Those who really knew the Runoratas’ strength understood the opposite as well: Any fighters who took a shot at them while knowing all this would have to be truly crazy themselves.
Even as their throats were ripped out, those guys would be on the alert for a chance to snap their enemies’ necks.
Morning that same dayLittle Italy
In the basement of Coraggioso, the jazz hall that served as the Gandor Family’s headquarters, Ladd Russo was in the middle of talking.
“And? Last night was boring as hell. When does the ‘flash-bang-pow’ stuff start?”
He wasn’t being sarcastic; his expression was genuinely regretful of the lack of trouble.
Ladd had been hired as the Gandors’ temporary bodyguard. He’d expected Thompsons to start squirting metal on the first day and was terribly unhappy that nothing exciting had happened.
Luck, the youngest of the three Gandor brothers, had grasped the man’s character in the few days they’d known each other, and he responded in a matter-of-fact way. “I expect all the syndicates are still sizing one another up. They’re gauging who their enemies are and who might be an ally. Plus, the Runoratas may be hosting the event, but there are feuds between organizations that have nothing to do with them.”
“Well, yeah, I bet there are. Maybe they’ve got treaties, but that don’t mean they’re gonna get along.”
“Still, they’d prefer not to start a conflict and make trouble for themselves… Specifically, they don’t want an enormous syndicate like the Runorata Family to realize there are rights and interests they want badly enough to start trouble over. No doubt that’s why they stuck to watching and waiting, at least on the first day.”
“There’s an easy way to tell your friends from your enemies, y’know. Slug somebody with ties to the Runoratas. The fellas who cover your back are your friends, and the ones who try to shoot ya are your enemies.”
The man seemed to be joking, but if Luck told him to do a crazy thing like that, he definitely would. He probably wouldn’t even hesitate.
And if he did, Ladd could still very well be the last guy on his feet, smiling in the middle of a sea of corpses. In any case, Luck had no intention of giving that order. Frankly, in his position, he’d have to order him not to do it under any circumstances.
Granted, he was already prepared to turn his family’s guns on the Runoratas if need be.
“Several organizations proposed alliances to us. Their reasons varied—some hoped to use us as sacrificial pawns to put a check on the Runoratas, while others flattered us, saying we should demolish the Martillos and run their territory ourselves.”
“How about that! So who did you decide to team up with, amigo?” Maria Barcelito asked excitedly. She was a bodyguard who dual-wielded Japanese katana, and like Ladd, she was spoiling for a fight.
However, Luck shook his head, putting a damper on her enthusiasm. His eyes were cold. “I turned them all down. If we joined forces with them or gave them a hand, anything we gained as a result would become a liability. If this were business, I might consider it, but I won’t accept any offers like that during a power struggle this uncertain.”
“Ha! For a guy who hired me, you’re pretty cautious.” Ladd shrugged. Apparently, he thought rather highly of Luck, though, and he backed down without arguing. “That Melvi gink and the ginger bastard never showed, though.”
“Even if you see them during the party, don’t throw the first punch, all right?” Luck put extra stress on those last words. Essentially, if the other party made the first move, there was no problem with striking back.
“Huh… Well, that’s a relief. Glad you didn’t tell me to suck it up and take whatever they dished out.”
“If I were going to be that careful, I wouldn’t have hired any of you to begin with. And we’ve fought the Runoratas before. I don’t know exactly how much clout Melvi has, but his position within the organization can’t be higher than Gustavo’s.”
“Hmm? Gustavo?”
Ladd’s eyebrows drew together, and Luck explained. “Ah, my apologies. Gustavo was a Runorata executive who once fought with us. I believe he’s still in prison.”
“Gustavo… Gustavo, huh?”
The name seemed to ring a bell for Ladd. He thought about it for a little while, but he couldn’t remember where he’d heard it. Well, even if I did meet him, I guess he wasn’t anything to write home about, he thought and decided not to worry about it.
As a matter of fact, Gustavo had declared himself the boss of the prisoners when Ladd was first incarcerated, and Ladd had absently punched him across the room. Since that was the extent of their relationship, it was one he could afford to forget.
“Well, I dunno about Gusty or whoever he was, but it’s good to know you’ve got the balls to pick fights with the Runoratas.”
Grinning, Ladd rubbed his prosthetic hand lightly.
I’m never gonna die, that redheaded monster had said. To him, of all people. Right to his face.
As Ladd fantasized about slamming his metal hand into him, he wore the sort of hope-filled smile that young guys wore when they daydreamed about hitting the jackpot at poker.
✦ ✦ ✦
Ladd wasn’t the only one who was feeling this way, though.
Maria and many of the other killers the Gandors had hired had a bone to pick with a certain redheaded hitman who called himself Claire Stanfield, or Felix Walken, or Vino. They had gone to the casino ready to wager their own lives, harboring twisted ambitions of being superior to the legendary hired killer.
Luck—who was Claire’s childhood friend and thought of him as a brother—understood this.
I can’t see Claire losing to them—but never say never. No matter how bad the odds are, a bet is a bet. In that case, who’s the banker in this ridiculous fight?
As a rule, bets among multiple people were made possible by a banker, who always profited. That was what let him keep his position.
No gambling den could ever—or should ever—be created by a banker who ran everything for free. His profits became a guarantee that ensured bets were truly fair.
That was how Luck saw it anyway.
Granted, Claire himself had once expressed a differing opinion. “Really? I bet there are a few guys who’d do it for nothing. Maybe if they feel their mission in life is to weigh others’ fates on the scales, or if they just like watching people gamble right up close. I guess you could say that emotional fulfillment is what they’re getting out of it.”
If the profit weren’t clearly visible, I don’t think it would ultimately be worth trusting, Luck thought. Well, I suppose Claire does have a point.
In any case, Claire and the hitmen were betting their lives on this, and a banker-like figure who would ultimately profit might materialize.
His job was to circle around behind that banker, kick their throne over, and steal it.
✦ ✦ ✦
On that thought, Luck began consciously breathing more slowly.
It was a quiet morning.
At the very least, he didn’t sense any trouble in his immediate vicinity.
But with all these elements in place, there was no way nothing was happening.
Glancing over his shoulder at his brothers, Luck made himself focus.
No matter what happened, in the end, the three of them would have to get through it using their own strength and the strength of their family.
That meant they had to be on the alert for possibilities that hadn’t even appeared yet. He scanned the group of hitmen, who were basically a mass of trouble, and visualized all the unpleasantness they could get pulled into. Even that wouldn’t be nearly enough. He took a deep breath.
Somewhere in the city, something that would beggar his imagination was bound to be happening.
✦ ✦ ✦
And indeed, Luck had never considered the situation that was currently unfolding.
It was directly connected not to him, though, but to his childhood friend Firo.
✦ ✦ ✦
“H-hey, what are you doing? …Isaac? Miria?”
✦ ✦ ✦
The peculiar encounter that had occurred at the clinic was one that couldn’t have happened under ordinary circumstances.
When the grizzly bear appeared out of nowhere, even Firo could hardly breathe, but he didn’t panic or scream.
Well, worst-case scenario, Isaac, Miria, and I are all immortal, so a bear attack won’t kill us. I need to hide this guy somewhere, though.
Firo pulled Who’s limp frame over his shoulder and tried to get out of there, but Isaac and Miria were lying on the floor in front of him, hands clasped over their chests.
At the sight of the couple, the bear dropped back down to all fours, cocked its head, and started to sniff loudly.
“What do you mean, ‘what,’ Firo? We’re dead! We’re playing dead!”
“Yes, Mr. Yaguruma told us if we ran into a bear, we should either play dead or sneak into its den and jam a hand down its throat and suffocate it!”
Isaac and Miria were quite loud despite pretending to be corpses.