🐲Red Dragon: Ah! (Cry of pain).
A young man was removing the glass fragments with metal tweezers, disinfecting and stitching the wounds. He had long, pastel-colored hair, one per strand. He wore broken glasses with gaps in the lenses. His skin was grayish, like the dust from places abandoned for years. He had cut his patient's uniform so he could work without problems, but he didn't expose any private parts (there are limits).
We were located in the Suicidal Eagle's shelter, in Sector 10. An underground parking lot with stretchers ready for use someday, a car without wheels or doors that served as storage, whose seats had been removed to the outside, a huge television connected to a video game console, and several books stacked in random places. There were rooms built with wooden planks held by brackets and screws to the walls and floor.
Young man (Suicidal Eagle's voice): Stay still. You should take your hand off your face, you can barely breathe.
🐲Red Dragon: Just take care of the wounds!
🦅Suicidal Eagle: Stop screaming, I'll have to gag you.
🐲Red Dragon: If you put anything in my mouth, I'll break your teeth. (Threatening.)
He removed the last tiny fragment, placing it in a mound on a handkerchief.
🦅Suicidal Eagle: We're done.
She exhaled with relief; the torture made her tremble.
🦅Suicidal Eagle: Let me get you some bandages and something to lean on. Are you going to take your hands off your face?
🐲Red Dragon: If I do, I'll have to kill you.
🦅Suicidal Eagle: If you can...
He brought a wheelchair and began to delicately bandage the injured areas, not wanting to undo what he'd just finished because of a slip.
🦅Suicide Eagle: I suppose you'll be healed in a week, but you shouldn't walk. You can stay here.
🐲Red Dragon: I don't want to.
🦅Suicide Eagle: It's not an option. The General has paid me to come find you and treat your wounds if necessary.
🐲Red Dragon: That sounded romantic. (Ironic.)
🦅Suicide Eagle: If you're not going to let me see your face, you could tell me your name.
He shook his head, always covering himself.
🐲Red Dragon: No.
🦅Suicide Eagle: Even if it's a fake one, calling you the great and powerful Red Dragon is very long.
🐲Red Dragon: It's just Red Dragon.
🦅Suicide Eagle: Very long... and ridiculous.
🐲Red Dragon: Ridiculous?
She bared her teeth as she spoke, like animals do to warn they have combat tools.
🦅Suicide Eagle: Yes, ridiculous.
🐲Red Dragon: So says the Suicide Eagle.
🦅Suicide Eagle: I didn't choose my stage name, it was the people.
🐲Red Dragon: And I didn't choose to be the Red Dragon; that's what the police called me.
🦅Suicide Eagle: What name would you have liked to have?
The woman stopped digging in the recesses of her memory without unearthing anything interesting.
🐲Red Dragon: I don't care. I guess he would have named me after some fairy-tale dragon or some place in China.
🦅Suicide Eagle: Why so much obsession with China?
🐲Red Dragon: Just so my name connects with the suit, the Chinese dragons.
He thought for a while before answering.
🦅Suicide Eagle: What do you think of Atami? I have a friend there.
🐲Red Dragon: Atami is in... Japan? Weren't we talking about China?
🦅Suicide Eagle: He's not my friend either, he's... an acquaintance. He was trying to give a comical touch to his mistake and downplay it. "You can call me Sam."
🐲Red Dragon: Roger.
Roger? He was surprised she was following the outdated protocol; almost everyone at the security companies ignored it.
🦅Sam: Are you ready?
🐲Red Dragon: What for?
He picked her up and sat her in the wheeled chair. She moved it out of her own free will; she didn't want Sam to come over and help.
🐲Red Dragon: Call me Atami, it's easy to remember.
🦅Sam: Can you move?
He spun the wheels, checking their smooth progress and whether or not they needed oiling.
🐲Atami: Yeah... I think so.
🦅Sam: Let me introduce you to your partner.
🐲Atami: Partner?
🦅Sam: Yes, I've been in charge of almost all of the L2 employees for some time now.
🐲Atami: It's not like there are that many of us.
She guided him through that dark and terrifying room, lit by weak lamps.
[.- .-.-.]
(Female voice): Don't you want a balloon?
(Male voice): Leave me alone!
Three people were in a room. A man was lying on the floor. A little boy about six years old. A woman dressed in a wedding dress twisted like a wet rag, carrying balloons and covering her face with a cloth sack with two black eyes, from some kind of stuffed animal, on it. The bag had a zipper on one side that looked like a crooked mouth. The entire dress was poorly sewn and red. Her entire arms stuck out of the dress, and you could see her bare toes as she walked, an absorbing black unbecoming of any human being.
Woman: Come on, big boy, I'm not going to touch you.
The man stopped hyperventilating. The woman's voice was soft, sweet, and even possessed a natural sensuality. A siren's song.
Woman: You'll be the one who figures it out on your own.
The woman grabbed a pen from a table, kissed him, smearing her lipstick on it, and tossed it weakly. The man caught it in midair with both hands as a reflex, then fell to the ground, his eyes darting in all directions in a flash. She looked at the boy.
Woman: Are you okay?
No response, so she offered him a hand and led him to the exit.
Woman: Calm down, the police will be here soon.
[.-.. --- .-.-.]
(Voice of the female shadow from the beginning): Dad!
The young woman arrived carrying cloth bags. Her brown hair was cut in a "whatever God wants." She had the arms of a bald chimpanzee that hurt just imagining the punch they might give you. Her eyes were a little slanted.
The house had quite a few windows, covered with white paint. Not a single piece of furniture was missing some kind of damage, scratch, or breakage. Even so, everything was clean, and it was clear they had made unsuccessful attempts to repair and maintain everything.
Father (male voice of the masked man from the beginning): Are you here yet? You've taken a long time.
Daughter: The ordering machine was broken, and the substitute cashier was half asleep, so it's your turn next time. Have you thought about what I told you?
Father: What?
That man was jotting down individual words on a piece of paper. He didn't put all his effort into it because he had more important things at hand, but he did add new concepts from time to time.
Daughter: We could start collecting what we're owed.
Father: Don't start again. We've already had this conversation, and I told you no.
Daughter: Think about it. With the money, we can improve the equipment... or maintain it. You were the one who insisted on using a screen on your helmet; the light doesn't pay for itself.
Father: Think about it...
Daughter: No. Don't start a conversation.
She seemed tired of her speech; she threw herself onto the couch, balancing the load by the handle so it wouldn't fall.
Father: We can't set a price; it takes away the mystery. Can you imagine the Crow Hunter advertising toothpaste? I'm not from NDI.
Daughter: I don't understand. You should care more about money than anyone!
Father: Don't start with your stories. Give me the bags, I'll cook.
The woman dropped the bags on the floor.
Daughter: Do not change the subject. Don't you think we should talk? (Calmly.)
Father: No. If you want to collect, go for it, but you'll only get money from the ones you catch yourself.
Daughter: Are you going to let me do it my way?
Father: No, your way is never the way. Do it right, or don't do it at all.
She searched among the cushions, found a pile, and threw it at him in protest.
Daughter: I'll remind you who created your team. (Emphasis on "your team.")
Father: I'm not saying you don't have talent, but I don't think you're ready.
Daughter: Yes? The next one will be mine, and I'll do it perfectly. (Amused tone.)
Father: How much do you bet?
She checked the funds in her account using her cell phone; it wasn't in the double digits.
Daughter: You know I don't have any money.
Father: If you catch one without my help, I'll give you ten kay.
Daughter: Ten thousand?
Father: Yes, and add the reward money. What do you say?
He barely thought about it before jumping into the bet, certain he'd win.
Daughter: I'm going to leave you without a single coin.
Father: You already are.
Daughter: You shouldn't have said goodbye.
The daughter picked up the bags and gave them to the father. They both held them up as if they were full of feathers.
Daughter: You could make pickled mushrooms, as a suggestion.
The father was still in full uniform.
[--.- ..- . .-.-.]
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