Chapter 204 - Youthful Vibe

Down in the decoy apartment, Maxen sat on the barstool as if it's his throne. He crossed his legs while his left forearm rested on top of the kitchen island countertop. His fingers occasionally drummed as he watched the surgeon stitch Lance Go's manly parts on the spot.

He trained his sight somewhere nice like the view of the sun's orange glow as it got swallowed on the horizon from the floor to ceiling window, but his curiosity won over and he caught himself stealing a peep on the corner where the procedure was ongoing.

No matter how many times he averted his gaze, his eyes seemed to have a mind of its own, darting back on the surgeon's hands that moved in skill and precision.

Maxen tried his best not to wince every time he gets a peek of the extent of damage on Lance Go, but boy, oh boy, that surgeon deserved a raise after salvaging what his baby butchered.

Soon, Maxen heard echoes of footfalls from the hallway, followed by a shadow cast on the door. Shifting his gaze from his left where the surgery was ongoing, to his right where the door was, Maxen raised a brow upon seeing Wyatt enter the room and a group of uniformed men and women trailing behind him.

The three creases on Wyatt's forehead told Maxen that they weren't able to catch Lance Go's accomplices. True enough, his friend slumped on the sofa and spread his arms on the backrest in a wingspan.

"They're gone. We closed all exits but my guess is either they left as soon as they dropped Lance Go off or they saw us arrive at the scene so they fled." Wyatt then looked up at the ceiling to clear and empty his thoughts so he could think more freely.

Just as he was gazing on the ceiling, he appreciated the crown moldings and thought about his daughter, Aerith. Maybe she'd love to have such an intricate design in her bedroom, too. However, just as he was about to get lost in his random musings, he then snapped out of his daze upon hearing bar stool creak.

"Let's just wait for this guy to wake up then. The tranquilizer would soon wear off," Maxen said as he stepped off the stool. Everyone's eyes snapped to his direction and gawked at Maxen's princely form. Even with his hands dipped in his pockets, his back was straight as a ruler and not a hair was out of place.

Everyone tried to ignore his presence, but there was something about Maxen that magnetized their eyes to shift their focus on him. He was there, standing without uttering a single word as if in deep contemplation and he didn't ask for any attention too, yet eyes still followed his every move.

Standing by the kitchen island, all Maxen wanted to happen was for the surgeon to finish stitching up Lance Go who was now squirming on the orange gurney he was laying down on. Maxen was getting impatient. He needed answers, and only Lance Go could give him that.

"Good job, team," the surgeon congratulated his team as he tied the last stitch on Lance Go. A nurse wiped the beading sweat on the surgeon's forehead when he straightened his back. One more loop of the thread and it's over.

In the surgeon's thought, it was not an easy feat to do emergency surgery in a living room. The surgeon felt as if he was doing something illegal, stitching up a fugitive, and his only consolation was the prince's presence during the entire ordeal.

In synchrony, the medical team removed their caps along and threw it in a bin along while they threw their gloves in a separate container.

With clean hands and clothes, the medical staff waited for Maxen, whose back was facing them because he was speaking with Wyatt.

"Thank you for your service, doc," Maxen beamed and shook hands with the surgeon. He then stepped to the side to do the same with the rest of the surgeon's team.

While the medical team was busy packing up, a soldier brought in a doc.u.ment for the team to sign. It was an NDA that would prevent them from ever speaking of what transpired that afternoon.

As if the medical team was used to it, they didn't dare raise questions and just skimmed the doc.u.ment, after which they printed and signed their name on the bottom of the doc.u.ment. One by one, the medical team handed their signed doc.u.ments back to the waiting soldier with stoic expressions painted on their faces.

Maxen clapped his hands together and showcased his practiced smile. His pearly whites briefly blinded those who dared raised their heads and stole a peep of his face. "We have snacks prepared in the lobby for everyone," he trailed off. "And this guy will happily take you to the room we prepared for you. I appreciate all your hard work today."

As the medical left, two soldiers lifted Lance Go off the gurney and dragged him into the training room in Olivia's decoy apartment. It was the perfect room for Maxen and Wyatt to conduct their interrogation.

As soon as MIB1 locked the door in Olivia's decoy apartment, the atmosphere in the room changed. The temperature dropped and grey fingers of fog seemed to blanket the room.

Everyone beelined to the training room and in the center was Lance Go, slumping on a seat.

"Wake up, bitch," Maxen sneered, slapping Lance Go's face. He wanted to degrade the man for losing his manly parts, a perfect way to crack Lance's already weak defenses.

The men in the room laughed as he taunted Lance Go. It was uncharacteristic of Maxen to speak in such a manner, but those who knew him in the barracks were fond of such an image.

Although it was far from his goody two shoes image in the public's eye, it was a breath of fresh air for others to see that side of Maxen once he's inside the interrogation room where he had more liberty to do as he pleased.

A corner of Maxen's lips curled up in disgust as he watched Lance Go force his eyelids open. The latter's eyes were rolling—an indication that the drugs in his system hadn't worn off, and he was still disoriented.

"See this?" Maxen asked, dangling a Ziploc bag in the air. He took p.l.e.a.s.u.r.e in Lance Go's eyes that shifted from left to right as it followed the Ziploc's direction.

Slowly, the color from Lance Go's already ashen face drained. He closed his eyes, and beads of sweat dribbled from his temples down to his neck. "Where's Olivia? I need to speak to her," he uttered. His voice was dry and throaty.

"Olivia? Who's Olivia?"

"Quit f.u.c.k.i.n.g with me, asshole. You know who Olivia is. She shot me. Olivia shot me. Go get her and tell her I forgive her for shooting me," Lance blabbered as he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Holding Lance by the chin, Maxen pierced a stare on Lance and said, "I'm the one who shot you, Lance. Olivia is in the Lin Estate with her family."

"Ha! You think I will know this place if Jules didn't inform me about it?"

"What if Jules trapped you? He wanted you gone too. Everyone wanted you done anyway."

"Ha-ha-ha." Lance Go's head tipped back from its heaviness. "Do you even know who Jules is, huh?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. Look around you and you'll see him behind me," Maxen bluffed. To everyone's surprise, Lance Go forced his head and scanned the room, zeroing in at one person.

"Once a traitor, always a traitor," Lance seethed, half laughing at his predicament. "I had a feeling you were setting me up, Jules. I told them your loyalty no longer belonged to the Huks, but they believed you. You're the chief's son, after all."

Eyes traced Lance Go's line of sight and everyone's hands slowly reached for the guns in their holsters, but none of them expected for Maxen's personal security detail to draw his gun and point it under his chin.

Despite the gravity of the situation, MIB2's youthful vibe glowed from his skin, and his smile still reached his eyes. "It was an honor to serve you, Your Highness," MIB2 trailed off, pulling the trigger, splattering the walls with the meat of his brain.