scene xviii; backdated to friday
[Mayfield's just a goldmine of fun new experiences, isn't it? really, there's nothing quite like dragging yourself home after being shot only to find the brained remains of your not!dad all over the living room. it's a gruesome sight, and while he's witnessed far worse it still leaves him feeling unsettled and angry. after sloppily taping gauze over his leg as a makeshift pressure bandage, his first order of business is to move the body. ...or that would be the case if his attempts at moving it didn't fail so miserably and only result in more of a mess thanks to his current state. he quickly discards the idea and tries to clean up as much brain matter and blood as he can instead, first draping a piece of fabric over Hong Kong’s face (or what’s left of it) and moving the bloodied bat he found nearby to the yard.
when he finally gets around to picking up the phone, he sounds bitter and impatient, though there’s an undertone of something else - exhaustion, maybe. human bodies aren't cut out for this kind of thing and dizziness from blood loss is starting to overtake the dull pain of his headache.]
phone;
I need to speak with someone who has the medical skill and equipment necessary to handle bullet wounds. [a pause, followed by the click of buttons as he filters his next message. he respects Hong Kong enough to keep news of his death off the phonelines, but there are still people who need to be notified.]
phone; [filtered to Hong Kong’s family]
...Hong Kong is dead. I’ve done what I can, but I'm unable to move his body to a more appropriate location and require assistance. If you choose to help, be warned that his killer was not humane.