BIA Ch. 100

After dropping Chester off at Cedric’s house, he went straight to the Dolphin. It was just past six-twenty when he arrived at the bar.

“We’re a bit late. Is that okay?” Manny asked, following him inside the bar as Chester had ordered.

“Doesn’t matter.”

He had called for a generous time anyway, intending to wait for quite a while. Judging from past experience, the person supplying the bullets usually passed through here between seven and eight in the evening. According to the bar owner, they sometimes stayed at the bar for a drink.

Isaiah thought he knew who it was. There was a man who often caught his eye whenever he came to pick up bullets. Not because he was handsome, but because of his clothes. It would be stranger if he didn’t attract attention, sitting alone in a neighborhood bar sipping a drink while wearing a garish outfit you might see at a gay club on Halloween night. Aside from the cringe-worthy outfit, he had the typical appearance of a sniper: a greasy ponytail, tattoos covering his whole body, a mustache, and an upper body that was particularly developed compared to his lower half.

Isaiah cut through the thick cigarette smoke and went to the bar counter.

“Roy Rogers.”

The bar owner glanced at Isaiah’s face as usual, then started pouring whiskey into an on-the-rocks glass filled with ice.

“Not yet. The grenadine syrup is on its way.”

“When will it arrive?”

“It should be here soon.”

“I guess I’ll wait.”

Isaiah ordered a ginger ale, then took a seat at a table near the bar. He frowned when Manny naturally tried to sit next to him. “What?”

“What do you mean, what?”

“Go somewhere else. You’re ruining the mood for a drink.”

“Cut the crap. You don’t even drink, you bastard.”

“Anyway, don’t sit next to me. It pisses me off.”

“Agh, this guy, seriously.”

Manny glared at Isaiah, hands on his hips.

“Anyway, just know you were a hundred times better when your head was messed up. You were stupid back then, but at least you were cute.”

As soon as Manny stomped off to another table, a bar employee brought over a bottled ginger ale and a cup of ice. Isaiah poured the ginger ale into the iced cup and took a sip. For some reason, the ginger ale tasted particularly bad today. It probably didn’t even contain real ginger, just flavoring, yet his mouth filled with a bitterness that went beyond spiciness. Of course, a mass-produced product wouldn’t change its taste overnight, so this must purely be a matter of mood. To make matters worse, the song playing from the speakers was a sticky, clinging jazz tune, which only soured his mood further.

Just how many people did Isaiah Diaz bewitch for this person and that person to keep harping on about him? Was that guy really so cute? Even so, the shell is me, so how different could his actions have been from mine for them to still be looking for that already-dead guy?

Of course, Manny or Chester didn’t matter. Whatever those two did with Isaiah Diaz, whether they found him cute or not, was none of his business. But he didn’t like Bran thinking of Isaiah Diaz when looking at him. Truthfully, it had bothered him even during sex yesterday. He worried Bran might recall his time with Isaiah Diaz while having sex with him.

“……”

Thinking about it made his mood sink again. He couldn’t understand why he had to feel this inferiority complex towards none other than himself.

He was pouring the ginger ale down his throat as if it were strong liquor when the bar door opened, and a man draped in a black fur coat that reached his ankles entered. A man that large wearing something like that went beyond imposing; he looked like a wild beast. He wasn’t even wearing a shirt under the fur coat.

The man strode towards the bar counter, ignoring the stares of the customers. The bar owner, who was wiping a glass, greeted him with a bright expression.

“Scarlett.”

Isaiah doubted his ears. Could that man’s name really be Scarlett?

“Emmett.”

His suspicion was correct. The man raised his hand in response and handed a box he had tucked under his arm to the bar owner.

“Here, the item you requested.”

“Thanks.”

The bar owner took the box and placed it down behind the bar counter. Scarlett ordered a drink and sat down at the bar. Isaiah ordered another bottle of ginger ale. He sipped it as slowly as possible, occasionally glancing around Scarlett just enough not to be noticed. But for thirty minutes, no one approached him. No one received anything other than drinks from the bar owner either.

Another ten minutes passed, and Isaiah was ordering his third bottle of ginger ale. Finally, Scarlett stood up from his seat. As he was paying for his drinks, the bar owner whispered something in his ear, and Scarlett whipped his head around.

Damn it.

He averted his gaze just before their eyes met, but it was useless. Having paid, Scarlett walked straight over to the table where Isaiah was sitting.

“Did you come here to see me?”

“Me?” Isaiah replied with a blank face, picking up his ginger ale bottle. Pretending to drink from the bottle, he tilted his head back slightly and saw Manny watching them from a distant table. He looked tense due to the sudden situation. But given the distance, he wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. Besides, the music was loud enough to burst eardrums right now.

Isaiah debated what to do, then decided to be honest.

“I’m not interested in you.”

“Then?”

“I was curious who takes the bullets I leave behind.”

“That’s you.”

“Besides me.”

Chester had probably already arranged for another sniper. If that sniper happened to be affiliated with WD, they would pick up bullets here just like him, and Isaiah wanted to confirm who it was. If he knew who the sniper was, he could potentially use their sniping style against them for a preemptive strike.

“There’s no one besides you,” Scarlett said. Of course, Isaiah didn’t believe him. Supplying bullets was a role for retired snipers. They still received money doing this supply job even after retirement. In other words, they were still affiliated with WD.

“Anyway, I get it, so,”

“More importantly, Lanius, weren’t you attached to Bran?” Scarlett interrupted Isaiah. When Isaiah just stared instead of answering, Scarlett casually sat down in the opposite chair and continued.

“That was definitely the vibe.”

“What vibe are you talking about?” Don’t act like you know, you piece of shit. Isaiah spat out harshly. It wasn’t meant as a threat; the hostile words just came out naturally. He sensed a very ominous nuance in Scarlett’s tone.

“What’s wrong, we even had a nice chat.”

Just as he expected, Scarlett mentioned something he had no memory of. Of course, he could just be saying it, but in this case, another possibility was much greater. This man had spoken not with him, but with Isaiah Diaz.

“What’s this, forgotten already?”

This damn guy is going to ruin everything for me. Isaiah wiped his face with his hand. He felt like throwing it all away, but he couldn’t. Scarlett seeing him as being in league with Bran meant that WD headquarters still believed that too. If he was going to insist the mission failure was a mistake, not intentional, he had to prove as much as possible that he had no connection to Bran.

Finally, Isaiah sighed and said, “Believe what you want, but I don’t remember that time.”

“Were you on drugs or something?”

“Not exactly, but, well, you can think of it as a similar state.”

“Right, you didn’t seem quite right in the head.”

Scarlett said with a serious expression. Seeing him accept it so readily suggested Isaiah Diaz must have acted incredibly foolishly. Should he consider this fortunate or just damn annoying? Feeling conflicted, Isaiah nodded.

“Yeah, I wasn’t in my right mind. I didn’t even know my own name back then, so I was just doing whatever Bran told me to.”

“Hmm. I don’t know what’s what, but are you back now?”

“Yeah.”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘So what?’ He snatched Isaiah’s ginger ale bottle without permission and downed the remaining drink in one gulp. Then he placed the empty bottle back on the table and said,

“Did you know? I was pretty close with Jacana back in my active days.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We even shared the same barracks in Iraq for half a year.”

Isaiah looked closely at the face of the man sitting opposite him. Now that he mentioned it, he noticed the fine wrinkles hidden beneath the light makeup. He had initially guessed the man was in his mid-to-late forties, but he was likely older than he thought.

“Ask Jacana if he knows Scarlett Macaw^[1].”

Scarlett Macaw. That seemed to be the man’s codename. It was indeed a fitting name.

“I’ll ask when my father wakes up.”

“Right. If he wakes up.”

Scarlett nodded. The man habitually picked up the ginger ale bottle before him, realized it was empty, and put it back down.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

When Isaiah asked, Scarlett politely declined.

“I should probably get going now.”

He said, glancing at the watch on his wrist. Still, he didn’t leave immediately but looked at Isaiah’s face for a moment, then nodded firmly as if he had made a decision.

“Alright. I’ll tell you this out of loyalty to Jacana.”

Scarlett gestured for him to come closer. Isaiah instinctively leaned forward. Soon, a low whisper cut through the music and reached his eardrum.

“I know Bran is a capable guy, but Chester will be the boss. So, you’d better pick the right side.”