3: The Case Arrives
I tried pinching my nose as I looked at my reflection in the mirror. If it were a little less wide, a little bit higher, maybe the past would have been something different. Well, maybe not. I don't think there's been one single time when the shape of my nose was the problem. The problem is the colour of my hair. At one point I dyed it black, but I stopped using it when a rash broke out on my head because the the dye was poor quality. For now I'm putting up with the colour I was born with, a brownish blond. It's not a colour I'm very fond of. It brings to mind a spoilt brat who's had an easy ride in life. That's how it feels to me. It's a pain to have to explain all the time that I wasn't brought up like that. So I think I should have had it dyed from the start to the colour of some tough guy. Black, that's the colour. Black as the night. Guess I'll dye it again. Must not forget to get a quality dye this time.
I was now 19. It had been two years since I left Midgar. I think I've got a meaner look in my eyes compared to when I lived there. Good, that's prefect. Get shot of anything that makes me seem like a kid. I psyched myself up and washed my face in the wash-basin. Then as I dried my face with the towel draped on my shoulders, I looked around the bleak, tiny room. The bare steal plates on the walls were a stark sight. More than a year after this house was built, the interior decorating had been neglected. There wasn't any practical issues about it, but no matter how much time passed by it still seemed like temporary accommodation. If I were planning to stay here, then today's the day I ought to get started. If I let a milestone such as a birthday pass me by, I might end up putting it off for at least another year. I had gotten the wallpaper and paint I needed ready by yesterday. Well, let's get to it.
Firm as my resolve was, once the steel plates and plywood was hidden by the wallpaper I didn't care any more about what happened with the rest of it. But I couldn't let myself quit. The can for the paint I had gotten for the ceiling was warped and wasn't properly sealed. I had to use it quick or it wouldn't be any good. If I wasted this, getting another would be tricky. The paint was the phosphorescent type that had started showing up on the market lately, which I'd gotten from a tight-fisted trader. At first he was asking for 1500 gil, but after I haggled him given the poor state the can was in, the seedy bastard sold it to me for 100 gil in the end. It was probably stolen goods. Can't be worry about that, as long as the paint is the real deal. These days, that's how it is when you're doing business with others. Don't think about where the merchandise might have come from. At night phosphorescent paint emits the light it absorbed during the daytime. Considering the energy situation nowadays—there might as well not be any—you'd be a fool to get lazy and waste the paint now. I might be lazy, but I don't want to be a fool.
I took my shirt off, and just as I was about to start, there was a thud at the door. I froze still and looked at the door. There was another thud from the bottom of the door. The whole of this flimsy house shook.
“Fabio Brown. We know you're in.”
My body shrunk at the sound of that low voice, calm but with a menacing ring. I stuff the rag I was using as a paint brush into the paint can, held my breath, and put on the shirt I had just taken off. My hands were trembling. I let out a burp.
“We're gonna bust down the door!”
This was a different man from before. His voice sounded like he was smiling. I didn't reply and looked at my boots. I had them specially made last year, using a monster hide I found in the market. Maybe the day's finally arrived where I will put these pointed, steel-toed boots to use. However, with the care I had taken of them there was barely a mark on them. I'd rather avoid getting any more on them if I could help it. So that leaves me with fleeing. But from where? Don't even need to think about it. If I can't use the door, the window is the only option. The window is next to the wash-basin. It was made to fit the size of the glass, so it was rather small. But not so small that I can't get through it. I quietly moved to the window. Then I thought to take out a dinner knife out of the drawer by the kitchen sink. It had a sharpen blade about 5 centimetres long that could be used for preparing food as well. If it came down to that, I'd stab them.
“We'll give ya 30 seconds.”
Looks like the countdown has begun. The window didn't open so I would have to break it to get outside. You realise how valuable glass is? Nothing I can do about that. But what are you going to use? As I wondered what I could use to break the glass, the door came crashing down with a sad sound. This isn't right. It's not even been 10 seconds yet. Stepping on the door that had now fallen inwards, a man with a lean figure and blazing red hair entered the room and grinned. He was wearing a suit with a distinctive design. He was one half of a pair of men I'd seen around a lot in the central square. Which means the low voice I heard first was probably the big guy with the sunglasses and a skinhead. They were always together. Like a knife and fork.
“Drop the fork, kid. You're gonna hurt yourself.”
The redhead came closer without showing any sign of caution. Don't mess with me. I stuck the fork—fork?—out and thrust it at the redhead.
“Oww.”
I let out a pathetic whine. My wrist had been hit by the side of the redhead's hand, and the fork fell to the floor. While I was thinking how thing might have turned out if I had calmly picked up a knife, the redhead's knee sunk into my stomach. Out of reflex I slumped forward holding my stomach. I was grabbed by the collar of my shirt from behind and pulled back. Then he got me in a nelson hold. With my arms raised up I was forcibly turned to face towards the door. My feet were nearly off the ground. I was just barely standing on the tips of my toes. The redhead picked the door up from the floor and was resting it in the doorway. Which means that the brute behind me must be the skinhead.
“Come on now, Fabio”
The redhead moved his face closer as he prodded my chest with his finger.
“Whoaa!?”
With that he went quiet, and looked at me with his mouth still open. I wasn't given chance to wonder what the hell was up with him when the brute behind me started pushing on my neck. I couldn't breathe. It was agonising. It hurt.
“Give back what you stole.”
What are they on about? I've got no idea. But it's hard to prove that you don't know something. Look for the best solution. Make your choice. What's the answer that'll get me out of this mess?
“Say something.”
The skinhead eased his grip for a second, before moving this hands he had locked behind my neck up to the back of my head and pushed further.
“It hurts—“
“Give it back and it'll stop.”
Behind me muscles moved, and my feet left the ground. I could feel blood gathering at my eyes. And finally it started flowing out.
“Don't cry now, man. That's lame.”
Crying? Was I crying?
“Hmph, stupid kid.”
All of a sudden the grip behind me loosened. I collapsed to the ground, and without meaning to found myself looking like I was begging to the redhead to spare my life. It was humiliating but there wasn't much else I could do. I was going to have to have to ride this storm out by grovelling on the floor.
Just like two years ago, when the mako swept over the planet.
“Well, they are just things. I can guess why you'd do it. If you promise not to do it ever again, we'll let you off with a bit of punishment.”
My body reacted on its own accord to the word 'punishment'. A burp and trembling. I'll admit it. I might idolise tough guys more than most would, but the reality is quite the opposite.
“Sorry 'bout scaring you.”
The way the redhead said it sounded like he was taking pity on me.
“That's exactly what we came here to do,” the skinhead retorted. Oh please, let them fall out now and kill each other. If that's asking too much, let them keep on talking. Give me time. Time to find the best solution.
“Hey, Fabio. Lift up your face.”
I had to do what they said. I looked at their faces. These two men I normally saw from a distance were right in front of my eyes. The redhead looked like a delinquent kid who'd grown up without actually growing up. The kind of guys I had felt both admiration and hatred for, like the ones who had been in that warehouse in sector 8. The perfect example of one of them was looking down at me as he smiled at the corners of his mouth. The skinhead was even larger than the redhead. Not just in height, but just the mass of him was something else. Even in this dim room he didn't take off his dark sunglasses. I'm sure they've lived in a completely different world from me.
“We were throwing around some pretty stern looks before we got here, can't exactly leave now without doing anything. Gotta do the job properly and show people what'll happen if you mess with us.”
“Ar-are you going to kill me?”
This are the words my continued search for an answer turned up. And with my voice cracking at that.
“That would be the easiest thing to do. But see, what we're after is a Shinra that's beloved, even if it's a little feared at the same time. We don't want to be hated. Killing you, that's gonna get some hate coming our way.”
“Do you know who we are?” the skinhead asked. I gave three hurried nods. The Shinra Company's Turks. The 'if you don't behave the Turks are going to come for you' Turks. The next generation and heir to the reigns of Shinra, commonly known as President Dumbass—the same kind of goofy naming that leads to calling grey cats Grey, but that's the name the world uses. The world went to hell not long after he took the position of president. Considering all that I guess there's not much you can do—had been blown away along with the building, and I don't know what happened to the Shinra Company after that. But the two men were still calling themselves the Turks from the Shinra Company. They were using the effect that name had on regular people. The Turks were Shinra's dark side. Whenever a problem required violence to solve it came up, they'd be there.
“Now, who are we?”
“The Turks—sir.”
“Skip the 'sir' bit, kid.”
“—Sorry.”
“Stand up.”
I staggered to my feet as ordered. My legs were still shaking. Just as I thought the redhead had moved quickly, I felt an impact on my face, and flew into the corner of the room. My back hit the three-legged stool, one of the few pieces of furniture I had, and I feel on the floor with it. My right eye hurt. They had punched me in the eye. When I touched it, it was wet. Blood? I hurriedly looked at my hand and saw that it was the phosphorescent paint.
“Think this is enough?”
“He's getting off a bit lightly—but it'll do.”
I rolled around on the floor and listened to their conversation with my back facing them. Soon I sensed that they were going outside. All the strength left my entire body. A strange voice rose up from the pit of my stomach, like bile being thrown up. Was I laughing or crying. I didn't even know. I pulled my knees to my chest and curled into a foetal position, and waited like that until my body and mind had settled down. Three minutes. Maybe five. And then—
“What do you bloody want!”
I got myself up as I shouted the words I wish I had said in the first place.
“Can I ask something?”
The voice startled me, and when I looked at where my door had once been the redhead was looking at me.
“Where's your dad?”
I was surprised that the redhead was still there, and I didn't understand the meaning behind his question. Nor could I comprehend how he was acting like nothing had happened.
“I'm asking you what's going on with your dad.”
“He died. It was before I was born.”
I just wanted him to leave as soon as possible. Might as well just answer honestly.
“You have a photo or somethin'?”
“No.”
“What was he like? Your mom must have told you about him.”
“No.”
“So you don't know what he looked like. You never met him, obviously.”
I nodded. I intended to answer honestly for as long as necessary.
“Then what about your mom?”
“She died,” I said after a brief hesitation.
“During Meteor?”
“Yeah.”
The redhead slowly nodded at my answer.
“Well, you take care of yourself. Don't be doing anything stupid again, Fabio.”
With that fundamental misunderstanding left unresolved, the redhead left. I rolled onto my bed and went over my memory of the events. That's what I should have done. If only I had said this. All these choices I hadn't even thought of went through my mind. It was depressing. The throbbing around my right eye told me all about the desperate state I had been in. My stomach and my neck hurt. I got off the bed and looked in the mirror. A man who had just been punched was looking back at me. Hey, that was a bad time for you. But it's over now. Getting hit by the Turks, that's something to boast about. Well, get yourself out there. I nodded, and washed off the paint on my face. Then I put the broken door back right. The nails that held the hinges down had just fallen out and the whole door had come loose. Even cheaply-made things have their advantages. I finished the repairs without much effort. I didn't like leaving the paint spilt on the floor or the assorted living-ware strewn around but it was going to wait until later. I took my jacket off the hook on the wall. A pale brown leather jacket. The metal studs on the collar gave off a dull glint. The thing I liked best was the illustration of a monster on the back of it. A Bomb just about to detonate. It was a one-of-a-kind and cost a fair bit, but I couldn't resist. I put it on and went to the bed, pulled out the rugged shoulder bag that was hidden under it and put it on my shoulder. The leather has softened lately and it's gotten easier to use. Finally I put on my hat. I'd gotten it from a girl recently. Ready for battle.
My house faced out onto a circular courtyard garden about 15 metres in diameter. There were six similar houses around the circumference of the courtyard. In the garden materials someone thought might come in handy, in other words junk was piled up. The most notable item was a car from about 10 years ago. It was a roomy former luxury car that seated five people. The exterior was in tatters now, and of course it didn't run. The owner says it would run if it just had a battery, but you're not going to get your hands on something as valuable as that. The owner was a muscular man named Doyle, who was also the started building the houses here. We call him the 'Mayor' out of respect. He was probably in his early thirties. Normally he was a cheerful man who moved his thick eyebrows about wildly as he spoke. But behind all that he was a really lonely guy. Just about two years ago he called some friends over to the house he'd built himself and they started living together. No, he built the house so that he could call people over. Soon his friends called their friends, and the numbers grew, and it got suffocating in the house. They all got together and agree to build their own houses. We shared the labour out between themselves, and built their houses next to the Mayor's so it enclosed the storage area for the cars and building materials. In the end this circular courtyard was formed. When I first visited my friend who lived here, there were five houses. I was introduced to the Mayor, who then asked me if I wanted to build a house and live there since there was some land spare and it just didn't look right, and so I took him up on the offer. I became a resident of this 'Doyle Village' to fill in a gap.
The red door of the Mayor's house slowly opened, and a man cautiously poked his face out. Ratface. He had a short and shabby frame. His rigid-looking hair was grown out on all sides, and just his head looked a lot bigger than the rest of him. He was maybe the same age as me. I'd started seeing him around about a week ago. He was always wearing a dark grey work outfit.
“Hey, you're alright! That's a relief.”
Looked like he knew what had gone down. I put my hand on the swollen, painful right half of my face, and sent him the message that it was a bit too early to give it the all-clear just yet.
“Wow, they really did a number on you, did they. The Turks turned up at the door, so I ended up giving them your address without thinking. You seem like you're used to it so I figured you'd be fine—Sorry 'bout that.”
“Well, that's not a bad reputation to have.”
For the most part, that's how I really felt inside. I liked the reason he told them my address. The fruits of my daily image-building.
“If you're gonna go get them back, I can make you a bomb?”
“Bomb?”
“You know, the bombs they use for blowing up all the crumbling buildings and stuff. I make 'em.”
I told him I'd think about it, but I had no desire to involve myself with the Turks any further. The man gave me a solemn nod and closed the door. I locked my own white door, and knocked on the green door of the neighbouring house. Then I called to my friend.
“Fabio? It's Evan, open up.”
My name is Evan Townshend. This is the name I've had since the day I was born.
After a short wait, the door opened slightly. Lowering my gaze, there was a face looking up at me from just at my hips.
“Hi, Evan.”
“Hey.”
Vits Brown. Fabio's little brother. He looked like a little copy of his older brother. The brothers lived here, surrounded by green stuff. Their parents had passed away two years ago. Apparently they were crushed along with their house when sector 7 fell. The brothers were saved thanks to being in the sector 3 slum. There was a house there which had a garden with all these flowers everywhere, and they had both been admiring them. Of course, it wasn't the flowers they were looking at but the green leaves.
“Where's Fabio?”
“He's gone out. It's work now, isn't it?”
“Oh, yeah, it is.”
“What's wrong with your eye?”
“Oh, this? I tripped. I was on a chair painting the ceiling and lost my balance.”
“Ooh, there was a real big noise. It woke me up.”
“Sorry for that.”
“That's fine. What's the point sleeping, when it doesn't hurt with this medicine? I wanted to go somewhere, but Fabio told me I had to stay in while he's gone. I fell asleep reading a book.”
“Medicine?”
Obviously, some medicine for Geostigma. Vits' symptoms were a bruise call a 'Geostigma' that covered from his hairline to above his eyebrows. He had one on his back too, apparently. And black pus which seeped from the bruises. The severity depended on the day, but they say it's pretty painful.
“Have they made a medicine for Geostigma? I haven't heard anything.”
“——“
Vits averted his gaze like he'd done something wrong.
“Fabio told you not to talk about it? Even to me?”
“Well, I guess you're okay. Well, it's this latest medicine they just made. It doesn't cure it, but it makes it stop hurting. It's a painkiller? Fabio got it especially from a doctor.”
His face was full of pride. I get it now. If there was a good reason for me to have to suffer the violence and humiliation, then I'm find with that.
Edge. That's the recently-established name for this city. Up until two years ago this area was wastelands. A barren land that extended out from the east side of Midgar, a city of steel and iron. Now, that's become a fine city. Construction on several buildings had started as well. I didn't know why they needed so many tall buildings when there was all this empty land around. But it's nothing to do with me. They could do whatever they liked. Edge was a city of freedom.
I walked down the main street to the central square. This main street, which extended out east from Midgar, was originally used for transporting building materials. When the sides of the main street was filled with the houses they built with the materials that were brought here, the city started expanding out in a radial pattern. The landscape is changing with each day. If you stood in the same spot every day, you'd see the flourishing growth of the city. I'm normally of a critical disposition, but I can't help but be speechless at that sight. You can feel the positive energy of people. Whenever you're feeling tired, look at the city.
I like how you've translated it. I particularly like the wanker line lol. Are those nick foley insults direct translations, or have you had to rewrite those?
I have other plans for tonight but am going to start it after making tea, and hopefully I will have chapter 2 out by Monday.
