"A terrifying truth—being watched feels surprisingly good," Eddie chuckled.
"Cut the jokes; this is anything but good. I'm ready to resign. After this assignment, a quick handover and I retire clean." Kevin laughed.
"You never told us? Bit sudden." Chris looked surprised. "Retirement's fine—steady beats living day-to-day."
Eddie sensed something off. "Hope so. Where are you headed?"
Kevin eyed Maria and lowered his voice. "Eddie, your guest is a Federation black-list fugitive. Hosting her could land you in hot water."
Eddie flicked a cigarette forward. "No trouble. Bring it on. I'd love to see who's so fearless." Then whispered something more.
Kevin's eyes flashed, half anger, half doubt.
"By the way, TerraSave's arrived and setting up on the far side of the woods. Word is a couple's getting married here—right now. Go take a look." Chris pointed.
"What about you lot? Not going to freeload a free meal?" Eddie shot back.
The remark left everyone speechless. Freeload? They weren't short of cash; if they attended, they'd bring a cash-stuffed red envelope.
Piers shrugged. "Brother-in-law, we'll pass. Still on assignment."
The two groups split. Eddie went to crash the wedding feast; Chris and company went to investigate. Arias bore no hostility toward them—BSAA didn't grab drug lords; barging in would only earn resentment and be seen as credit-stealing.
Arias held a champagne flute as a waiter passed with a tray. "So you're BSAA? Impressive—taking down bioweapons. I'd donate if your HQ accepted ill-gotten gains."
Hard to imagine a criminal funding welfare for cops. Arrogant and over the top.
"We're here to investigate local bioweapons incidents—everything points to you." Chris raised his glass.
"What if it's a frame-up?" Arias asked, swirling his drink.
"Then we catch the real culprit." Chris said firmly.
"Need me to come in for questioning?" Arias finally asked the key question.
Tension crackled; Chris's team fingers hovered near holsters.
Chris shook his head. "Not necessary. Just provide leads. Personally, I loathe every bioweapon."
Arias nodded. "I agree. I'll hand over evidence. And I don't see viruses solely as weapons—enhancement is viable too."
Chris thought of Eddie and Claire—both clearly virus-enhanced yet doing fine, even raising a daughter. Proof the approach worked.
While they talked, Eddie arrived at the wedding venue. A short-haired woman, distracted, bumped into him and tumbled onto the grass—luckily unhurt.
"Oops!" the short-haired girl yelped. A white wedding dress spilled from her bag.
Eddie helped her up. "Sorry. Are you the bride?"
She quickly stuffed the gown away. "No—just the bridesmaid. My fault. Sorry!"
"bridesmaid? Pretty. Wait—any sisters?" Eddie blinked—she looked exactly like Rebecca.
She looked puzzled. "No. I grew up in a European orphanage. No sisters. You've got the wrong person."
"You look like a friend of mine. Not hitting on you—promise." Eddie explained.
She giggled. "I know. I'm Sarah. Dr. Eddie, you're funny. Gotta run—see you around!" She dashed off with the gown.
Chapter 558: The bridesmaid Outshines the Bride
Kathy's expression turned odd, but she said nothing—none of her business.
The wedding was packed with people—white, Black—all of them apparently members of some aid society, much like TerraSave, offering unconditional help just to make the world a little better.
Arias had barely taken a seat before he strolled over with Chris, both of them laughing and chatting.
Eddie was stunned. Weren't these two supposed to be mortal enemies who drew guns the moment they met?
The legendary pair of human-outline artists, the rooftop tap-dance duo?
Especially when he pictured their gun-fu routine—absolutely legendary. Firing point-blank and missing every shot; true human-outline artistry. Ridiculous, yet somehow predictable.
"If anyone filmed you two clowns, something awful would probably go viral," Eddie said, glass in hand, arm around Maria.
"It's beautiful here, isn't it? Perfect for a wedding. One day, I'll get married right here." Arias ignored Eddie; the man was trouble, so why invite it?
Diago walked up, patted Eddie's shoulder. "Take good care of my daughter." Then he whispered something in Arias's ear.
"Excuse me—my memorial service is about to begin. Dr. Eddie, my apologies for not replying earlier; I was lost in thought. You're remarkably talented, and I admire you. We must have dinner sometime. I practically watched Maria grow up—please look after her." Arias sounded genuinely sorry; the man had manners.
Whether the man might turn dark because friends or family had died horribly, Eddie couldn't care less.
"I'll take care of her—no worries. Seeing things through is my life motto!" Eddie declared righteously.
Sure—knock a girl up and call it giving her hope. Talk about noble; there was simply no comeback.
"Good." Diago nodded, relieved; his daughter was entrusted to someone, and he could rest easy.
Meanwhile, in the Western Federation's command room, Kaplan had unexpectedly appeared. Drone footage showed that bastard Eddie on-site.
"Heh-heh, Eddie, it's God who wants you dead—not me!" Kaplan's eyes gleamed with madness.
Not long ago he'd taken a call from his wife Britney; the bizarre content would have made him explode. He never imagined he'd become nothing but a toy for her amusement.
Even having the neighbor next door cuckold you wasn't this tragic. It drove Kaplan insane; he wanted to slaughter Britney and Eddie on the spot, but he couldn't be that direct.
Between Britney's family influence and Eddie's own power, Kaplan couldn't strike openly. He had to lie low and wait for the perfect chance. Now, this memorial for the drug-lord's relatives was exactly that chance—an ideal moment for revenge and venting his rage.
The memorial and the wedding were less than five hundred metres apart. Holding a celebration of life beside a farewell to the dead felt unsettling.
Foreign mind-sets must differ; even after living here so long, Eddie still couldn't accept a wedding next door to a funeral.
He'd only come because Nikolai stirred the pot; his real task—locating Sergei's true hideout—was done. This was just final cover, nothing more.
Nikolai's death could be written off as a back-stabbing gone wrong, or as a stepping-stone while Eddie hit on girls—nothing to do with Sergei's plan.
The ceremony began on schedule: a rather odd couple—a skinny young white guy and an obese middle-aged Black woman, clearly twenty-plus years apart.
Reason couldn't explain it; you could only say love is mighty.
Eddie tossed in his cash gift. Halfway through, Chris and the others drifted over for drinks; apparently nothing worth investigating was happening elsewhere.
Presidential Agent Kevin didn't show; he stayed at the memorial instead.
The toasting round soon arrived. After the Priest's blessing the newly-weds came table to table with glasses—much like Eastern banquets, except you could roam freely and crash any table; nobody minded.