After experiencing a nosebleed from the first dose of "PX-209," Helios was careful never to inject himself the compound again. It had taken a bloodletting and a rather long spell of nosebleeding before his headache had finally eased.
What had begun as a mild headache rapidly worsened. The slight ache turned into excruciating pain, the pressure in his skull intensified, and his eyes felt as though they would burst from their sockets. Only when the pain alternated with bouts of dizziness did Helios realize he had survived the worst.
Throughout the entire procedure, he had regularly monitored his blood values. Despite the massive loss—over eight liters in five hours—his hemoglobin level remained surprisingly stable by the end. That he could even stand upright despite the vertigo was nearly absurd.
It was a pity he couldn't draw the blood under sterile conditions; at least then he could have stored a few units of blood for the next time he was injured. Still, he recognized the potential this drug offered. With it, he wouldn't have to fear bleeding out and dying after an attack.
He resolved to carry a dose of the drug with him at all times for emergencies.
As strange as it sounded—after nearly rupturing his veins and enduring such a gruesome procedure—he felt more refreshed afterward.
Moreover, he hadn't lost any appreciable amount of blood beyond what he'd started with. His total blood volume remained roughly the same as in his initial sample. At least this confirmed his theory that the drug not only regenerated blood cells but actually increased their number. Which made sense: Dante's wounds also generated new blood cells when he sustained severe injuries.
So this compound truly underlay his immortality. Helios was now convinced of that. Yet by itself it seemed far from sufficient. Besides, the drug vanished entirely from his bloodstream after six hours, as if he had never injected it.
He would have to stabilize the substance so that it functioned in him as it did in Dante. Ideally, this—he simply called it an ability—would activate only when absolutely necessary.
If only he knew how Dante's physiology had managed to stabilize this ability to such an extent. Whether it was due to one of the other compounds, an undocumented substance, or a mutation regulated by Dante's body remained unclear.
The more he learned about immortality, the more questions arose.
After the rat's veins had burst, he reviewed the records again. He noted that several of the test subjects—especially the healthy ones—had died from ruptured blood vessels. Many had bled from every orifice and ultimately succumbed to blood loss—presumably because their bodies were too weak.
Despite all the documentation, the causes of death among the subjects varied strikingly, and it was nearly impossible to determine with certainty whether they'd been triggered by the administered compounds or by previous injuries. Although all the participants had received the same base substances, the researchers had merely adjusted the formulas step by step, apparently hoping to gain better control over the reactions.
Over the past ten years, according to the records, no new compound had been tested. No breakthroughs, no real progress—only modified versions of the old formula.
Helios wondered why on earth they hadn't moved forward all that time. Why hadn't they tried anything new? Simply tweaking existing formulas that clearly hadn't worked was just as pointless. If Helios had been in charge of the research, he was certain he'd have achieved results more quickly.
Dante, by contrast, died of cardiac arrest—officially, at least. The files described a cardiogenic shock triggered by severe blood loss from multiple gunshot wounds. His heart didn't fail because it was too weak, but apparently because it couldn't cooperate with the compounds' mechanisms. His dossier differed hardly at all from those of the other failed subjects: clinical, incomplete, filled with standard medical phrasing—without a single clue as to why he, of all people, ultimately survived.
He would very much like to discover whether Ambrosia served as the stabilizer. But if that drug truly had a stabilizing effect, there would be more immortals. And if Ambrosia wasn't the stabilizer, how did it work?
A week had already passed since his last self-experiment, and Helios had made hardly any progress. He had first tested the other two substances on rats—with fatal results. Though they didn't explode like the first test animal, they still died abruptly. No twitching, no struggle—just sudden death, as if the body ceased to exist in a fraction of a second.
He was simply no further along.
So he refined the formulas and asked Spider to use them in his assassinations. Helios was still awaiting Spider's reports, since there was little else he could do but pore over the documents again and optimize the formulas. It frustrated him to his core.
As things stood, he couldn't make Belladonna immortal—not without taking such great risks that he might accidentally kill him too quickly. His revenge would be ruined if Belladonna met a swift death due to a mistake. He didn't have much time left to find the compound—especially if he intended to administer it to Belladonna once they captured him.
He had already lovingly prepared Belladonna's new room in a place where no one would ever find him and his screams would go unheard. Everything was ready—only his guest and that damned drug remained.
Of course, he could do without it—but then his time with Belladonna would be over far too quickly.
As for Dante, Helios had hardly noticed him over the past week. He seemed angry that Helios had simply injected himself with the drug.
Apart from that, Helios had been so absorbed in his research that he barely paid attention to his immortal guardian. Between his regular work and his nocturnal activities, there was hardly any time to breathe.
Since his father's return, Helios's workload had noticeably changed—or rather, it had returned to its usual level. The stacks on his desk grew by the day, enough to keep him busy for weeks on end.
It was, among other things, a very clear sign that his father was quite dissatisfied with the current situation in Soley.
If only his useless assistant were back, he could offload some of his work and focus more on the immortality formula. But Theo remained absent. He'd suffered a mental breakdown after only a few days at home. The man was so unbelievably fragile that it only irritated Helios further.
Instead, Helios had drafted Theo's assistant—but was disappointed to find that this man was even less reliable than Theo himself. So he decided to hire a new assistant after all. Interviews were underway, but no candidate had impressed him so far.
He had so damned much to do that the day didn't have enough hours to get everything done the way he was used to.
At least his physical condition had improved after visiting Spider's doctor. The cough was gone, he no longer looked so pale, and fortunately his foot had only been slightly sprained. No fracture, nothing serious.
All that remained was fatigue, because he pushed himself harder with each passing day. So he seized every spare moment to doze, even at night, sleeping like the dead—and Dante hardly spoke to him, preferring to bury himself in Helios's notes.
Which was probably for the best, since it allowed Helios to concentrate fully on all the work he had. From time to time he employed Dante for lighter tasks—simply observing a compound Helios had mixed—and otherwise had him scan the surroundings for danger.
Even though no threats lurked in the shadows—Helios had given no assignments and was far too busy to take pleasure in the deaths of his unwitting guardians—times were peaceful for now, because he was too tired.
There was no news from Wallace either. He had put Spider onto that matter, but things were quiet around him and his bloodthirsty men.
Sighing, Helios rose, stretched, and yawned deeply. It had grown damned late again, and Spider was already waiting for him. He wanted at least a decent conclusion to his current project; only two hours later did he feel he'd reached a good stopping point to pick up on the next day.
"Are you ready?" Dante asked.
Helios nodded, slipped on his cloak, extinguished all the lights, and, armed with his suitcase, made for the door. As usual, he locked up his laboratory and headed outside.
He had instructed the guards to meet him at the car in an hour, so the corridors were empty and dark. They exited the compound through the side entrance, stepped into the night, and made their way directly to the old alley—his regular rendezvous with Spider. Helios was certain he'd find him waiting there, probably impatient, maybe even annoyed—as always.
But when they reached the alley, no one was there. It lay deserted before them, without a sign of Spider.
Surely he hadn't just taken off again? After all, Helios was only half an hour late.
"Wasn't he supposed to meet us here?" Dante asked quietly.
He stayed close to Helios, scanning the alley for potential threats. Helios, however, didn't believe Spider could have fallen victim to anyone. After all, Spider was probably the most capable assassin Helios knew. Even if he'd never say so to his face.
Spider's ego would probably explode from pride—almost annoyingly so.
"The bastard must have lost interest after half an hour," Helios muttered, irritation in his voice.
He was tired, and there was still so much work waiting for him in the basement that he had no time to waste. His schedule was so tight that there was barely room to do anything else.
"Yeah, the bastard went for coffee—because it's damn cold," Spider's voice suddenly whispered in his ear.
Helios shivered inwardly and resisted the urge to cover his ear with his hand. Spider's deep voice sent a pleasant shiver through his body. Goosebumps rose on his arms. Not that he'd ever let Spider see that reaction. It wouldn't help if Spider knew where Helios's erogenous zones were.
Dante, on the other hand, immediately dropped into a defensive stance and pushed Helios slightly away from Spider—until he realized it was only Spider himself, who had appeared out of nowhere. He visibly relaxed and returned to a normal posture, as Spider grinned smugly.
"Besides, you're not half an hour but a whole hour late," he added, leaning casually against the damp brick wall and taking a deep sip from his steaming coffee cup.
Helios turned to him without acknowledging the remark. "So? What's new?" he asked coolly, getting straight to the point.
Spider raised an eyebrow. "I'm glad to see you too," he replied dryly, with a sarcastic undertone. He let his gaze drop to Helios, then back up. "You look like crap. Do you ever sleep?"
"I get enough sleep," Helios answered curtly.
Spider turned to Dante, who only shrugged wordlessly—a silent confirmation to the contrary.
"If you keep this up, you'll soon look like your pathetic assistant," Spider remarked casually, taking another sip of coffee.
Helios raised an eyebrow in response. How did Spider even know what Theo looked like now?
Helios crossed his arms. "If you have so much free time, I can give you a few extra tasks."
"Please don't!" Spider held up a hand in mock defense and made a dramatic face. "I'm already at capacity—my beauty sleep is just barely enough to maintain this flawless complexion."
"Then stop spying on my people. Why are you even interested in Theo?"
Spider shrugged. "Just wanted to see what someone looks like whom you're working to death."
Helios sighed. "He only has himself to blame. He could take leave anytime, but that idiot of an assistant thinks he can keep up with me. Anyway, we've wasted enough time. Do you have results?"
Spider handed him some documents and savored another sip of coffee.
"All the substances are lethal," Spider said. "Those ampoules were the ones from the underground complex, right? Thanks to the one—hmm, what was it called again? Ah yes, 'ATP-087'—super useful for interrogations, but people die of sleep deprivation. One dose and they stay awake for up to six days straight. I didn't push it further for lack of time, but I'm pretty sure they'd last a maximum of eight days. The other compound induces cardiac arrest."
Helios tucked the papers into his coat. He couldn't really read in the dark alley anyway.
Spider's findings matched what Helios had heard from the researcher. It didn't surprise him that the compound was lethal to humans as well as rats.
"Did you test the compounds on those who were close to death?"
"I did," Spider said, his expression turning intrigued. "It keeps them alive for a short time, but it doesn't save the already dying. What the hell were they researching down there?"
"Had I known," Helios replied with a snort. "These compounds are more emergency medicines than anything else, though I agree with you about 'ATP-087'—it's really not bad for interrogations."
"I want the formula," Spider said.
"For ATP-087? Fine by me, you can have it as a reward—but only after I've got Belladonna."
Spider grinned. "I can set up the rendezvous next week. How's your foot?"
"It won't hinder me significantly in a week. Your doctor did a good job."
"Doc's the best," Spider said satisfied—until his expression grew serious. "Belladonna's fast. Don't forget he's an assassin."
Helios pointed at Dante, who listened silently. "That's what he's here for."
Spider looked amusedly at Dante, then took a few steps toward him. "Hey there, Big Guy! You're so quiet I almost didn't notice you!"
"Too bad—I was hoping you'd ignore me completely," Dante shot back.
"Aww, how cold! And yet it was soooo cozy in bed with you!"
"Please, spare me the reminder," Dante muttered with a resigned sigh.
Spider grinned mischievously before turning back to Helios. "I won't help you take Belladonna out. I'll arrange the meeting, then I'm out."
"Good," Helios said. "I never planned on involving you anyway. What about Wallace?"
"He's planning something, seems to hold regular meetings, and everyone who attends is acting more than suspiciously. I'll check it out in a few days," Spider answered casually.
"I'll leave it to you how you handle it," Helios said. "What matters are the results."
"So I'm free to eliminate him?"
"If you deem it necessary. I can do without more bullet wounds."
Spider's smile turned dark. "So I have free rein?"
"You do."
Spider turned back to Dante, looped an arm around his neck, and tugged him down closer. "You hear that? I can really let loose!"
Dante rolled his eyes. "Don't say it like you're heading to an amusement park."
"Why not? It'll be a blast breaking in and taking a look around."
"As long as none of it comes back on me, you can go wild," Helios said.
"Don't worry, they won't even notice me," Spider hummed contentedly. "About payment…?"
"As usual."
"I love doing business with you. Don't you want to be my sugar daddy?"
Helios rolled his eyes. "So you can turn into a lazy bitch?"
"I'd take good care of you," Spider promised.
"Thanks, but no—I need you as an assassin."
"Such a shame. But I'll take that as a compliment for my excellent work," Spider grinned.
Helios exhaled slowly. This back-and-forth was eating up an absurd amount of time. "How's it going to go with Belladonna?" he changed the subject.
"I'll give you the basic details for the rendezvous in a few days—enough so you still have about two days to prepare. If we're lucky, maybe even three. We'll see."
"That will be sufficient," Helios said. He glanced at his watch and realized they wouldn't get home until after midnight. "Anything else?"
Spider shook his head. "That's all the intel I can give you right now."
"Okay, then—see you in a few days," said Helios. He tossed Spider a small pouch of money and turned away so they could finally leave.
Suddenly Spider slipped an arm around Helios's shoulders and drew him close, nibbling gently on his earlobe as he whispered softly, "If I can help you relax a bit, just let me know. I know one or two very helpful techniques."
Then he flicked his tongue once over Helios's ear—sending another shiver through his body. So Spider had discovered that was one of his erogenous zones. Damn bastard. Helios's face twisted in disgust.
"I'd have to be truly desperate to sleep with you," he said as disgustedly as he could. "Besides, I don't sleep with prostitutes."
Spider just laughed and let him go. "Me, a prostitute?"
"As much as you're selling yourself," Helios retorted dryly. He raised an eyebrow. "It comes off as desperate—better drop it."
"Hmm, maybe you're not entirely wrong. I'd definitely give you a good time you wouldn't soon forget," Spider said with a wink.
"Thanks, I don't even want to imagine that in my worst nightmares," Helios waved him off. "See you in a few days."
And with that, he walked off, leaving a smirking Spider behind. The guy just had too much fun teasing him.
Dante followed silently.
Helios cast a fleeting glance at Dante. His face was like a stone mask. Was he angry that they'd wasted so much time? He really ought to have been home by now, buried in his papers.
Helios checked his watch again. They had truly squandered a lot of time.
Dante remained silent until they were back inside the estate. Only after Dante closed Helios's bedroom door behind him did he find his voice again.
"You had Spider test both compounds on humans?" Dante asked in a low voice.
Helios nodded. Right—Dante hadn't known about that. He'd sent the drug and the instructions to Spider in a package via the doctor. Dante had waited outside while Helios underwent treatment.
In all the stress, he'd completely forgotten to inform Dante. All in the name of efficiency.
Well, it was too late for regrets. What's done is done.
So Helios nodded. "He's constantly killing people, so I had him administer and test both compounds."
Dante fell silent. But his silence was louder than any words.
"Why do you keep doing things like this? First that damn self-experiment, and now the compounds are in circulation! What if more people become like me?!" he finally snapped at Helios.
"Calm down, Dante. The compounds I gave Spider aren't responsible for your condition. The likelihood is very high that they aren't even needed," Helios said. "But I have to know exactly how everything works, or I'll never get anywhere. Besides, if it would just work on everyone we would have found records of that in Soley. But it's only you."
"As far as we know..." Dante exhaled in frustration. "...I don't like this."
"It was the most efficient way. Or do you have an better idea?" Helios replied. "Certain sacrifices must be made—so why not those who would die anyway?"
Dante gave him a strange look.
"You're far too relaxed about the deaths of others," he muttered quietly.
"Don't forget who I'm doing all this for," Helios hissed. "What's a few more deaths, one way or the other?"
His patience was wearing thin.
But Dante only looked at him with disappointment.
"I know why you're doing it. Still, I had hoped you'd be more honest with me after our last conversation."
Helios exhaled slowly. Annoyed, he tapped Dante's chest with his index finger, tilting his head back to look him in the eyes.
"I'm working nonstop on this compound and giving everything I have to understand how it transformed you. I'm really sorry if I forgot to keep you informed about this minor detail," Helios retorted sarcastically. He was far too tired and irritable to handle this conversation properly.
Dante's eyes narrowed. "Damn it, Helios… all I'm asking is that you're honest with me and keep me in the loop," he snapped, his voice rising. "By the way, it's not a minor detail when people's lives are at stake."
"Aha, here comes Mr. Moral High Ground again," Helios rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in irritation. "I really don't understand what your problem is. He's an assassin—murder is his job. Why is it any worse that I have him test the compounds? Or would you rather I test them on myself again? Well then, you can say goodbye to your antidote."
"I do not want you testing these compounds on yourself! After the last one, you almost died like that poor rat!" Dante snarled. "No one should suffer because of this antidote!"
"And yet you want the antidote!" Helios shot back, exasperated. "Then tell me how I'm supposed to create this compound without any sacrifices! I know practically nothing about it! All I have are theories—and none of them have been confirmed! And about these other substances, I only know what's been written down! If those idiots had kept decent documentation, this would be so much easier to reproduce!"
He rubbed his tired eyes. "Damn it—I still know nothing about Ambrosia or PL-021. I don't know what they do or what they contain. If I had even a bit more of them, I could test everything thoroughly—but those doses might only be enough for the compound itself!"
Helios sank onto the edge of the bed. He simply didn't have time to argue with Dante. It was well past midnight and he desperately needed to get back to work. Time was short, and the longer he fought, the less time he'd have to develop this damned immortality formula.
Dante sat down beside him, resting his forehead in his hand. The tension remained, but his voice was softer, more broken. "I don't know either, damn it. I just don't want to sacrifice anyone for my own wish. It… it doesn't feel right to stand on the deaths of others."
"We have no choice. Without sacrifices, I won't be able to create the compound. I don't care who has to die for it, Dante. Spider would kill these people anyway—I don't even have to lift a finger," Helios said, weary.
Having Dante close was comforting, even amidst the argument—he was somehow glad to feel Dante's warmth again. Since Soley, they'd grown closer, yet Helios had built a distance between them he felt he couldn't cross.
"I'm glad I don't have to watch you kill people yourself," Dante said quietly.
If only he knew what I do when he's not watching.
Helios didn't know what to say to reassure Dante and show him how hard he was trying to develop the formula. He rested his head on Dante's shoulder—lightly, almost hesitantly. He wasn't sure if this was how one reconciled. After all, he was only just learning what it meant to argue with someone and then make up. Even though he'd never truly managed to reconcile with Dante before.
"I would kill anyone who might help create the antidote," Helios said.
But instead of thanking him or showing any sign that his methods might be acceptable, Dante tensed and stood up.
"Maybe you should sleep tonight. You're far too overtired to focus on the antidote. Spider's right. You look awful," Dante said coolly.
With that, he disappeared into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him and leaving Helios utterly dazed. He remained seated, motionless, staring into space. He still felt the aftershock of the closeness that had suddenly vanished. His attempt to demonstrate his resolve as a sign of devotion had spectacularly failed. Instead of gratitude or understanding, he'd been met with rejection—and that unbearable chill again.
That wasn't exactly what he'd wanted to hear, he thought, frustrated.