Chapter 50: DeRouse’s Death

The first thing anyone noticed was the sound.

It came before the footsteps, before the figure appeared in the doorway. A low, mechanical pull and release. A drawn-out inhale followed by a faint, filtered exhale, like air being dragged through something artificial.

"Hhhh...kshhh. Hhhh—kshhh."

It echoed softly against the sterile walls of the hospital corridor, unnatural and yet steady, breaking the fragile quiet that had settled over the place.

Markus looked up first.

Ash stood there and for a moment, he didn’t even look human.

A dark coat hung from his shoulders, heavier than anything he used to wear, the fabric stiff and structured. Tubes ran from beneath the collar, coiling forward into a mask that covered the lower half of his face. The mask itself was sleek but unsettling, transparent enough to show the faint outline of his mouth beneath it, yet reinforced with thin metallic seams. Each breath he took fogged it slightly before being pulled away again.

The tubes fed into a compact device secured at his hip, a small compartment that hummed quietly with each cycle of air. Every inhale triggered a soft vibration through the system, every exhale released that same sharp, filtered sound.

A faint blue light appeared on the tubes with each breath. It was as if it signaled weather or not he was breathing.

"Hhhh—kshhh." The sound continued.

He stepped forward slowly, like his body was still learning how to exist again.

Markus didn’t speak at first. He couldn’t, he just looked at Ashell, because Ash wasn’t just different.

He looked like someone who had been rebuilt.

Ash’s eyes scanned the room, restless, searching. There was something desperate in them, something that hadn’t been there before.

"Father..." he said, his voice slightly muffled by the mask. It came out thinner, strained, as if the air itself resisted him. "I... I want to see my father."

The words weren’t loud, but they hit hard.

Markus shifted uncomfortably, glancing toward his own father, who stood near the far wall. There was a tension in the room now, something unspoken tightening between them all.

Before anyone could answer, the door to the adjacent room opened.

A nurse stepped out, her expression was careful. Too careful like she was not trying to alarm anyone.

"You can see him now," she said gently, her eyes moving between the boys. Then she leaned closer to Markus’s father, lowering her voice just enough.

"He doesn’t have much time left."

It wasn’t meant for Ashell’s ears but the already present silence in the room carried the words right to his ears.

Markus’s father stiffened.

For a split second, something cracked in his composure. Then he nodded once, sharp and controlled, "Thank you."

Ash didn’t wait. The moment the words landed in his ears, he moved.

He didn’t walked, he moved....Fast, unsteadily and desperately.

The sound followed behind him.

"Hhhh—kshhh."

Markus ran after him, not even thinking, his own heartbeat pounded loud in his ears, ’I need to know were Mr DeRouse found out all that stuff about Mark 8 that I didn’t even know.’

The two of them pushed through the door together.

The room inside was dim.

Machines lined the walls, their soft beeping forming an uneven rhythm. Tubes and wires stretched toward the bed at the center, where Ash’s father lay.

He looked smaller.

That was the first thing Ash noticed.

Smaller, more weaker, like something had been taken from him piece by piece. His skin had a grayish tone, stretched tight over his bones. But worse than that, the crystal....It had spread.

From his abdomen, jagged formations pushed outward beneath the skin, faintly visible in uneven ridges. Some areas had already broken through, forming dull, translucent growths that caught the light in sharp, unnatural angles.

It wasn’t just an injury...It was as if the crystals were consuming him.

Ash stopped at the side of the bed, his breathing suddenly louder and much faster.

"Father..." he whispered, reaching out. His hand trembled as it closed around his father’s, "I’m here."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then a faint movement. His father’s fingers twitched...Slowly and painfully, his eyes opened.

They were unfocused at first, drifting, struggling to recognize what they were seeing. Then they landed on Ash and they softened.

"My... son..."

The words barely existed, carried on a breath that sounded like it might disappear at any second.

Ash leaned closer, the mask almost touching his father’s face, "Yes, Father. I’m here. I’m right here."

His father’s gaze lingered on the mask. There was confusion there and something else...it was sadness, "This... mask..."

Ash shook his head quickly.

"I don’t like it either," he said, the words rushing out, uneven. "But it helps me. It keeps me alive. So it’s fine. It’s fine."

His father’s lips curved slightly into a weak smile, "Then... don’t complain."

Ash let out something that wasn’t quite a laugh, "I won’t."

They stayed like that for a moment. Holding on to each other.

Trying so hard to pretend that time wasn’t slipping through their fingers.

Markus stood a little further back, watching. His own hands clenched at his sides, his diamond-like fingers catching the dim light. He hadn’t even realized he was staring at them until his father’s voice broke through.

"My old friend," Markus’s father said, stepping forward slowly. "How are you holding up... Marty?"

So that was his name now. "Marty."

Ash’s father turned his head slightly, the movement clearly costing him.

"I’ve... been better," he managed, a faint hint of humor buried beneath the pain.

Markus’s father let out a quiet breath, something between a laugh and a sigh, "That sounds about right."

The two men looked at each other, years of history sitting between them. Unspoken things. Shared memories. Regrets they didn’t have time to unpack.

"You always were stubborn...to think you would finally accept being called Marty.," Markus’s father added.

Marty’s eyes flickered with something warmer, "And you were always... worse, you were always persistent in trying to call me that even though you knew how much i hated it."

A weak chuckle escaped Markus before he could stop it.

The room felt... human again. Just for a second.

Then Marty’s expression shifted... It was serious now.

His gaze moved back to Ash.

"My son," he said quietly, tightening his grip as much as he could. "Listen to me."

Ash straightened up instinctively, "I’m listening."

Ashell’s father’s breathing hitched, "We both know..." he started, pausing as if even forming the thought hurt. "I won’t make it... after today."

"No," Ash said immediately. Too quickly. "No, don’t say that. You’re going to be fine. You have to be..."

"Listen." The word cut through everything.

It wasn’t loud but it was firm.

Ash froze. For the first time since entering the room, he didn’t interrupt.

DeRouse’s eyes softened again, "Please," he said. "Just listen."

Ash swallowed hard, nodding once, "...Okay."

Marty shifted his gaze toward Markus and his father, then back to Ash.

"You’re not alone," he continued. "You won’t be."

His voice trembled, but he kept going, "Take care of him," he said, looking directly at Markus’s father now. "Please."

Marcus’s father didn’t hesitate, "I will."

Marty’s eyes lingered on him, searching for doubt but there wasn’t any, "...Good."

Ash shook his head again, his grip tightening, "No...No, you’re not going anywhere. You can’t just—"

Marty lifted his hand slightly, weak but deliberate, placing it against the side of Ash’s mask.

"Strong," he whispered. "You have to be strong."

The machine beside the bed started beeping irregularly now.

Time was running out.

Ash leaned into his father’s hand, his shoulders trembling, "I don’t want to do this without you," he admitted, his voice breaking despite the mask.

Marty’s expression softened further, something almost peaceful settling over him, "You can," he said. "And you will."

His hand slipped slightly. Ash caught it immediately, pressing it back against his own.

"I’m here," he repeated, as if saying it enough times could anchor him in place but it didn’t.

The beeping slowed then stuttered.

Markus turned away slightly, jaw tight. His father remained still, but his eyes never left DeRouse.

The final breath came quietly, almost too quietly and then a heavy silence fell upon them.

The machines let out a long, flat tone.

Ash didn’t move and he didn’t speak. He just stood there, still holding his father’s hand, as if waiting for it to move again but it never did.

Markus looked at him, something heavy settling in his chest, ’ Well my answers have to remain unanswered now.’

Markus stood there and said "...Ash." in a low tone but there was no response.

The breathing machine continued its steady rhythm.

"Hhhh—kshhh."

Eventually, Markus stepped forward, placing a hand on Ash’s shoulder.

"I’m here," he said quietly.

Ash’s grip loosened slowly. Not because he wanted to but because he had to.

The car ride was silent.

Ash sat in the back seat, his head resting lightly against the window. The city outside blurred past, lights stretching into meaningless streaks.

Markus sat beside him, hands clasped together, his crystalline fingers dull in the low light.

Up front, Marcus’s father drove. His expression was unreadable.

After a long stretch of silence, he spoke, "Ash."

Ash didn’t respond immediately..then, softly replied, "Yes?"

"You won’t be alone," Markus’s father said. "Not anymore."

Ash’s eyes shifted slightly, "...What do you mean?"

There was a pause carried by the previous question.

"You’re coming with us." Ashell’s heart throbbed.

"To the Cain Foundation." Victor continued.

The name settled in the car like something heavy.

Ash closed his eyes briefly, the sound of his breathing filling the space.

"Hhhh—kshhh."

"...Okay," he said. Not because he understood, not because he was ready but because there wasn’t anything else left to hold onto.

And the car kept moving forward.