I was twenty. It won't do anything to me."
Slater chuckled. "That's where you're wrong, old man. This is new, designed by Theodore Malik himself. It'll kill you and all the nurses will think is that you finally kicked the bucket. Malcolm will be here any minute, right? Well, I'll make sure he gets his. Goodbye for the last time, old friend."
He turned around and started leaving when the old man spoke up. "You've changed a lot, Joseph. I remember when we found you as a pitiful wretch on the street. Left out in the rain, to starve. You were different from the rest, though. You had a spark of ambition. Maybe it was because you'd started out with the high life. You always held the ambitions, and here you are now, twenty years later, a cold-blooded attack dog of Marcus Trueman!"
"Careful, old man, you'll give yourself a heart attack," Slater said acidly. "I have changed-for the better. I have power, I have control."
"Prophet wasn't always about control," the old man said quietly, and then his face started turning blue. "Remember that, Joseph. You weren't always a killer." With that, he breathed his last. Slater looked around, and felt an odd, light-headed feeling inside him, dizzy of sorts. The sky outside was cloudy, and he could hear thunder in the distance. Rain again, again, and again. He hated rain, and he hated this man for bringing back memories of a time of his life he never wanted to revisit again. He straightened his suit, and walked out, taking a last glance at his former mentor before exiting the building. The rain fell on him and he looked upwards towards the sky. He fled. Malcolm rounded the corner and walked into the building, checking in to see Stone. As he rounded the corner and opened the door, his eyes found the cold dead body of one of their only leads who would cooperate, and his face fell.
Outside, Slater felt an unfamiliar emotion in his chest.
He later realized it was sadness.