BATTER 7

“How about it, Liz? Do I look like a survivor who just barely made it out?”

Liz, her arms crossed, stared at him intently.

“Don’t smile. Pull your bangs down more.”

“Yessir.”

He gave his neatly groomed bangs a few quick ruffs until they fell into a suitably disheveled mess. The moment he turned toward the passenger seat, a fine mist of water droplets dampened his face. Liz, holding a spray bottle, pressed the nozzle twice more before responding.

“You look too clean. You should at least pretend to have some skin grease going on.”

“Right. Well, that felt refreshing, thanks.”

“Honestly, even now, you’re still too handsome.”

“That’s just natural talent; nothing I can do about it. Anyway, Paul is heading out.”

As Baron started to close the door to leave, he heard the sound of the other door opening and shutting right behind him. Liz had followed him out. Seeing her checking her firearm, Baron backstepped toward the car.

“You’re coming too?”

“I’m keeping the possibility of a bloodshed in mind. If there’s going to be a shootout, better to do it together.”

Liz tucked the pistol into her coat as she continued.

“Even during training, my marksmanship scores were better than yours.”

She wasn’t even boasting. She was simply stating a cold, hard fact. Seriously, how many years ago was that? Baron grumbled to himself as he fished a ball cap out from the back seat. It was a plain black hat with no logo. He tightened the strap to shrink it and pulled it down over Liz’s head as he spoke. Their eyes met for a moment. The sharp glint, line, and color of a dagger that never made it to the display shelf. I’m telling you, her ex-husband was one unlucky bastard. No eye for quality at all.

“I’d appreciate it if you also remembered it was only a one-point difference.”

He then playfully tugged the brim down low. It covered everything down to the bottom of Liz’s eyes. At most, only her jawline was visible. Baron tilted his head this way and that, then spent a good while rummaging under the passenger seat until he found a smudge-stained lipstick.

“Ah. I thought I’d seen this somewhere before.”

He popped the cap to reveal a lipstick so vividly red it practically left an afterimage. After asking for her permission, Baron applied the lipstick to Liz’s colorless lips. Now, do the ‘m-pa’ thing. Following his instructions, Liz pursed her lips and asked:

“Why do you even have lipstick?”

“I’m not really one for throwing things away.”

“You seem like you’d throw anything away.”

“Tut-tut.”

Baron wagged an index finger dismissively and turned to walk away. Liz quickened her pace, following closely behind his back. As they entered the market entrance, he glanced back; all he could see was the deeply pulled-down hat and shadows. The only recognizable feature was that stark red lip color. Even if someone tried to recall Liz’s description later, they’d likely only remember the color of her lips. Baron squared his shoulders like “Paul,” adopted a trained soldier’s gait, and headed deep into the market alleys.

From humanoid types to non-humanoids, androids were easy to spot even in the Lower City. While an android that perfectly replicates a human appearance is a luxury item, other models are relatively easy to acquire. It is especially common to see discarded or defective units that have been modified, making the Lower City a place where one can encounter a diverse array of androids.

Right now, for instance, a budget humanoid stripped of its outer skin was touting for business on a filthy street corner. Its jaw components, capable of vocalizing without needing to move much else, clattered as it played a series of jokes. It was the voice of a young, charming man. As they tried to pass by, its metal fingers snagged Baron’s forearm. Its eyes, made of LEDs, glowed in the shape of a smiling emoticon.

“Hey sister, you like blueberries? Our drink is real blueberry flavor. The first taste is free.”

“I’m a brother.”

Baron gave a casual correction to the title and quickly moved past. What he was looking for was neither blueberry-scented alcohol nor a humanoid.

Everyone has a habit. A signature style, so to speak. Just as every perfume house has a distinct aesthetic and every human singer has a unique vocalization, drug manufacturing—despite the varying types and ingredients—carries the maker’s signature. And that mint scent…

“Minari, come out.”

It was Minari’s signature. He rapped on a stained window beneath a characterless green sign. He sensed movement from within, and the blinds covering most of the window slid up. Before long, a woman with hair cropped close like a monk’s peeked her face out from behind the glass. Her eyes, narrowed with epicanthic folds, swept over the caller.

“Ah, my cute little lion cub. I thought you all got hauled away!”

Minari the Pharmacist. She sells psychotropic drugs, either smuggled through brokers or manufactured herself. And she talks. A lot. Even without him responding, Minari continued her endless chatter.

“Looking at the state of your face, I guess you barely made it out too? Are there any others who managed to bolt?”

Minari raised the remaining blinds all the way. Only then did she spot Liz, standing a few paces behind Baron, and she sneered.

“That’s a face I haven’t seen before. Don’t tell me you’ve already made a new girlfriend just because your Boss got pinched? I thought you were the loyal type. If you were going to be like this, why did you dump me?”

“Tell me about it, Minari.”

A silicone-coated finger curled over Minari’s shoulder. A face appeared above her—a beauty that was structurally perfect but naturally a bit uncanny.

“It would have been nice if the three of us played together.”

“Right. Do you know how disappointed Max was?”

Minari pulled at the robotic arm hugging her shoulder as she looked at Baron. Max mimicked her gaze. Max, an illegally assembled unit made from salvaged scrap, was Minari’s partner in many ways, though most of his components seemed to operate independently of each other.

“You talk too much.”

Baron let the meaningless banter slide and quickly scanned the workshop inside the window. Glass jars with small labels, display cases mixing non-sale items with merchandise. A wall cluttered with contact info and photos. On that wall, skinless robot parts hung in a surreal fashion.

Beyond the metallic organs and limbs, various mismatched ornaments sparkled. A white elephant statue, a crooked green ‘8’, a tower of tin cans. Minari’s shop had always been cluttered, making it difficult to find anything that specifically stood out. Baron naturally averted his gaze from them and asked:

“You have a newly formulated drug, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about? Everything I make is always new.”

“Do I look like I’m in the mood for jokes?”

“Jokes? He said jokes. Hahaha…”

Her sense of humor is as primitive as ever. Liz, who had been silent the whole time, stared at Minari from beneath the brim of her hat. Baron glanced behind him and leaned in close to the window.

“Look at me, Minari.”

“Sure, sure.”

“I need to wipe this woman’s memory.”

As he whispered, Minari met Baron’s eyes with a meaningful look.

“Why?”

Minari is a pharmacist for criminals. She doesn’t ask questions about intended use.

“Since when did you start asking for reasons?”

“You want an accurate prescription? Then you have to give me the symptoms.”

She smirked incessantly. Since when were you ever a ‘proper’ pharmacist? Baron almost burst out laughing.

“The only thing you’re curious about is how much I can give you.”

For some reason, Minari went silent for a fairly long time. Her pupils flickered slightly. It seemed she was trying to see Liz, who was hidden by Baron’s back. Detective Liz had never been stationed in the Lower City, and there was no way Minari would know her identity. However, the longer the silence lasted, the more tension pooled densely under his tongue. Finally, Minari tossed out a short question.

“What’s her deal?”

“An accountant for the defense contractor the Boss was dealing with. If we leave her be, she’ll be a witness for the prosecution, but if we use our usual methods, it’ll cause problems. Her fiancé is from Mars.”

The fake information flowed out smoothly without him having to think hard. A character type Minari would dislike. The kind of person she wouldn’t feel guilty about feeding an unstable new drug. Sure enough, a smirk escaped Minari’s lips.

“Aha. That kind of lady, is she?”