He staggers back with his face in his hands. He didn't mean to. He didn't mean to. No, god, please -

Her words are lost in a fountain of static, splitting across the world at the seams. Overridden by the cold pronouncement of one Alex Kralie, his glare lost in the shadow of the brim of his hat until it abruptly blazes out like a beacon, his expression cold.

"I know exactly what happened to Brian." He kneels down, just beside the hooded figure that lies prone, propped up against the wall. Only he's no longer hooded or masked. He doesn't move an inch. "You killed him."

He reaches, seizing the back of Brian's hair and jerking his head upright. It lolls lifelessly on a neck floppy and boneless.

"And he died here slowly because of you."

Tim can't look away. There's something hot beading up at the corners of his vision as he lies there, trembling. Each breath rasps. The camera in his hand trembles. Alex delivers a forceful shove that sends Brian slumping sideways like a ragdoll, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Alex's words bristle with distortion, laced with gasoline.

"How does it feel to know one of your friends is dead?"




And Tim
screams.