BIA Ch. 138

Isaiah, holding back a smile, kissed Bran first this time.

“Then just how many did I kill alone?”

“A few more and it’ll be a hundred.”

“I killed half the Kalisz members myself.”

Sweet kisses were exchanged several times, incongruous with the grim conversation. Finally, Bran sucked Isaiah’s lower lip with a soft smack, then whispered in an utterly affectionate, yet very secretive voice.

“So, what did you get from Martino in exchange for taking care of twenty men’s share?”

The chillingly sensual nuance of the temptation actually snapped Isaiah to his senses. He subtly pulled away from Bran and said.

“Look, sorry to ruin the mood… but you’ve been reeking strongly of blood for a while now.”

“Endure it.”

Bran urged, pulling Isaiah’s shoulders tighter as he tried to escape.

“No, I can’t.”

Isaiah finally threw off Bran’s arms and forcibly broke free from his embrace.

“I wouldn’t mind if it was your blood, but it’s someone else’s.”

When Isaiah mentioned the unpleasant taste of blood lingering since their kiss, Bran laughed as if finding it absurd.

“You seem to think you’re any different.”

“Ah, right. I’m covered in blood too.”

Only then did Isaiah touch his own forehead, where blood had dried in patches.

“Whose blood is it, anyway?”

“Whose? Manny’s?”

Bran quietly spat on the floor.

“Ah, no. It’s Harold’s.”

“Who’s that?”

“Someone. FBI.”

Only after saying it did he think, Oops. It was as good as confessing to Bran that he had contacted Martino through the FBI.

“I should send flowers.”

Unexpectedly, Bran didn’t seem to care much about it. Contrary to Isaiah’s expectation that he would be interrogated about various things, Bran just said that and left it at that.

In a way, this was even scarier, but it didn’t matter. For now, the best course of action was to let it pass quietly, whatever it was. Isaiah started walking first, pretending to be unfazed, and raised his voice.

“Send a big arrangement, if you’re going to.”

The corridor leading from the lobby split into two paths. One led to the chapel, and the other towards something like an education center. Following the arrow labeled ‘Education Center’, they soon reached a narrow corridor with three doors lining its sides. Isaiah opened the doors one by one, deliberately chattering busily.

“The body’s pretty messed up. I handled it roughly.”

“Judging by the state of it, I can tell.”

“I couldn’t help it. Bullets were raining down right in front of me, so I needed something to block them.”

He peeked into the empty Youth Group Meeting Room and the Junior Catechism Room, and was just opening the door to the room labeled ‘Volunteer Team Meeting Room’.

“So, stop changing the subject.”

Bran spoke, roughly slamming the door Isaiah had half-opened shut with a bang!

“Tell me the details of the new negotiation terms you drafted behind my back.”

“……”

“What did you demand from Martino in return for reducing the support troops from forty to twenty?”

Bran’s low voice echoed in the dark corridor. Outside, gunshots still rang out ceaselessly. Stalling for time in this situation was foolish.

“Answer me.”

Even in the dim corridor, Bran’s golden eyes shone sharply. It was a gaze that seemed like it would forgive no lies and see through even the most perfect deception.

Isaiah sighed and pulled his hand free from Bran’s grip.

“I told him I’d secure the rights to a few profitable shops for him, so just leave Lombard alone.”

“And then?”

“He said he’d just take Brick and Floyd.”

Bran scratched the bridge of his nose with the pistol he was holding and laughed. It was clearly a sneer.

“Martino said that? Really?”

“Doesn’t it make sense for those two places? They’re the real gems. Plus, from Martino’s perspective, they have symbolic value.”

“Swallowing Lombard whole has far more symbolic value.”

“But he got to spare the lives of twenty subordinates instead. As a boss, I think choosing that is naturally the right call.”

“The Martino I know would never be that kind of person.”

“Maybe you misjudged him.”

Anyway, move aside now. Isaiah pulled Bran, who was blocking the door, aside, getting angry for no reason.

“If you’ve satisfied your curiosity, go find Chester or something. What are you doing in this mess?”

Isaiah opened the Volunteer Team Meeting Room door and went inside. Unlike the other rooms he had only glanced into from outside, he searched every nook and cranny, even checking under the desks. It was to avoid giving Bran a chance to talk.

Fortunately, Bran said nothing while Isaiah searched the meeting room. Instead, as soon as Isaiah confirmed the room was empty and came out, Bran abruptly asked.

“Mickey?”

“What?”

At the sudden mention of Mickey, Isaiah inadvertently widened his eyes.

“What’s Mickey doing?”

Is he dead? Bran asked nonchalantly.

“He’s not dead yet!”

Isaiah shouted in alarm.

“He’s waiting in the car.”

“I see.”

“Why all of a sudden—”

Before Isaiah could finish his question, Bran gripped his pistol with both hands and immediately pulled the trigger.

— Bang!

Just as Isaiah turned around, a dark shadow collapsed at the end of the corridor. Bran kicked away the Parabellum casing that fell at his feet and said indifferently.

“I was just thinking about how many flower baskets I’d need to order.”

“……”

This man was bad for his heart in so many ways.

While Isaiah calmed his startled heart, Bran approached the corpse. Prying the gun from the corpse’s hand, Bran frowned as soon as he recognized it as a compact model of the SIG P250 and checked the corpse’s face.

“Was it Dudley. It’s exactly the kind of gun a guy like him would use.”

“Why, does he have small hands? Or does he like cute things?”

“No. It means he’s self-righteous and uncooperative.”

“……”

“I don’t know why someone would use a toy-like gun like this alone, ignoring the guns everyone else uses. It’s not like he’s a social misfit.”

To be insulted like this even after death just for using ammunition incompatible with other pistols. For Isaiah, who had gone as far as modifying his pistol to use specific ammunition, it couldn’t help but be hurtful talk.

“I think it’d be better if we split up to search.”

Bran, still crouching beside the corpse, looked up at Isaiah.

“Are you sulking because of the gun talk?”

“No.”

“It’s fine. I find that part of you charming.”

“I said no!”

Isaiah snapped angrily.

“It’s because being with you is distracting.”

It was true. Even in such a critical situation, he kept having other thoughts and getting sidetracked, which was problematic. He hadn’t even noticed the presence passing right behind him, needing his life saved by someone else’s shot. Something unimaginable for his usual self.

“But I like going together.”

Bran said, breaking the trigger mechanism of the P250. It was likely intended to prevent anyone else from picking up the gun and using it. It was a natural action in this situation, yet even that obvious act looked unnecessarily cool. Isaiah almost blurted out, “Me too.”

“We don’t have time. Let’s move efficiently.”

“If you insist.”

Bran tossed the broken pistol onto the corpse’s body with a thud and stood up.

“You go that way. I’ll go this way.”

Isaiah sent Bran down the right corridor and headed left himself. After walking a short distance, he found stairs leading up to the second floor.

I see. So going this way leads back around to the chapel.

Isaiah went up to the second floor just in case, but as expected, no one was there. Only the organ he had seen yesterday and the music stands used by the choir members were left standing there forlornly.

Isaiah leaned against the second-floor railing and looked down at the first floor. The first floor was literally a picture of hell. Dozens of corpses were strewn about everywhere, and the walls and chairs were completely splattered with blood.

It was a horrific and gruesome sight that made him instinctively want to look away. Still, narrowing his eyes to search for anyone who might be hiding among the corpses, just in case, he was quickly scanning between the bodies from one end of the chapel to the other.

Suddenly, he sensed a faint movement among a pile of haphazardly thrown corpses. Isaiah quickly shouldered the rifle he was holding. He pressed his eye to the scope’s eyepiece and took precise aim at the spot where he had just felt the movement. The distance was so close that even magnifying it just three times was enough to make out the shape of the pupil within the brown iris.

However, he couldn’t tell who it was even looking at the face. Never mind the name, there was no way to know if it was one of Chester’s men or Bran’s. Besides the fact that the entire face was covered in blood, a bullet was lodged in one eye, crushing half the face. There was even a hole in the abdomen, spilling blood and intestines. Yet, unluckily, it seemed the person hadn’t died instantly.

In cases like this, ending their suffering immediately was the best form of relief. Isaiah released the safety on the AT rifle with his thumb. After aligning the scope’s crosshairs precisely on the bloodied head, he immediately pulled the trigger.