BATTER 2

The elevated highways cutting through the midsections of skyscrapers remain dazzling even in the middle of the night. On every facet of the pale buildings, giant holographic models tempted citizens with ever-changing poses and slogans.

<Exactly like real clean-meat! Enjoy it simply at home. Cindy Beef Steak.>

As the car picks up speed, the holographic housewife and the artificial steak vanish into the distance. The man leaned back and sneered.

“It feels like everything is leaving me. A three-year reign, I suppose.”

The bitterness of orris root was etched into the curve of his smiling lips. The man, who had been leaning against the window, slowly turned his gaze to the other side. From the front, to the left… toward his subordinate sitting beside him.

“Hey, Paul.”

The subordinate, who had been staring straight ahead with fists resting on his knees, turned his head. His face was submerged in a darkness like a black funeral veil. Beneath his eyes, his skin glowed pale like one side of the moon. The car, which had mastered autonomous driving and flight long ago, made neither a tremor nor a sound; everything was as smooth and silent as a carpet. The man enjoyed this silence, which felt misplaced for a night spent being hunted.

The man was born and raised amidst noise and chaos. His parents had vanished forever into that very turmoil. Perhaps, fitting for their child, he too would vanish forever amidst flashing glares and deafening roars—as if retracing his umbilical cord back to the place he was born.

In this godforsaken world, everything changed too fast. The mountains, the sea, the kings. Now, it might be time for the king to change. The man asked his subordinate:

“Are you going to leave, too?”

The subordinate merely watched him, offering no answer. The man felt a weight hanging deep inside his chest, at the very edge of his ribs. A cruel, fateful weight, the kind that might hang from the chairs where witches sat during the Dark Ages. The man continued.

“If you’re going to leave, now seems like the time. I’ll give you a rare opportunity.”

But the subordinate still just looked at him. Those brown eyes with eyelids that barely moved. Yes, those eyes. The man liked those eyes. It was because they resembled the eyes of a certain man buried under heavy fire. In truth, he could barely even remember them now…

So, as time passed, he would eventually forget even the impression this subordinate’s eyes made on him. Everything, whether material or immaterial, is destined to decay or be destroyed. So, if you’re going to disappear, then disappear. If you’re going to leave, then leave.

“If you’re going to get lost, then get the hell out. But if you don’t leave now…”

However, he could only do so when permitted.

“You and I are together for life.”

The man reached out. He took his subordinate’s hand. It was a bulky, solid hand. While clutching it as if he might break it completely, his voice whispered as faintly as a prayer.

“With me, for life…”

“Boss.”

Perhaps because he had applied too much force, a tremor ran through the hand he held. The subordinate interlaced his fingers with the hand whose tendons were pulled taut, gripped it back, and slowly pressed it against the car wall. The subordinate leaned in so close their sharp noses brushed. A warm, deep breath touched the man’s upper lip.

The taciturn subordinate knew well how to answer without using language. Moistless lips cautiously pressed against the man’s lips and licked them. Both felt a slight fishy taste and saltiness. The man’s chest and shoulders swelled firmly, as they did when he fought. The kiss was not very long. At the end of a kiss so short it provoked impatience, the subordinate whispered:

“We can finish this conversation…”

The subordinate’s grip on the man’s wrist tightened. And then.

“…at the station.”

Click. Handcuffs were snapped onto the man’s hand. While he sat frozen, the subordinate fixed the other end of the handcuffs to the assist grab above the car window and fired a succession of bullets into the main screen of the self-driving car. The autonomous AI recited a warning notice in a kind but firm voice, and the man realized the betrayal.

The man swiftly reached for the pistol in his chest pocket. But the man had cherished and loved his subordinate for being competent. The subordinate remained competent until the very end.

While firing bullets with his left hand until the car stopped, the subordinate used his remaining hand to break the man’s wrist. A short scream. The pistol fell to the floor, and the car descended slowly toward the ground.

—Emergency situation. Initiating emergency stop. All doors are opening. Initiating emergency stop. All doors are opening.

The car that had been flying over the aerial road slowly touched the ground. A few seconds later, the doors on all sides opened with a clunk. When everything was settled, the subordinate stepped onto the ashen ground and stretched his large body out. He even took the time to enjoy a leisurely stretch before contacting someone with an easygoing attitude that felt almost criminal.

“This is 88. I’ve caught the Lion. Just sent the coordinates, requesting immediate backup. And bring a cheeseburger on your way.”

Then, the subordinate suddenly turned back to look at the man.

“You want a late-night snack?”

The man did not reply. The subordinate simply shrugged his shoulders, crossed his legs, and perched on the edge of the seat next to him. The subordinate—or rather, “88,” who had likely been his subordinate for only a very short time—scratched and tousled his gel-styled hair like a dog and let out a long, comfortable sigh. The man had never once seen his subordinate make such an expression.

With his clumped bangs hanging down, the subordinate rummaged through the inside of his jacket and pulled out a cigarette. His cheeks hollowed as he held a lighter to it, and the cigarette caught fire. Instead of smoking it himself, he personally placed the cigarette between the lips of the man who had been his boss for the past few months. Thin smoke rose like a dream. But there was no escaping into a dream; the acrid taste and smell were vividly felt.

Nicotine, damaged muscle and bone. Decayed and destroyed…

Beyond the heavy sense of reality, the subordinate—Paul, 88—smirked mischievously.

“Since it’s boring while we wait, you might as well finish that cigarette.”

Paul doesn’t smile like that. From the tips of his limbs to the very center of his heart, the man froze instantly. Whether due to the fracture in his wrist or the completely unexpected reality, the Boss stammered despite himself.

“Wh-who are you?”

“A detective who almost went crazy after a year of undercover work.”

“That’s impossible. Paul is definitely…”

“Paul Xavier, the arms dealer who went missing five years ago? He was caught by our team around this time last year. I heard he used to deal with your organization occasionally… Thanks to you killing off the former boss and all your friends, the acting was easy. I’m definitely grateful for that.”

88 flicked his index finger like a gun and winked. From afar, the sound of police sirens echoed. They grew closer. Red and blue lights appeared. 88 stepped out of the car door and waved his arms.

“Hey, you lot, hurry up! The burger’s gonna get cold!”

Colorful lights washed over the pale face of the young Boss. Instead of struggling to undo the handcuffs, he belatedly asked 88, who was standing outside the car:

“Even for a single moment… just for a split second…”

The answer to this question might determine the Boss’s life from here on. The man swallowed the saliva pooling in his mouth heavily and looked at him.

“Did you ever love me?”

If he did love, then who? The former arms dealer Paul Xavier? As revealed just now, the real subject cannot be Paul. The recipient of this question is Code Name 88 of the Lion Hunt Operation. Detective Baron Lin of the United Americas New-New York Police Department. Height approximately 6’2″, weight 264 lbs. Blood type RH+B. Hobby: making playlists of classic rock music. Specialty: all kinds of lies, including acting and vocal mimicry.

And Baron loves the words “I love you.” He grinned once more.

“I do. So, so much.”

Because those are such cost-effective words.

The organization “Neon Leon,” which had made the shitty city waters even shittier with illegal entertainment and drug distribution, was arrested en masse. While Baron sat in the passenger seat of a police car eating a soggy cheeseburger, the criminals being led away in a line like dried herring each had something to say to him.

“You son of a bitch! I remembered your face. I’ll make you beg me to kill you!”