Baccano! - Volume 21 - Chapter 16

Chapter 16 The Hero Doesn’t Show

There once was a man named Nader Schasschule.

He was a hopeless small-time crook who’d started out as a flimflam artist. He’d wormed his way into various organizations, then used his position in each as a stepping stone to get into a bigger outfit.

He’d sacrificed his former companions to accumulate trace amounts of power. Anybody could have killed him at any time, and it wouldn’t have been the least bit surprising.

Even he had been a kid at one point, of course.

Was his villainy the result of a dark past? The answer was no. He’d been a regular boy, the sort you could find anywhere. He hadn’t been abused by his parents or suffered anything traumatic, but as he grew, he’d drifted toward the bad. That was Nader for you.

But he hadn’t always been a criminal.

It was back when he hadn’t been all that warped, although he certainly hadn’t been innocent. During his boyhood, just once, he’d told somebody about his dream.

I’m gonna be a hero.

It was a simple, truly childish dream, revealed to a younger girl who was his childhood friend.

Something very small had prompted his declaration.

The girl lived next door, and he’d seen that she was unusually discouraged. In an attempt to cheer her up, he’d said the first thing that popped into his head.

That was all it was.

On the other hand, the girl had been completely thrilled. “Nader, I just know you can do it,” she’d said, beaming so brightly that the boy couldn’t back down.

At some point in his enthusiastic rambling, that irresponsible remark had become his real dream.

He’d become a hero and protect his young friend’s smile.

It was a pure, uncomplicated dream—which was why when the boy grew up, it didn’t take him long to forget it.

Still, Nader’s constant search for more power might have been a remnant of that dream.

You couldn’t be a hero without power.

Nader had held on to that understanding ever since he was a kid.

And now—

—he didn’t have enough power to claim the title of “hero.” He didn’t have the courage to overcome his weakness. He wasn’t even as kind as the average guy.

He was just a loser.

Now, after he’d realized he couldn’t acquire power as a villain, either, Nader’s old dream rose in his mind again.

He had spent many years bound by his current reality and his past, and there were things he still didn’t know.

One was just how deeply his childhood friend was counting on him.

Another was that she was being dragged into the same vortex of fate that had caught him.

And yet another—was that his own past mistakes were coming home to roost, in the form of murderous hatred.

Late at nightA certain lodging house in Manhattan

“How did this even happen…?”

Nader had just returned from making a contract with Eve Genoard. He walked into the dining hall and immediately slumped facedown over a nearby table.

Roy Maddock, the lodging house’s caretaker, called to him. “Hey, what’s the matter? From the looks of you, I guess it didn’t work out?”

“No… I got a contract. I’m gonna attend that casino party as one of the gamblers.”

“Well, that’s great.”

“Like hell it is! Dammit… Why would anybody trust a guy like me that easily?” Nader had been dragged into all sorts of incidents, and his life wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

He hadn’t known whether he should fight destiny or keep on running. Meanwhile, fate’s vortex was trying to pull him toward the center of something huge.

That was why Nader had made up his mind: If he got one more push, he’d believe in this current and step into it voluntarily. He’d stand and fight Hilton and the rest of Huey Laforet’s people.

“If I manage to trick one of the rich folks who got an invitation and sneak into the Runorata casino event, then I’ll charge straight through to the end. Even if it means risking my life,” he’d told himself.

In practical terms, it was impossible.

Nader had set that condition so he’d have a reason to run away. He probably wouldn’t be able to connect with somebody rich in the first place.

But then, thanks to a confluence of coincidences, he’d gotten an introduction to the wealthy Eve Genoard.

Still, the girl had only inherited her parents’ fortune. She wouldn’t be attending a mafia party.

With a certainty that strongly resembled hope, Nader had assumed his struggles would end there.

“…All right. I do have some conditions.”

“I don’t need the money. In exchange, I want you to help me persuade my brother to let me take him home.”

Nader had never dreamed he’d end up adding another problem to the collection he already had, but he’d stumbled even deeper into the swamp.

“How can she believe in some hood she just met?” Nader complained. He didn’t know that the girl’s older brother was a far bigger lowlife than he was, so Eve made no sense to him. He was terribly confused.

“That’s the kinda girl she is. She’s a good kid, but you just know she’s not going to have an easy life,” Roy said, as if this wasn’t his problem. Nader felt like complaining about the lack of sympathy, but then he remembered it wasn’t, in fact, Roy’s problem, so he kept his face on the table.

“Now all I can do is brace myself for what comes next. Although it’s more like I’m strangling myself.”

“Hey, think positive. I risked my life doing something stupid way back when, but by some miracle, it worked out. Not that I remember much about what it is I actually did.” Roy’s eyes went to his wrist.

Raising his head slightly, Nader spotted a large scar there.

A suicide attempt, perhaps. He didn’t know what had happened, but he understood that Roy had a colorful past of his own.

“…Risked your life, huh?” With a masochistic smile, Nader buried his face in the arms he’d crossed on the tabletop. His forehead came to rest on his false right hand; he felt its coolness just above his eye.

“It’s no good. I’m no good.” He began speaking through the gap between his face and the table, his voice like a draft. “I’d made up my mind to risk my life if things went well, but now that I’ve gotta go through with it, I’m scared out of my gourd. Christ, what the hell?”

As Nader kept complaining, Roy scratched his head. “I mean, it’s not like I don’t know how you feel… I tried dope, myself, but it just fucked up everything.”

“My life’s already fucked up, and I didn’t even need dope. I knew there was no way a fella like me could ever be a hero.”

“A hero, huh?” Roy sat down in a chair a little ways away. “That word can mean a lot of different things. Some guys do nothing but whine and cry and run around in a panic, but they still get to be ‘heroes’ as long as they luck into victory and waltz off with the glory, you know what I mean? I can’t exactly give you advice if I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”

“Why would I be getting advice from some stranger?”

In response to this completely natural question, Roy said, “Well, I’m technically the caretaker here. Besides, the doc told me to look out for you. Don’t wanna lose sleep ’cause you up and died on me.”

“…Why does everybody bother with a nobody like me?” With his face still on his arms, Nader kept up the negativity. “It’s not right. You’ve got it all wrong. People ain’t supposed to be nice to schmucks. Upham told you what kind of lowlife I was, right?”

“……”

I’m not gonna get through to him no matter what I say, Roy thought. He decided to keep his mouth shut for a while, but then—

“…There was one,” Nader muttered. His tone had changed just a little.

“Huh?” Roy couldn’t see the other man’s expression, as his face was still on the table.

“A fella who seemed like a hero among heroes. He wasn’t a veteran soldier or nothin’. We just happened to run into each other on the street—some fancy-pants show-off out with his girl.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Nothing important. I got into some trouble, had the Russo Family after me… And that fella saved me. A guy he didn’t know from Adam.” Nader’s voice was barely audible, as if he were talking to himself. “It had nothing to do with him, but he broke right into a firefight, risked his life to save my ass. He didn’t even want anything in return.”

“…In times like these? That’s really something.”

“Frankly, I’d only just met the guy, but he was like a god to me. I might’ve cried a little.” He chuckled, remembering. The smile soon disappeared, and he started running himself down again. “Yeah, it really got to me. Heroes ain’t some fairy tale. Even a guy who’s just passing through can be one if he tries.” Clenching his left hand into a tight fist, Nader thumped the table with it. “And look at me! I can’t be anything!”

“Whoa there, calm down.”

“Why…? Why am I like this?! Why can’t I be like him?! Goddammit!”

“Mm… Well, I get it. I think those people are incredible, too.”

Nader’s thin shrieks sounded a little like sobs. Unsure how to react, Roy looked up at the ceiling. Then he just said what he thought, without trying to sugarcoat anything. “The thing is, becoming a hero ain’t easy. If you start goin’ on about courage and wind up in an early grave, you’re not a hero. You’re an idiot. It’s possible that the people who get called heroes are just the idiots who were lucky enough to survive.”

“……”

He rejected Nader’s idea from its roots. “Now here’s a question: Do you need to be one? A hero, I mean.”

“…What?”

“Do you want to be a hero so the world will pat you on the back?”

“Are you screwing with me?” Lifting his head slightly, Nader glared through his dyed hair at Roy.

But Roy’s face was dead serious; his mind was working double-time as he spoke. “That ain’t it, is it? What I’m getting at is—the important thing isn’t becoming a hero in general. It’s who you’re becoming a hero for. Right?”

“……”

“If there’s nobody you want to protect, then I’d say it’s fine to struggle and fight and do whatever it takes to stay alive. If you find somebody who fits the bill someday, you can start trying to impress ’em then.” Roy gave a self-mocking smile. “Not that I can talk. I had a girl I cared about right there with me, and I never did manage to show her why I was worth it.”

Nader went quiet. Right now, he was far more grateful for those words than he would have been for a clumsy attempt at comfort, a perfunctory You can do it if you try. That fact made him feel guilty.

I can’t even do that, he thought.

“…Thanks. I appreciate the sentiment, pal.” Nader had found his composure again, but he hadn’t cheered up. His face was as glum as ever. “Still, I bet even doing whatever it takes to survive doesn’t work unless you’re Davy Crockett or something.”

When Nader brought up the famous hero of the Alamo, Roy added, perhaps unnecessarily, “Crockett ended up dying in battle anyway.”

“……”

“Whoops, sorry, sorry. Still, at least you’re not in the Alamo, eh? I don’t see the Mexican army around.”

Texas had once been a Mexican territory, and during its fight for independence, the Alamo became the site of a ferocious (and eventually famous) battle. During this historically bloody fight, a defending force of less than three hundred men had been wiped out by at minimum fifteen hundred Mexican troops.

During their famed last stand, the defenders had inflicted heavy casualties surpassing their total number on their enemy, and the battle had since become the subject of numerous novels and movies.

The bottom line was that the defenders had been massacred, down to the last man.

Nader’s chances of survival were almost certainly better.

He knew that.

That didn’t mean he could picture himself surviving, though.

“…I wonder how that felt. Being surrounded by thousands of soldiers.”

“Maybe they were all fired up and hell-bent on winning. Not that I’d know.” Roy shrugged. “In a situation like that, an actual storybook hero would win. You and me, though—we don’t have that kind of power. That’s something we just have to accept.”

“I know, but hearing it stings pretty bad.”

“I’m including myself there, so hopefully that stings a little less. If you don’t have any power, you just have to come to terms with that and compromise. Even if they don’t have terrorists gunning for them, the way you do, people are starving or freezing to death out there these days.” Roy was smiling, but he wasn’t pulling his punches. “If a hero existed, he’d be saving those folks first.”

It was a cruel fact, one he already knew well.

“At the very least, you can bet he wouldn’t have time to save fellas like us.”

“……”

“Let’s do what it takes to stay alive. We can’t do anything if we’re dead.”

Then everything began to converge…

…leaving no time for a hero to show up and save them all.