Baccano! - Volume 22 - Chapter 28

Chapter 28 Communication Is No Longer Possible

Somewhere in New York

“We’ve got nothing to do until night falls, amigo. Hey, why don’t we go cut up some mafiosi from other families while we have time to kill?”

As Maria Barcelito walked, her two Japanese katana clinked at her waist.

Luck heaved a deep sigh. “Maria, it isn’t clear who our friends and enemies are yet. Why would we make more enemies for ourselves now of all times?”

“But…”

“No buts. That’s enough.”

Maria wasn’t the only one guarding Luck Gandor. In addition to the Gandor Family’s regular members, Gunmeister Smith and his young apprentice were keeping the perimeter secure. So was Alkie, who already stank of booze, even though it was early afternoon.

“Heh-heh… Exposing your life to the guns around you while rousing yourself to action. You’re quite insane. And after our previous battle, we’re now allies. Who’d have thought? I suppose it means lunacy knows its own kind.”

“Master, you would leave a stronger impression if you guarded him in silence.”

“Hmm… I see. I’ll be silent, then. Silent until the moment time is saturated with insanity.”

As Smith and his apprentice talked, Alkie was knocking back liquor from a hip flask. Maria, the one who stood out the most, was dressed as a saloon girl. With her at its center, the group was walking down a major street.

Luck was intentionally showing the people around him that the Gandors had hired dangerous hitmen.

The ordinary folks in his territory would have thought, Maria’s one thing, but it’s rare to see Luck with a posse that size.

However, a different thought would have occurred to people who knew about their situation.

The Gandors are walking around with hitmen—and they’re the button men the Runoratas once hired…?

Technically, this could be seen as a way of taunting the Runorata Family.

In order to distinguish their friends from their enemies at the casino, Luck was intentionally bluffing the surrounding organizations—specifically, the Runoratas.

“What if those are hitmen, not guards? Who’s the target?”

“What outfits are hostile toward them? That would be us, the Runorata Family.”

“Don’t tell me they’re planning to take a shot at the boss…”

Just a little bit would do.

Simply putting that doubt into their minds would restrict what his opponents said and thought.

They’d made peace with Bartolo Runorata concerning the 1932 incident. Despite that, in light of what Melvi Dormentaire had done, Luck had judged that cracks were developing in their treaty.

How much of Melvi’s actions did Bartolo Runorata know? How much freedom was he giving his head dealer? One of the objectives behind this taunt was to draw out even a little of that information.

As the group walked along, they began to hear a certain sound—and their fate very slightly shifted course.

“Hmm. What’s that noise? It’s annoying, amigo.”

“It’s echoing off the buildings. I can’t really tell where it’s coming from…” Luck tried to determine what the mysterious sound might be, but nothing specific came to mind. There wasn’t enough variation in the noise for it to be a code, and it had been going on too long to be some sort of signal.

Just then, Alkie stopped gulping his liquor and hiccuped, his shoulders jumping. “Oh… Thash fruhm Central Park.”

“You can tell?”

“If I cudden tell a thing like ’at, it’d be time fer me to retire.”

“Hmm…”

Luck found himself presented with two choices.

Should he go check it out, or should he assume it was a trap, return to the office, and tighten his security?

No. Right now, if something in the city isn’t right, even if it’s a little thing, I want information.

If it were something completely unrelated or some sort of malfunctioning siren, it wouldn’t be an issue. He’d been a mafia boss for more than five years, though, and his instincts were sounding the alarm.

They told him something was about to happen in Central Park.

“…I’ll go see what it is. Maria, Smith, Alkie—come with me, if you would. The rest of you, return to the office and tell my brothers to be on the alert.”

“But…are you sure you’ll be all right with just them?” one of his men asked, sounding worried.

Luck nodded firmly. “You know I don’t die.”

A few minutes later, Luck and the others were walking down a wide road in the direction of Central Park.

“Shouldn’t you send the boy back as well?”

“No need. This fella’s lunacy isn’t that weak.”

“…I see.”

Smith was taking his apprentice around with him as usual, and Luck sighed.

Suddenly, screams let out behind him, mingling with the ongoing noise.

“Hmm…?” Luck turned, eyes narrowing.

For a moment, he suspected he might be hallucinating.

But the sight soon became undeniable reality, and it was closing in fast.

A bear was tearing hell for leather down the middle of the road, with a man and woman clinging to its back.

Luck recognized the man and woman, but the sight of Ladd and Graham following the bear was especially bewildering.

Their approach felt as if it took a very long time—but in fact, it happened all in a moment.

The enormous bear, a car, and two motorcycles raced right past them.

Graham seemed to have noticed Luck and Smith, waving his wrench cheerfully at them from the roof of the car. Before he had time to say anything, though, the vehicle roared off after the bear.

Luck was stunned.

He remained silent for a little while, but Maria’s oblivious comment brought him back to himself.

“Say, amigo? You think it’s okay if I slash that bear?”

The workers’ lodging house

“Hey, what happened last night? If you didn’t come back today, I was going to give your room away,” said Roy Maddock.

Nader shrugged. “Sorry. I was out on the town. Say, what’s that noise outside?”

“Dunno. It’s been going on for quite a while now. I don’t think it’s coming from nearby, though.”

“Is that right…?” Apparently Nader wasn’t all that interested. Leaving Roy for the moment, he walked toward his room at a brisk pace.

Once he’d made sure no one was watching, he took the fortune he’d won at the Martillo Family’s casino from its hiding place under his bed.

It’s still here, huh? I thought somebody might have walked off with it…

Nader stuffed the money into the bag Ladd had given him, setting aside a single bundle of bills.

Then he left the room, found Roy again, and held the bundle out to him.

“I’m moving out today, at least for a while. If the mess I’m in settles down, I might take advantage of your hospitality again, but… Well. For now, here’s my rent.”

“Whoa, what the—?! Where’d you get this kinda dough?! That’s way too much for rent, chief. I can’t take this!”

“Give the change to the doc, then. I owe him more than I could ever repay… Frankly, it’s the sort of debt money couldn’t cover anyway.” Handing the money to Roy, Nader added, “If you’d like, keep half of that for yourself. You helped me out quite a bit… People may come by looking for me; if they do, think of it as an apology for the nuisance.”

He’d only known Roy a few days, but Nader’s eye for people told him the man wasn’t the type to take the money and run. Even if he did, it wouldn’t matter.

I’m just doing this to satisfy my conscience anyway.

That was why he’d included enough to thank the doctor as well.

Roy sighed and shook his head. “I mean it—don’t trouble yourself on my account… Oh, Who’s bringing the soup kitchen groceries by today; I’ll give him the money for the doc. Who’s a real stand-up guy.”

Does he mean Ladd’s pal? Well, I doubt he’d have the guts to run off with it.

With that thought in mind, Nader responded a bit absently and walked away.

As he reached the stairs that would take him down to the front door, someone he knew called to him. “You’re leaving, Nader?”

It was Upham, another former member of the Lemures. Nader had approached him about selling out the organization, then gotten sold out instead. But if Upham wasn’t out for blood now, neither was Nader. He considered the score settled after the incident the other day. At this point, he was actually impressed with how neatly Upham had done it.

After all, none of the people who’d sided with him and completely betrayed the Lemures had survived.

And if he’d made it off that train alive, Upham either had incredible luck or was extremely skilled at maneuvering.

“That’s about the size of it. Sorry about the other day.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?”

“Can’t say, pal. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but…Hilton’s in town. Chané ambushed me yesterday, too.”

“Wha—?!” Upham turned pale.

“I think Huey’s here, too. Watch your step out there, all right?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Wait, wasn’t Huey in…?” Upham’s voice trailed off until the words were barely audible. He hadn’t believed it, either. He hadn’t been able to picture Huey Laforet cooling his heels in jail for years on end.

“Uh… How was Chané?”

“Same as always. Deadly as a praying mantis.”

“I see… So she’s doing well, huh?”

“Hey, fella, you wouldn’t happen to be…? Nah, never mind. Well, the odds aren’t great, but if I last till next week, I’ll see you around.”

Upham’s attitude made it pretty clear he was carrying a torch for Chané. She had amputated Nader’s hand, though, and she’d almost killed him again last night, so he really didn’t feel like playing cupid.

I can’t imagine that twist being somebody’s girl anyway.

As he thought to himself, he heard Roy—who’d come down to the entrance hall with him—talking with Who.

“What’s the matter, Who? You look beat.”

“Well, see, there was this bear this morning…”

“A bear?”

“Yeah… Never mind. It’s the kinda story you’d have to see in the papers to believe. Still, who’d have thought Isaac and Miria had pals in the DOI?”

As Who was muttering about that, Roy handed him the money he’d gotten from Nader.

“?”

“Oh, that money’s…”

When Who heard the story, he called to Nader. “Hey, the doc’s probably not gonna accept this. He told me the cops paid for your care. He’s one of those guys who won’t take more than he feels he’s earned.”

“…Maybe so. Well, consider it as a donation toward the free meals here. If he still won’t take it… I earned that with money I got from Ladd. Just pass it back to him.”

“From Ladd? Sure, I guess, but… Look, Ladd says whatever the hell he wants sometimes. I’d watch yourself.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Nader had just accepted some of that “whatever the hell,” and he was wearing a wry smile as he left the lodging house.

“Hmm…?”

That was when he realized that the sound he’d been hearing had fallen silent.

“Well, I guess it’s fine.”

Assuming it had nothing to do with him, Nader kept on walking.

He didn’t realize he’d managed to skate by without being spotted only because Hilton had focused on the source of that noise.

The lucky con artist walked quickly through the alleys of Manhattan.

His fate and his life were now chips for the betting table, and he was headed into a gamble to trick the world itself.

The Martillo Family’s underground casino

“Huh? Did that noise just stop?”

Firo had been curious about the peculiar sound, but he’d kept working under the assumption that it wasn’t worth leaving the casino for. But when the sound abruptly dwindled, it caught his attention again.

“What was that? I seriously doubt it, but… Don’t tell me Huey’s outfit is pulling something.”

Christopher had been talking to Ricardo in a corner of the casino, but now he made his way over to Firo. “I’ll go take a look. If I find anything, I’ll report back later.”

“Good idea. Ricardo’s a fine kid, but you’re just noisy and in the way here.”

“Wow. Only a real friend would give it to you straight like that, wouldn’t they?!” Cackling, Christopher gave a self-deprecating shrug.

Firo didn’t look up. “Yeah, basically,” he replied lightly.

“Huh?”

Christopher hadn’t been expecting that. His red eyes widened for a moment.

“Well, not ‘friends,’ exactly, but we’ve got a connection I couldn’t shake if I tried. So…don’t do anything too crazy. It’s sad to lose a fella you know, even if that fella is somebody like you. Plus, if we ended up fighting and I had to kill you, I’d lose sleep over it no matter how bad of a person you were. If you say we’re friends, then don’t make me worry about you.”

The words were half-sarcastic, and he didn’t stop working as he spoke.

Still, he caught Christopher off guard. “That’s a shock. You’re too nice for your own good, aren’t you, Firo? Do you say things like that to all your friends?”

“I’m saying it to you because you’re trouble… Honestly, y’know, aside from the family and the guys I’ve known most of my life, I don’t have too many friends. Isaac and Miria might count. They’re trouble in a different sense of the word, but still. And then Czes is more like a kid brother…” Firo smiled wryly.

In the full knowledge of his situation, Christopher brought up another name. “…What about that girl, Ennis?”

“Ennis is family. Same as the Martillos,” Firo said immediately, although his hands stopped as he gave the answer. He turned to look at Christopher.

His eyes were unclouded—so terribly clear that they sent a shudder down Christopher’s spine.

“I see… Well, as a fellow homunculus, I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Thanks for the thought; I appreciate it. This is our problem, though. The Russos are our guests; we can’t cause trouble for you… Hey, wait. Are you allowed to just go around saying that?”

Christopher and Ennis weren’t the same type of homunculus. While they both wouldn’t age, Ennis was fully immortal, and Christopher could be killed.

Either way, it didn’t strike Firo as something the general public should know about. Was it okay to let Ricardo Russo hear about it?

Firo’s glance made his thoughts pretty obvious, and Christopher answered nonchalantly. “Sure, it’s fine. Ricardo knows plenty already. Aaall sorts of things.” He shrugged.

Firo was puzzled, but he thought, They must be close enough for that kind of trust, so he let it slide and turned back to his work. “Be careful out there. With your skills, I doubt we need to put a guard on you, but you be sure to keep your boss safe, all right? The big event may be tomorrow, but there’s no telling what’s gonna happen today, either.”

“I know. Okay, I’m off for a bit.”

With that, Christopher left the casino.

After a little while, Firo spoke to Ricardo, keeping his eyes on his work. “Hey, Ricardo. I dunno what your connection to that guy is, but are you getting by okay?”

Ricardo didn’t answer.

“Huh?” Firo turned back, scanning the room. The Russo Family boss was nowhere to be seen.

“…Did he head out with Christopher?”

As they climbed the casino’s stairs side by side, Christopher spoke to Ricardo. “You could stay here, you know.”

“No… I think I should go with you.”

“And? What’s Sham saying?”

“That it’s starting already. He says the immortal from the DOI is there, too, although he doesn’t know why. You should be careful.”

Ricardo had a mental link to Sham, a collective who worked under Huey, and she was able to talk with them in her mind.

Them was a bit misleading, since there was just one main personality, but Sham’s awareness was scattered all across America. He was simultaneously one and many, and his job was gathering intelligence for Huey.

Since Ricardo shared a corner of Sham’s consciousness, she could tell what was happening in other places. That said, she tended to learn information she didn’t want to know and often found herself reluctantly driven to act on it.

“So Salomé and Chi and Sickle and the rest have run into that violent relative of yours and the nutcase who fights with a wrench? Sickle’s group just keeps meeting that guy, don’t they?”

“…Yes. Although I doubt Salomé knows about Graham and Uncle Ladd. To be honest, I can’t begin to predict what the bear or Isaac and Miria are going to do. Rail’s off doing something with that immortal kid Czes, so she’s not there.”

This obviously wasn’t a situation that was going to resolve itself peacefully. Christopher’s lips curved cheerfully, and he began skipping toward Central Park.

“You seem happy, Chris.”

“I do, don’t I?” Christopher gave a bright, feral smile, his heart soaring as he continued his jaunty footwork. “Central Park is Nature’s home right in the middle of the city. I’ll get to see everybody again as they plunge into chaos, surrounded by that natural environment. Life really is full of diversions, isn’t it? Not only that, but there’s a huge bear on the scene! What would be natural, or unnatural, for an unnaturally domesticated child of Nature to do in the midst of unnatural Nature? …Whoops. Even I lost track of where that sentence was going. Ha-ha!”

Ricardo gave a little sigh. “Chris, the things you say change every day. You and Graham would give each other a run for your money.”

“That guy changes by the second, though. Don’t pretend we’re the same.” Giving a fiendish smile full of fangs, Christopher lightly spread his arms wide and danced along, voicing the gratitude he felt to the patches of blue sky between the buildings.

“Well, let’s not worry about such trivial details. C’mon and dance! Dance! You can bet someone will have this unforeseen situation in the palm of their hand before too long. Let’s give that hand a good kick, shall we? Who for, you ask? Why, for the sake of someone chosen by Nature!”

Christopher kept yelling nonsense.

However, as Ricardo watched him go, she was sure of one thing.

Christopher was in an uncommonly good mood today. It was probably because he’d received an unambiguous admission of friendship (albeit a friendship he “couldn’t shake”) from someone he’d assumed didn’t even like him. Christopher had made a friend, and Ricardo envied him. Still, she decided to be happy for him, being another of his friends herself.

Ricardo didn’t let those emotions show. She only told Sham about them privately, with a hint of pride.

Central Park

“Not good… This is not good…”

Shaft—one of the Shams—had heard Ricardo’s bragging, and he was turning pale at the idea that the situation was about to get worse.

O-on top of all this, Christopher is on his way over? And he’s already wound up?

He ground his teeth. He was staring at something.

A chaotic battle.

The situation was so confused that there were no other words to describe it.

It had started a few minutes earlier.

The bear’s appearance had put Salomé in a good mood, but as he’d switched off the sound system, he’d been puzzled by the people who’d arrived with it.

The first ones to get a handle on the situation had been Graham, who was brandishing his wrench on the roof of the car—and Sickle and a few other members of Larva who’d fought him in Chicago.

“Wha…?! What’s that guy doing here?!” Sickle asked.

Frank squeaked in fear, and a shudder ran through his big frame, while Chi looked sour.

Meanwhile, Graham looked around, confused. Then he screamed and pointed his enormous wrench at a whiskered man. “Aaah!”

Sensing that a fight was brewing, the man had put some distance between himself and Sickle’s group. In other words, it was the Poet.

“It’s him! The god of word-souls! What are you doing here?!”

“……”

The Poet hadn’t expected to be singled out first, and below his hat, his eyes widened.

Salomé frowned at him. “…Are these friends of yours, Poet?”

Meanwhile, Ladd had stepped out of the car and was rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. “You know that fella with the beard?” he asked Graham.

“What joy… Let me tell you a joyful story! Ladd, you are looking upon a god! The god of words, who governs their souls! Once you hear his voice, a breeze blows through the landscape of your mind, the wide world bursts into song, the wind rages, the songbirds dance, volcanoes erupt, taxes go up, and my heart is down for the count!”

As if in response, the Poet was explaining Graham to Salomé. “He is power. He is chaos. He is order. He is Good. If Fate truly is a wheel, then human ties are the door of an abandoned house surrounded by the ruts it has left behind! At times they lead to purgatory; at others, they beckon souls to an endless wasteland… Flee! Fly! The wheel turns, on and on! Alas, the closed ruts can never escape Fate… Thus life is carried to death and converted to life…”

“…Sickle, tell me what he said.”

At Salomé’s request, Sickle clicked his tongue irritably. “He says we’ve met this freak before. He’s dangerous, so run for it.”

“Run? Ha-ha-ha. Poet, Poet. Has your brain finally gone as funny as your tongue? ‘Run’? With all these Larva members here with us?” Salomé shook his head, as if the idea were ridiculous.

However, Sickle’s next words made his expression freeze.

“I’ll keep him busy. While I do, the rest of you run. Give up on catching the bear for now.”

She took a step forward, and the members of Larva exchanged looks.

“Wait, wait, wait, Sickle. Are you mocking the results of my research? They include you, Sickle. Your fighting skills alone are far beyond that of any ordinary person. At the right distance, I believe you could take down three shotgun-wielding mafiosi without sustaining any damage.”

“I see. That makes explaining simple, then. That guy’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than three shotguns.” As she spoke, Sickle was looking at her ankle, her face twisted with the memory of past humiliation. “He dislocated my leg joints with that wrench. In the middle of combat. He was fighting Frank, Chi, and Leeza at the same time, and he still…!”

Ladd was listening to their conversation, obviously entertained. He turned to Graham. “Oho, I see. Yeah, the guy with the beard seems like your type. I want to introduce him to that moron Smith; I bet that’d be fun. I can’t wait to see how that conversation pans out.”

“The god of word-souls and Mr. Smith?! Terrifying… Let me tell you a terrifying story. If we combine the lunatic landscape of Smith’s mind with the god of word-souls, what will become of the world? Will all the damage stay inside Smith? No, it will not! I bet a bunch of insane word-souls will turn into bullets and shoot out at the rest of us! Stars that churn like a sandstorm! Wind that blazes like lava! Endless, impossibly bright darkness! This is bad, Ladd—if we let those two meet, they’ll destroy the world!”

“What’s with that guy?! He just looks like a drunk to me!”

“He’s stone-cold sober. He doesn’t drink or do any kind of drugs—his brain is always busted like that. That’s what’s so scary about him. Even if we all jump him at once, we gotta be smart about it, or he’ll make us regret starting a fight.”

Sickle’s words perplexed her companions.

“That’s ridiculous. It’s not as if he’s the redheaded hitman!” Salomé shouted, remembering the incident with Felix—Claire Stanfield—just the other day.

Sickle wasn’t acquainted with Claire, so the remark went right over her head, but—

“…Huh?”

That response came from someone Salomé hadn’t expected.

“Hey, you over there. Fella. Did you just say ‘redheaded hitman’?”

“Who’s that man? Oh, he was on the watch list, wasn’t he…?” Taking documents out of his coat and flipping through them with a practiced hand, Salomé began to read what was written there. “Is he this ‘Ladd Russo’? And the one with the wrench is Graham Specter…” He sounded dubious.

Then he noticed something.

The Runorata Family’s twin guards had gotten off their motorbikes and were approaching the enormous bear.

“I see. They’d found it already, had they? Still, it was we who managed to lure it here. I believe we may consider our experiment a success.” As Salomé murmured, his interest in Ladd Russo had nearly evaporated—but then Salomé realized that Ladd seemed to have physically evaporated.

“Hmm…?”

The next instant, something hit Salomé from below. Out of a blind spot, the heel of a palm had struck his throat. Salomé grunted as the assailant clutched his neck and hoisted him high into the air with only one arm.

“Don’t you ignore me. I’ll get lonely, see?” The voice had a vicious edge to it.

Until a second ago, Ladd had been five yards away. In the moment Salomé had taken his eyes off him, he’d closed the distance and hit him with a surprise attack.

“Why you—! Let go of Salomé!”

The members of Larva had relaxed upon seeing the Runorata guards, believing reinforcements had arrived. They hadn’t been prepared for the sudden change in the situation, but now they rushed Ladd.

Before they got there, though, a silver disc blocked their way.

Or rather, Graham Specter was spinning his wrench so fast it looked like a solid disc, and he was using it as a shield to keep them at bay.

“Let me tell you a sad, sad story…”

Swinging around a shield that could easily become a lethal weapon, Graham nearly howled with excitement. “My brother Ladd is giving a lecture! A lesson in life and death… That’s his theory of education. He ain’t no teacher, but he teaches people anyway. I could never do that… Which means, well, you know, and so on, and so forth! So stay out of his way, wouldja?”

As Graham ended his terrifically self-absorbed speech, a member of Larva lunged at him—

—and the chaos began.

Inside the office of the restaurant and bar Alveare

“…Ronny still isn’t back?”

Molsa Martillo, the Martillo Family’s caposocietà, was speaking with Maiza Avaro, the family’s contaiuolo.

“No. He hasn’t sent word, either… This has never happened before.”

“Hmm…”

To Molsa, Maiza seemed superficially calm. However, his subtle gestures weren’t quite the same as usual; he was rattled.

“Well, he has ‘vanished suddenly’ before, from time to time. He told me it would happen when he joined the family. I took him on in the full knowledge of that, and Ronny has done enough work to make up for it. Wouldn’t you say so?”

“Yes. He’s saved the family time and time again.”

“The neighboring outfits probably think we can’t do anything if he’s not here. That includes the Runoratas.” Molsa chuckled.

Maiza hastily began to deny it. “That’s not—”

“Wait, not so fast. I didn’t say that to run us down.”

“?”

“I’m only saying this because I’m convinced that Ronny is fine, but…” Maiza didn’t physically react, but there was a question in his eyes. Molsa went on evenly. “What I’m getting at is that this is a juicy situation for us.”

“It is…?”

“We’ve got a whole bunch of outfits at that casino party, all in one place, and the Melvi kid who’s with the Runoratas messed with our family. Right now, the Martillos and the Runoratas look ready to go to the mattresses. Lots of people probably see it as a fight between a shark and a sardine… No, I bet they only see us as shark bait.”

As a matter of fact, the Martillo Family was one of the smallest syndicates in New York, and it didn’t have the sort of network the mafia outfits had. Like the Gandors, they were a tiny, independent organization that defended their small territory in isolation.

However, while their territory was small, it was Manhattan territory.

Lots of organizations would have liked to get their hands on those concessions if they could. The Runoratas probably thought the turf would make a perfect first step toward taking a bigger chunk of Manhattan.

“Not only that, but our linchpin Ronny Schiatto isn’t here… Isn’t that great? We don’t even have to pretend to be weak; the other guys have all let their guards down already. I know Bartolo Runorata isn’t a man to get careless, but from what I hear…I’m not sure that holds for Melvi, and he’s the one who picked a fight with us.”

“True, he does sound very confident in himself.”

Melvi Dormentaire bore a strong resemblance to Maiza’s little brother Gretto.

Maiza had mixed feelings about this, and he did want to know the other man’s real identity and where he’d come from. However, now wasn’t the time to focus on that.

Melvi had messed with his family. Even if he’d been his actual brother, Maiza had pledged to his syndicate that he’d take his knife to any enemies of the family. It had taken a lot of work, but at this point, he saw Melvi as an enemy, plain and simple.

Tapping a finger firmly on his desk, Molsa filled Maiza in on their game plan. “But we can’t sit here jawing about some guy we’ve never met and using our imaginations to fill in the blanks. That’s a surefire way to get sloppy. Firo’s the one who’s met him in person. When it comes to what we do at the casino, maybe we should trust his judgment the most.”

Wearing a smile that seemed somehow boyish on his seasoned, elderly face, Molsa turned to the handful of men who were in the room.

“Every once in a while, we should let Ronny know he doesn’t have to worry.

“We’ll show him his organization can take care of itself if he wants to take a long break now and then.”

Central Park

“Wow, this is even crazier than I thought it would be.”

Walking past fleeing people, his eyes shining, Christopher reached his destination in a corner of Central Park. “I wonder how much longer we’ve got until the cops show up? Or maybe somebody’s made sure they won’t be able to make it… Either way, I doubt the first few officers on the scene will be able to do anything about this.”

The only word for what Christopher was seeing was melee.

Ladd Russo and Graham Specter were fighting a no-holds-barred battle against the members of Larva, while a set of twins he didn’t recognize were riding motorcycles in circles around the brawl.

A gigantic bear stood just outside the fight, with Isaac and Miria on its back. A pale woman and Graham’s friend Shaft were standing beside a car that was parked nearby.

A bespectacled man in ragged clothes lay behind that car, but he was just getting to his feet.

Technically, the composition of the fight was simple—Graham and Ladd against the members of Larva—so melee might not have been an appropriate word. However, to Christopher, the reckless violence looked like the indiscriminate rampaging of small, humanoid disasters.

“Ha-haaah! You’re a hell of a good time! What are you people, street performers?!”

As the members of Larva attacked using a huge variety of methods, Ladd swung his arms around with delight. He caught Sickle’s kick with his right hand, knocked away Chi’s iron claws with his steel left arm, then kicked someone else flying.

“Dammit… A pal of the guy in the blue coveralls, huh? He’s pretty inhuman himself,” Sickle said, ignoring her own status as a homunculus.

As a matter of fact, it wasn’t just her. Even to Salomé the researcher, Ladd’s physical abilities seemed abnormal.

Maybe it was all the murders he’d committed, or maybe there had been some other cause. It seemed as though he’d overloaded some sort of mental limiter that usually kept him from destroying his body, and he was working his body to its limit. He had to be damaging his bones and shredding his muscle fibers as he fought, but maybe the very pain was a thrill to him.

Meanwhile, the other man was plenty abnormal as well.

“Let me tell you a sad, sad story. Me and the sister in green had a whole episode together a while back, but I’m pretty sure we ended up making peace sort of by accident there in that restaurant. Look at us now, though! Ladd got all excited for no reason, and now, we’re enemies again… If this is fate, I’m not going to restaurants ever again! Get me?!”

“What the hell are you on about?! You could have just stopped that psychopath! Besides, I haven’t forgotten how you dislocated my leg!” Sickle yelled angrily.

“I see…,” Graham replied, still twirling his wrench. “In that case, your anger is justified! Meaning it wasn’t the restaurant’s fault! This is terrific. Calcium’s good for making your bones stronger… I hear big-shot scientists experimented on rats in 1921 to prove it. What about dislocation, then?! Does calcium work on the stuff that links your bones together, too?! Crap, I won’t even be able to sleep at night now! Could you prevent dislocations by taking a good balance of nutrients in addition to calcium? In that case, restaurants are actually an ally of mankind. So when you’re done taking revenge on me, why don’t we all go to a restaurant?! Peace will come, flowers will bloom, butterflies will sing… Wait, do butterflies sing?!”

“Hell if I know!” Temples twitching, Sickle launched herself off the ground. “What is it with you and the Poet?! If you’re a man, talk with your body instead of your words for a change!”

“Talk with my body…? You mean like flag semaphore?”

“No! Are you mocking me?!” A sharp kick flew at the back of his head, where it would hit his medulla oblongata.

As Graham dodged it, another member of Larva took a shot at him with a chain weight.

Graham trapped it with his wrench, then leaped at yet another opponent, using the chain that was now tangled around his wrench as part of his own weapon.

The scene was utter chaos, but someone was watching it with calm eyes.

It wasn’t Christopher, who’d just arrived.

It was the cause of the ruckus, the one who’d been watching the situation unfold from the very beginning.

What’s going on?

I came because I thought someone was calling me, but none of my friends are here.

There’s a crowd of people. They’re all being noisy. Someone’s on my back.

They’re loud, but they look like they’re having fun. Warm memories.

I remember. I remember it. That’s right: This is a circus.

I wonder where the ringmaster is. Where’s Parrot?

Sparkly Dou isn’t here, either. I can smell something similar, though.

Where are Claire and Cazze? They were here yesterday. Where are they?

If I shout for them, will they come?

The enormous grizzly’s roar echoed through Central Park.

There was no hostility or malice in it, but almost everyone froze for a moment.

Thanks to their animal instincts, they were frightened by the roar of a creature stronger than they were.

While Ladd, Graham, and Christopher weren’t afraid of the sound, per se, every cell in their bodies urged them to be cautious.

Every eye was focused on that huge bear.

As a result, Salomé, Sickle, and the others still hadn’t noticed that Christopher was right next to them.

Meanwhile, Cookie looked around restlessly, as if he was searching for someone, but then his eyes stopped on a certain point. He’d spotted a black shadow coming his way…not either of the people Cookie was waiting for.

“Hmm…?”

Ladd had noticed the bear’s eyes come to rest on something, and as he followed its gaze—a silver flash bore down on him.

“Whoops!”

At the last second, he blocked with his prosthetic left arm, and a loud metallic clang rang out.

The face that had materialized in front of Ladd was one he recognized.

“…Hey there.”

“……”

“So you survived, huh?” Ladd grinned ferociously.

The black figure leaped back, putting distance between them.

At that point, everyone else saw Chané Laforet wearing a black dress and holding a knife in each hand.

“……”

Silently, she glared at Ladd.

The sharp light in her eyes was a blend of hostility, determination to kill, and nothing else.

“Oh, hey! If it ain’t Chané! I see… So karma’s finally pulling you and my brother Ladd together again, huh?! Let me tell you a sad, sad story! I don’t hate you one little bit, Chané, and I can’t sell Ladd out, either. Does that mean I can’t take sides here?! No! I’ll just have to take both your sides! Meaning I was born in order to keep anyone from getting in the way of the historic moment when your grudge is resolved once and for all. Am I overreacting? Nah, no way! After all, people go through thousands upon thousands of meanings over the course of their lives!”

“What’s this? You two know each oth—? Whoa!”

Ladd’s eyes had ticked over to Graham, and in that split-second time, Chané had tried to slash his throat. Ladd dodged by the skin of his teeth, took a step back, and shouted a taunt at her.

“Ha! Nice work, dollface! Haven’t seen that since the roof of that train. I can tell now, seeing you here—that bastard Huey Laforet’s close!”

“……”

Chané’s feelings didn’t waver, though. Darting in close to Ladd, she slashed at him sharply twice, then again.

Ladd knocked each blow away dexterously with his prosthetic hand, then unleashed a left hook that could easily have snapped a baseball bat.

Chané avoided it at the last second, putting plenty of distance between them.

“Miss Chané?! Why are you here?!” Salome shouted.

Chané heard him, but her attention stayed focused on Ladd.

She knew she couldn’t afford to give him the tiniest opening.

At the same time, her emotions quietly boiled down.

Her memories of the past had finally caught up to her emotions.

The Flying Pussyfoot…

As she remembered Ladd on the roof of that train, the blood that coursed through her veins picked up speed—filling every muscle in her body with the resolution to fight.

And then the real melee began.

There was no need for words.

After all, everyone here was a savage beast who’d lost all concept of order.

As if she were telling them so, Chané launched herself into a sprint.