BIA Ch. 124

It was five in the afternoon when they landed at Eloy Airport and retrieved their luggage. Fortunately, thanks to Jack sending a car, they didn’t have to stop by the rental car agency and deal with nonsense about mobile driver’s licenses or cell phones. Instead, they had to face an FBI agent waiting in the parking lot with a sour face.

“Do I really have to play chauffeur for you?”

The large, shaved-headed man cursed as soon as he saw Mickey. Getting out of the driver’s seat, he slammed the door shut violently enough to break it and shouldered past Mickey.

“Who’s that?”

“Harold… he’s with the Organized Crime Division. My senior.”

From what he heard, it seemed Harold had been picking fights with Mickey since he joined, even though Mickey hadn’t done anything. Seeing how he harassed him for trivial reasons like ‘So what if you’re the youngest to pass?’ or ‘Do you think you’re hot stuff just because you finished your probation early?’, it was just that. An inferiority complex.

“Organizations are the same everywhere.”

As Isaiah said this while opening the passenger door, Mickey, who had paused while opening the opposite car door, looked at him with a ‘Surely not?’ expression.

“When I first joined WD, there were a few old geezers itching to pick a fight with me for similar reasons.”

“So, what did you do?”

Mickey asked, his eyes sparkling. He looked eager to follow suit if there was a method worth using.

“Shot them.”

“Excuse me…?”

“I insisted it was an accident that happened while cleaning my gun and got away with it, but after that, nobody bothered me.”

Mickey silently got into the driver’s seat. The car was a black Ford sedan. Isaiah remembered that the car he had wrecked yesterday was also a black Ford. Well, it was unremarkable, sturdy, and common on the streets. There was nothing better for official government use. Above all, it was domestic.

“Where are we going? Taten? Bell? Or your apartment?”

Mickey asked as he started the engine.

“The church.”

“You mean St. Patrick’s Church?”

“Yeah.”

As soon as Isaiah’s answer came, Mickey started the car. Isaiah, who was fastening his seatbelt, belatedly realized his mistake. Mickey’s forearms, desperately turning the steering wheel to exit the parking lot, looked like they would burst any second. No, more accurately, his clothes looked like they would burst.

He had taken off the bomb vest yesterday dawn, right after finishing the call with Jack. But the unsightly sweatsuit remained. Honestly, when it was just the two of them, he thought it wouldn’t matter even if Mickey was wearing rags, but he couldn’t take him to where Bran was looking like this. Regardless of whether Bran would be suspicious or whatever, he hated it because it was embarrassing.

Eventually, Isaiah leaned back against the seat and added briefly.

“Before that, let’s buy you some clothes.”

When asked what brand of suit Mickey preferred, he said he didn’t really have a preference. Isaiah remembered the tag on the suit jacket he had rummaged through yesterday belonged to a mid-to-low price brand famous for its cost-effectiveness. It seemed Mickey wasn’t the type to spend money on appearances.

Isaiah also had little interest in clothes. Suits were even further outside his interest. So, first, they went to Lynn Avenue. His calculation was that since all sorts of luxury brand stores were gathered there, if they just walked into any of them, the staff knowledgeable in this area would figure out and dress Mickey in clothes that suited him.

Sure enough, as soon as they entered the Brown store right across from the public parking lot, two staff members (who were clearly gay) excitedly rushed over. Of course, at first, they couldn’t hide their contemptuous gazes seeing Mickey in the tight-fitting gray sweatsuit, but when Isaiah took out a wad of cash from his caddy bag and asked them to dress Mickey according to that amount, they instantly changed their attitude and led Mickey to the fitting room as if serving a prince.

After that, for a while, he could hear the commotion as the staff had Mickey try this on, then that on. Just as Isaiah was about to tell them to stop fussing and just come out wearing anything, a staff member brought Mickey out.

“How is it? So wonderful, right?”

Hmm, is it really that great? Isaiah narrowed his eyes. Sure, with his height and build, he’d look decent in anything. But unfortunately, what Isaiah saw every day was Bran dressed in a suit. He rarely felt much impression from a man’s appearance.

As if noticing something in that lukewarm gaze, Mickey quietly said.

“Hey, don’t look at the person, look at the clothes.”

This guy is getting quick-witted.

Isaiah crossed his arms and scanned Mickey’s entire body once more. But his assessment didn’t change much. He could tell the fabric was better than the suit from yesterday, but that was it. The fit was similar to the suit he wore yesterday, and the dark navy color… wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the best. Perhaps because he knew Mickey was an FBI agent, he somehow felt that black was the best.

“Make it black.”

At Isaiah’s words, the staff member waved his hands dismissively, saying, “Ayy, why? This color is perfect right now. It matches his eye color well too. Let’s do black later. You’re not going to a funeral, are you?”

“We are going to a funeral.”

“Oh my…”

The staff member, saying he had been rude, quickly took Mickey back to the fitting room. Isaiah also got up from his seat and went towards the fitting room. It was to save even a little bit of back-and-forth time.

While Mickey was changing inside, the staff member chose a new necktie and brought it over. Isaiah took the black necktie the staff brought and entered the fitting room. Mickey shrieked ‘Ugh!’ at Isaiah entering without knocking.

“Ah, I’m not fully dressed yet.”

“Hurry up and put it on. We don’t have time.”

Isaiah clicked his tongue and sat on the chair placed in a corner of the fitting room. Mickey looked at Isaiah as if wanting to say something, then turned around and finished buttoning his shirt.

What a funny guy. Considering they had seen each other’s dicks.

As he crossed his legs, holding the necktie, a strong floral scent suddenly brushed past his nose. The familiar scent made Isaiah unconsciously look around, and realizing its source, he asked without thinking.

“Did you put on perfume?”

“No?”

Mickey turned his head to look at Isaiah. Then, while fastening the cuff buttons of his sleeve, he said, It must be the body wash scent.

“This body wash scent seems quite strong. Seeing as the lingering scent still remains even though I washed this morning.”

“Body wash…”

“Yes. I can still smell it on you too.”

In that moment, Isaiah realized. Right, the scent remains even after washing off the foam. It didn’t disappear completely.

“Why are you…?”

Mickey blinked, taking the necktie from Isaiah’s hand.

“What?”

“No, just, why are you suddenly laughing?”

“Ah.”

Isaiah uncrossed his legs and muttered.

“Just because. I feel good for some reason.”

“Huh?”

Mickey looked slightly taken aback by Isaiah’s answer, then suddenly looked down between his own legs. Then, tossing the necktie aside, he hurriedly started putting on his pants.

He was a funny guy anyway. Isaiah stood up and snapped lowly.

“I’m not interested in your crappy pistol, so just take good care of it and don’t leave it lying around.”

All of Mickey’s clothes cost a little under 5,000 dollars. It was a bit hard to understand that the socks alone cost over 400 dollars, but he paid thinking ‘so be it’. It was money he had no use for anymore anyway. He didn’t feel it was a waste.

After asking them to dispose of the sweatsuit he had worn, it was well past six in the evening when they left the store in the new suit. He had actually debated whether to buy a bouquet or not, worried if it was too much, but there was no need for such worries anymore. To make it on time, they’d have to ignore traffic signals and floor it.

Fortunately, when they arrived at St. Patrick’s Church, the service was still in progress. Isaiah went up to the second floor with Mickey. Perhaps because it was a weekday service, there was no choir. But the number of people attending the service was larger than expected. Excluding the Kalisz members sitting in the middle rows, there seemed to be at least fifty or sixty people.

Bran was sitting in the very front row on the first floor. It seemed the main figures of today’s baptism ceremony sat in the front row. Besides Bran, two other people were sitting there, a man and woman with graying hair. Seeing them sitting close together, they seemed to be a married couple.

“I baptize you with water for repentance. But after me comes one who is more powerful than I, whose sandals I am not worthy to carry. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Pastor Benjamin raised his voice piously with both hands held high. Whether Protestant, Catholic, or a cult, only the tone differed slightly; the verses of the Bible were similar. If his memory served him right, this was probably from the Gospel of Matthew. He had heard it ad nauseam in churches and cathedrals as a child. That everyone should repent. That if you repent and are baptized in the name of Christ, all sins can be forgiven.

Back then, he thought it was nonsense. Does that mean you don’t go to hell no matter how many evil deeds you commit? Can you go to heaven even if you kill a hundred, a thousand people, as long as you repent and get baptized? He even got scolded by the adults around him for openly scoffing.

But why? Now, laughter doesn’t come. He still thinks it’s nonsense, just like back then, but the laughter doesn’t come.

It must be because he wants to believe. Whether it’s Christ or anyone else, he wishes they would forgive Bran’s sins. That they would forgive all the past sins he committed and turn a blind eye to all the sins he will commit in the future. So that if only he could remain a pure soul until the very last day, he himself would gladly receive baptism. If told to enter the water, he would enter; if told to jump into a pit of fire, he would jump. A thousand times, ten thousand times.