Regrets (A Shadow of Doubt Part 7)

Brent kicked the gun away, causing it to hit the barrel and echo out the warehouse. He immediately got up, ready to leave. All the repressed feelings from his childhood grew and overcame his mind. The walls were closing in. Closer and closer. Brent’s mind was going into meltdown. He dropped his gun and hit a wall of the warehouse, sliding down it, mimicking the night of his mother’s death. Everything was ending. Who? How? Why? The unanswered questions burned into his mind. Brent crashed.
He breathed, quickly and attempted to catch back his sanity. In, out, in, out, like he was taught. Very slowly, his mind re-gathered and his sense came to. He could hear buzzing. Continuing to breath in and out, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his vibrating phone. After slowly removing it, he flicked it open.
Now you know I can get you anything.
Trust my information.
Be careful what you wish for.
Your mole is located at 1778 World-City Plaza.
11th Floor.
D.
Brent knew that his contact had a point. Even if it wasn’t the same gun, they still know what weapon killed his mother. Very little people knew who Brent really was, that’s what made him such a good asset. That’s what kept him alive all these years. He studied the text. World-City Plaza was in a construction area of the big city. A few years back, a series of terrorist attacks left a small section of the city – around 4 blocks to be exact – severely damaged, leaving few buildings standing, those of which were being re-vamped. 1778 should be one of those, considering it still had an 11th floor. Brent was still shaken up, but was sure it wasn’t the same gun. The blood he thought had been on his hands had gone. Brent picked up his gun back up, leaving the fake behind. He may indeed have a clue to end this horrific chapter in his life once and for all. He just hoped to himself that this wasn’t another misleading trick.
Brent drove along the highway. It was abandoned at this time of night, so he had nothing to worry about. About the road that is. He was worrying about everything else as if his mind was not built for anything else. Eventually he arrived. This section of the city had been abandoned for a good few years, even after it began construction. The city was a mess. Terrorists everywhere, potentially nowhere was safe, so no one was going to lose sleep over a few unfinished buildings. Brent pulled up and got out of the car. Looking up made the building looked like a drawing half finished. Somewhere in there was the answer to all the shit that had gone on. Someone was going to answer for it; Brent had just hoped he wasn’t going to be the one answering. If Deist was right and the mole was in this building, then they would have protection. Brent was able to take on a good few men in a fire fight, but he wasn’t prepared to die this close to the end. He pulled out his phone once again and sent a quick message to Jacob;
Lead on the mole, need backup
1778 World-City Plaza
Gettz
Brent drew his handgun and went into the building. There was no one in the reception. No cameras, nothing. Power was still on though, along with the industrial elevator. Brent figured that the upper floors would almost definitely have armed guests, so he decided to skip out the middle man and risk taking the elevator. He noticed the elevator had buttons going up to the 15th floor, but decided that – as much fun as it would be – just to press the 11th button. Slowly with screeches, the elevator climbed its way to the 11th floor, and with a slight ping, it arrived. The doors pulled open and Brent dived out, aiming his handgun to eye’s length. The floor was completely furnished. Loose wiring was all over the floors and the blue tint of computer monitors shadowed the walls. Directly ahead of the elevators exit path was a single seat, placed in front of 6 monitors and a single person sitting in it, like a cliché action film set-up, as if someone was making this up as it went alone. Brent slowly walked up to the chair, being careful not to trip on the cables and not to take his sights off the chair. It was definitely a real person. Brent got at least 5 feet from the chair before he heard a voice.
“I knew it was only a short matter of time, before you would end up being here.”
The voice was hauntingly familiar. Within a few seconds, Brent immediately knew who was sitting in the chair, even though it was impossible. The chair turned just enough so its occupant was fully visible to Brent, staring him square in the face. It was Lucas.