†Chapter 9: Crash into the Wilds†

 

 

 

†Chapter 9: Crash into the Wilds†

 

THE following day, Euphemia headed to Mayor Saionji’s office on the highest floor of city hall using her designated route. She had the morning off work. Zelaide escorted her to the office and waited for her to finish in a separate room on the same floor.

“…And that’s the gist of things, Erica.” Euphemia finished giving her long report and sipped the light-green tea the mayor had poured for her. This was her favorite tea because of its soothing qualities.

Every night, Euphemia sent reports to Erica through her IHT, as the mayor was too busy to answer the phone most days. Erica did take the time to call Euphemia twice a night to check in on her whenever possible, but they always kept those conversations neutral in the off-chance someone was listening. This was the first time the sisters had met in person since Erica hired Zelaide as Euphemia’s bodyguard.

“I see… So a Muta that should have been extinct infiltrated the house. And there’s a high chance that Muta was stolen from a high security zone within the Municipal Biotechnology Research Institute. Then, at the beginning of the week, Mister Zelaide turned the tables on his attackers, the Vermis and Infernum members, in Out Circle’s District Y. Obviously, the attackers filed no reports, but a hidden witness, a resident of the area, called the police, who investigated the scene after the fact. And last but certainly not least, you happened to coincidently pass by an area where a Nightz addict set off a bomb just yesterday… This is an astounding report for less than a month’s work,” Erica summarized as she viewed the data.

“Don’t forget about the progress made with my Mongolian gerbils either,” Euphemia emphasized, ignoring the bloody events her sister read aloud. She changed out her tea leaves for fresh ones and poured herself another cup of tea. Reusing the delicate ceremonial-grade tea leaves destroyed their taste and color.

“Yes, yes. Your gerbils…” Erica left a note about the gerbils on her IHT with her perfectly manicured fingers while she pondered the situation. “I have to say, incidents keep happening to you to a shocking degree… It’s almost like—yes, like you’re being watched. Not just like, but we can be positive you are being watched.”

“Well, yeah, we can chalk the first incident up to someone targeting me, but we don’t know if the rest were all related to me. The second incident was 100 percent targeting Zelaide. The third is little more than coincidence.”

“You know, Mia, I find it very difficult to be as optimistic as you. We didn’t have all the details on that strange Muta during your last report. Did you call it a Chude? Things were too perfectly arranged—they attacked you with a creature kept in the laboratory you work for. If that wasn’t ominous enough, they even took the time and effort to incubate the frozen eggs and sperm before stealing it from a high security facility. They are clearly trying to get under your skin without killing you outright. Put simply, they are threatening me through you,” Erica told her little sister in a stern tone.

“…You think that’s possible?”

“I am positive it’s the case. The enemy is implicitly warning me that they can take your fate in their hands at any time. The only reason why no physical harm has come your way yet is because Mister Zelaide is always by your side, and when he’s not, you’re safely locked away inside that fortress of a house of his. So the reason why they attacked him is most likely to…yes…”

“Erica, quit trying to scare me with the theatrics.” Euphemia put her hands on her arms and shivered.

“Theatrics? I’m speaking normally. And don’t interrupt me—where was I? Right, the enemy has decided to eliminate the Beast Blood Zelaide who’s thwarting their ability to directly lay their hands on you. Getting rid of him is to make double good on their threat.”

“But Zel told me that Infernum is an assassination organization that’s only hostile towards Beast Bloods. What do they have to do with me?”

“Everything, little sister. Because I have no intentions of allowing any assassination organizations to exist in my city.”

“So basically, your political enemies and Infernum are connected somehow?” Euphemia inferred.

“It’s more than possible. I’ve imposed strict city-wide policies against crime, criminals, and crime syndicates, so it’s only natural that I’ve incurred the wrath of certain circles. I have also made speeches and policies advocating for Beast Bloods.”

“You have?”

“Yes. The first thought many have of Beast Bloods is that they’re atrocious criminals denoted by their name, but the fact is that Beast Bloods commit far fewer crimes than humans do. It’s just that the crimes they have committed are always so extreme they result in wide press coverage. The vast majority are already convinced Beast Bloods are dangerous criminals based solely on their distinctive personalities and physiques, further exacerbating the problem.”

“Zelaide is a kind person. And a fine gentleman…too much of one if you ask me,” Euphemia grumbled.

“Sounds like my eyes didn’t deceive me then…” Erica remarked as a blush redder than a beet overtook her hopeless sister’s face. She had anticipated Euphemia would be attracted to him.

“You’re never wrong, Erica.”

“I wish that were true… Back to the third incident, the one that occurred yesterday. You said you kept the restaurant a secret from the others until your party arrived, but you were inside for close to two hours, right? After confirming your location, they could have mapped out your probable route home and detonated the explosion there hoping you would fall victim to it.”

“Hold on! That was a suicide bombing, no matter how you look at it! One by a Nightz addict! Plus, it was a huge tragedy involving many people who had nothing to do with anything, several of which who died… They wouldn’t go that far—”

“I’m not going to scratch it from the list of possibilities while there is room for doubt. We must wait for the police to conduct their criminal investigation for more information… Cases involving Nightz have been increasing exponentially as of late, so we do have to consider it from that angle too… How are things with your cop friend?”

“You mean Wei Lin-jie? I keep in touch with him.”

“He seems like a trustworthy person.”

Erica’s comment was like a knife to the gut for Euphemia. Her sister would only say that if she had not only scrutinized his personal history since birth, but also his parents’ lineage.

Poor Wei… I’m really sorry. My sister now knows your preschool grades.

“He’s been my friend since university. He can be a bit weird at times, but he’s a really great guy with a strong sense of justice.”

“Says the woman who rejected him?”

“…You even looked into that?” Euphemia slumped in her seat, despairing over how elaborate her sister’s intelligence network was. Erica paid her no attention and brought the data up on the wall monitor. A young man in uniform with black hair appeared on the screen.

“Oh, this is a recent picture. He’s handsome. What a waste.”

“You’re right. That’s Wei for you, acting all serious for his picture. He’s actually pretty attractive like this,” Euphemia agreed.

“Okay, enough gushing. We should take the clearest route to our enemy… The incident with that snakelike Muta, the Chude, needs to be investigated under absolute secrecy. We can find our first clue there if we tread carefully. The enemy shouldn’t know you have information on that Muta just yet.”

“Yes, they shouldn’t. Highly classified materials aren’t viewable with a normal employee ID. I accessed it with the special ID you gave me…and that ID is top secret.”

“Be extremely careful. That ID is a strictly confidential piece of information you can’t even share with your direct superiors. Only President Murakami knows of it. Don’t tell anyone at all, even Zelaide.”

“Having that ID really paid off this time around. We learned that someone involved with the crime syndicates has infiltrated the institute.”

President Murakami knows, huh? I wonder why Erica favors that old man. Euphemia thought back to the handful of times she had encountered President Murakami. Now that I think about it, he’s the same ethnicity as Erica. But he’s such a plain man, you would never know it by looking at him.

“Yes, indeed it did. I’ll get in touch with President Murakami immediately and have him investigate the matter in the strictest secrecy.”

“Okay. Well, I kind of hate to burst your bubble, but everyone knows President Murakami as a nice guy, but not a very dependable one. He’s quiet and never speaks up during meetings. People lacking filters refer to him as ‘Mister Yes Man.’ He originally hails from a field that is completely irrelevant to biotechnology, right? Director Burhardt has way more popularity and support from employees by a long shot.”

“Borrowing the words of Mozart, neither a lofty degree of intelligence, nor imagination, nor both together, prove a man is worthy of a position of power. Did you know that one of the requirements for intelligence agents of the old world was a nice, gullible demeanor?”

“Really?! Are you implying that President Murakami is actually a clever and capable man of many talents?” Euphemia struggled to believe it.

“Did I say any such thing? Don’t look into this matter further. You’re so terrible at keeping secrets that I sometimes wonder if the saying ‘open book’ was made for you,” Erica said, shaking her head. Then she changed the topic again. “On to your rats.”

“They aren’t rats! They’re Mongolian gerbils!”

“Yes, those things. About your research—”

“I’m going to continue even if you order me to stop, Erica,” Euphemia rushed to interrupt, sensing Erica’s doubts. “Listen, I may be close to an earth-shattering breakthrough in the extermination of Nightz if I keep on this path. My instincts tell me so.”

After all her effort, Euphemia finally formed her own team at the Biotechnology Institute she had aspired to for years. She couldn’t bear it if she was forced to resign before realizing her ambitions. The job had become available to her due to her sister’s connections, but the accomplishments after that had all been the result of Euphemia’s efforts.

“Isn’t this the same instinct that hasn’t yielded anything so far?” Erica raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Until now it hasn’t. But things are going to be different now—how can I put it so you understand? I feel like I’ve been reborn? Made a fresh start in life? It’s like I have a clear goal to work towards… Like I’m brimming with motivation,” Euphemia explained, working out her feelings as she voiced them.

“…I suppose it’s because of him?”

“Geh… You think so? I do,” she admitted. Euphemia couldn’t make light of her sister’s intelligence enough to even entertain the idea that she could skillfully get herself out of this one. They were talking about Zelaide, of course.

“Have you fallen for him?”

“Yeah…probably. I haven’t told him. Zel thinks of me as work and doesn’t care much for humans… But I think he might be opening up to me a little more lately.”

“There isn’t a professional in this world who would lay a hand on their client.”

“He said he’d protect me through to the end. He might be my friend after this case is settled,” Euphemia argued defensively against Erica’s cold analysis.

“You will end up hurt either way. I acknowledge and accept Beast Bloods, but I don’t deny they are a different species from humanity.”

“…I can’t speak for all Beast Bloods because I don’t know anyone else, but Zel is an incredibly sensitive person. He seems to have mixed feelings towards humans, but…I can tell he’s a sincere man.”

“Be that as it may, I advise you against becoming serious about him. I believe he—they—are a people we shouldn’t become involved with on an emotional level. It’s for this express reason I plan to protect them under the law.”

“…But…”

Erica, you’re too late. I’m more than half serious about him.

Euphemia decided to keep that information to herself. The crucial matter at hand wasn’t love, but the enemies gunning for her life, her sister’s reputation, and Zelaide. And if these enemies turned out to be one and the same…

Euphemia held her head up high with newfound determination. “You’re doing the right thing, Erica. Cracking down on crime shouldn’t be thought of in the same vein as Beast Bloods.”

“I agree. All right, let’s set this topic aside for another day. You should be smart enough to know now isn’t the time for love games. On another note, I understand your feelings on the gerbils. I’ll permit your research. Strive hard to bring about results.” Erica knew how to scold and reward her little sister all at once.

“Really?! I’m so happy! I’ll do my best! I’ll keep at it until the eradication of Nightz becomes a sure possibility!”

“Don’t be silly, Mia… You don’t have to take it that far.” Erica’s lips curved into a slight smile as she watched her younger sister’s honest display of joy.

Erica was allowing Euphemia freedom because she gauged the situation as still being within acceptable limits, but should she be so inclined, stealing away her sister’s freedom was as simple as flicking a few keys on her IHT. Such an action would obviously be for the protection of her beloved family member.

But she could let Euphemia run free a while longer. Zelaide was an excellent bodyguard, and most notable of all, Euphemia’s presence in the Biotechnology Institute would prove most beneficial if there truly was a traitor among their ranks.

The Municipal Biotechnology Research Institute was one of Gothic City’s most vital facilities. Leaving her sister inside the institute would mislead the enemy into believing their cover was still safe, thereby increasing the chances that they would eventually give themselves away.

I’m fairly positive it’s someone close to Euphemia. A boss, a coworker, an acquaintance… They’ve long since wheedled their way into her life. She said several people jumped on the opportunity to join her gerbil research team. She’s the type to hang out with lots of people superficially, so I have to watch out for her, Erica concluded.

“Don’t overdo it. You’re the kind of person who has eyes for nothing else once you set your mind to something, Mia.”

“I know, Erica. You do your job as mayor to protect this city. And I’ll do what I can as a scientist.”

“Be extremely cautious… Don’t slack on your reports. I’ll get in touch with you whenever I learn something new as well, so please, please be careful… I have no family aside from you.”

Erica poked her little sister in the cheek as worry lines creased her face.

†††

IT was long past noon by the time Euphemia left city hall with Zelaide after sitting through Erica’s long list of concerns. Today, Euphemia went straight to the car instead of pestering Zelaide to take her out somewhere to eat like usual.

“Are you really goin’ to work now?” Zelaide asked without a word of complaint about being made to wait for hours. Was the glimmer of worry she saw in his keen teal eyes a figment of her imagination?

“I am. My time off only covers the morning shift and I don’t want to fall behind because of those people… Are you against me going?”

“…No problems here.” A smile briefly touched his lips and he stepped on the gas. “I’m gonna gun it. Ready?”

“Ready!” Euphemia cheered. “Wow! It’s so fast! This is awesome!”

“Make sure your seatbelt’s on tight!”

Euphemia’s bright emerald eyes shone like spring moss in the sunlight, delighting Zel. The car quickly sped through Center Circle and barreled through Largo Boulevard en route for Forzarin Gate. Largo Boulevard divided Gothic City from north-to-south, with “Largo” referring to the musical terminology for “broad and slow.” But the silver convertible cruised down the boulevard in the complete opposite manner, sailing through traffic under the hands of a skilled racer. Forzarin Gate’s spires came into view in no time. They passed through the gate check onto the freeway running out into the Wilds beyond.

Large facilities and factories dotted the landscape outside the fortress city. The Municipal Biotechnology Research Institute that Euphemia worked at was among them. The car comfortably cruised along the open road. At this speed, they should have arrived at the institute’s first gate in less than twenty minutes.

“Tch!” Zelaide loudly cursed as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “Yumi, get down!”

Euphemia immediately sank down in her seat and covered her head without asking any questions. She knew she had to obey without protest when Zelaide used his no-nonsense tone.

Zelaide concentrated all of his senses on the biker gang speeding toward the freeway from the open plains rolling left and right along the road. The motorcycles had suddenly appeared, kicking up a cloud of dust on the horizon.

The massive walls protecting the cities and outlying facilities on this world didn’t extend to their connecting freeways. Strict checks were required for entrance into any of the isolated, island-like city fortresses located in the sea of the Wilds, but this planet lacked the resources to extend the protective walls to the dangerous freeways linking the inhabited territories. The armored walls reached only a dozen or so kyros outside a city.

The biker gang weaved through the oncoming traffic. It might’ve been easy to dismiss them as thrill seekers on a joyride in the Wilds, if not for their coordinated formation and utter disregard of the law, along with the safety of those around them. These were hired professionals.

Two on the right, three on the left. How to handle them? Zelaide calculated the possible routes he could take.

Many vehicles entered and departed Gothic City, one of the planet’s largest, most high-tech cities. Eighteen-wheelers hauling heavy cargo took up the most space at this hour, and Zelaide floored it as he weaved between the lanes to get around them. There was ample space between the lanes going opposite directions to prevent accidents, but resources were too precious to spend on a formal buffer between them.

What’s going on? The muscles in Zelaide’s arms look tense. Euphemia felt nauseous, as if she were on a roller coaster without the ups and downs. She stayed low in her seat as she strained her ears in an attempt to better understand what was going on. The pleasant hum of the engine cranked up to a roar as the car accelerated. She wondered if they were getting close to hitting the car’s top speed. Something, or someone, was coming after them—that much was clear. As Erica had said, these incidents were happening too frequently to be anything other than suspicious.

Zelaide growled deep in his throat. Dammit. The other vehicles are in the way. Can’t steer how I want.

The car zoomed down the road at record speed, and they flew past the research institute where Euphemia worked. A good distance lay between them and the city. The facilities and factories would gradually decrease in number the farther they drove. Cruising at this speed for half a day would bring them to Romanesque City.

They won’t take it that far. They’ll make their move once the other vehicles clear out.

Experienced bikers followed them on large, armored motorcycles, staying hot on their tail at a set distance. Then, when the traffic had diminished enough, they seized their chance. The two motorcycles on the right of the freeway nimbly crossed lanes, infiltrating the safety zone without so much as a cursory glance at the vehicles driving towards the city to tail Zelaide’s car directly in the middle lane.

Their guns were visible, but the bikers didn’t open fire. Not only was it dangerous to drive with one hand at these insane speeds, they likely had intel on Zelaide’s armored car. The riders rode low against their bikes, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Out of nowhere, an eighteen-wheeler the size of a freight car swerved in front of Zelaide, forcing his silver, armored convertible to slow down.

The armor on the front of the motorcycle immediately behind them parted, and a front fender spear jutted out both sides. They were planning on shredding the car’s tires. The rider’s face wasn’t visible through the black-tinted face shield of their helmet, but Zelaide imagined a wicked smirk there.

This rider’s job was to drive parallel with Zelaide for the moment it took to render the wheels of his vehicle immobile. Finishing him off would be left to the other bikers. The motorcycle pressed in close with confident steering.

Zelaide flipped the switch on his steering wheel. Staying low with her hands over her head, Euphemia felt a gust of wind whoosh through the car. Some part of the car had opened up.

BANG!

The next second, there was a loud, low-pitched boom overhead. Zelaide had fired his gun. Euphemia clasped her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to stop her from hearing the subsequent squeal of tires, the sickening thud, the crunch of metal skidding across asphalt, and the agonizing screams muffled by the car’s armor. When she tried to edge up to look at what had happened, Zelaide yelled at her as if he had eyes on the back of his head.

“DON’T LOOK!”

The sense knocked back into her, Euphemia ducked her head below the window again—but not before she glimpsed a motorcycle skidding across the freeway, trailing dust in the rearview mirror. That was all she saw. She had missed the moment where the rider went flying, crashed and tumbled on the road, and was pulverized under a truck driving too fast to avoid them.

One down.

Zelaide had picked up the short-barreled rifle beside the steering wheel and shot through the switch-operated opening in the convertible roof. It was quick work involving little precision aiming. And it had done more than take out the immediate threat. The motorcycle had blown a tire and skidded sideways down the paved road, creating chaos in traffic going both ways and blocking the path ahead for the bikers behind them. This mitigated attack from the right, but in less time than a single breath, three motorcycles caught up to attack from the left.

They’re leavin’ their friend to die?! Zelaide feared who he was dealing with.

The normal vehicles driving ahead of them started turning off the ramps to the last few facilities on the outskirts before there was nothing but Wilds for hours. He raced his car through the space like a bullet. At once, the surrounding cars disappeared from view in one tide. Alas, motorcycles, with their better mobility on the freeway, had the advantage. Zelaide stomped on the accelerator as hard as he could.

“Yumi, I’m swerving sharp to the left. Hold on tight!” Without waiting for her reply, Zelaide cut the wheel hard to the left.

We’re gonna die! Euphemia swallowed a scream as she frantically hung on for dear life against the relentless centrifugal force making the world spiral around her. The nauseating spin ceased in seconds, replaced by jarring vibrations in her seat as the car drove off-road. Zelaide had veered off the freeway into the Wilds.

Bushes and rocks protruded up and down their path. A four-wheel drive was more stable than two-wheel when it came to off-roading in the Wilds, but Zelaide spotted the bikers drawing their guns beside the car before he could change drives.

They started firing away at the car in a barrage of bullets. But using guns with little recoil to maintain balance cost them firepower—the bullets only grazed the armored car’s silver paintjob. The pair was safe for now, but Zelaide didn’t know what other weapons they might be carrying.

TCH! Damn pests!

Without a moment of hesitation, Zelaide drove through a thicket of shrubs with thorns as sharp and long as daggers. The bikers hot on his heels slowed down. Zelaide spun the car around, opened the roof again, and shot one of the motorcycles as he drove by. The vibrations from the bumpy terrain were worse than the paved freeway, throwing his aim off, but the bullet did its job, knocking the rider off balance and sending his motorcycle crashing hard into the deadly thicket.

The sturdy vines wrapped around rider and motorcycle like barbed wire. The biker wouldn’t be moving any time soon.

Two down, two to go.

It was Zelaide’s turn to play chase. Euphemia stayed curled up in a ball in her seat without making a peep since the first time he’d yelled at her to stay down. Sliding back and forth in her seat had undone her tight bun and tousled her hair.

“Don’t worry, Yumi. I have the advantage. Don’t lift your head up yet.”

“Got it!”

Her voice didn’t shake. Zelaide’s lips curved up in a grin.

That’s right. This woman is tough. So tough that she stared down the blade she was about to thrust into her own neck despite nearly being killed.

“Good answer. Can you put up with a lil’ more?”

“Sure can!”

“Perfect!”

The motorcycles ahead of him split to the left and right. Without a second thought, Zelaide cut the wheel toward the biker he identified as the inferior driver.

I’ll finish him off before they can attack us from both sides.

The right biker panicked and shot at the windshield over his shoulder—twice, then three times, creating round cracks in the bulletproof glass from the close proximity. White distorted Zelaide’s surroundings, hindering visibility. The car strayed from its path.

Thinking Zelaide had sustained damage, the rider looked over his shoulder. He didn’t realize he was heading smack into the low branches of the aptly named Hanging Tree.

“This is why you should always watch where you’re drivin’.”

Before Zelaide even finished his snide remark, a thick protruding branch smacked the rider in the back of the head, throwing him off his motorcycle and onto the rocky ground. The branch didn’t send him flying too far, but he laid there immobile.

“Three down, one to go. Now then, how to wipe him out?” Zelaide’s callous planning was interrupted by a roaring noise closing in overhead.

The thump-thump-thump grew louder.

“What now?!”

“Sounds like a helicopter.” Euphemia confirmed the approaching vehicle in the rearview mirror from her seat. “Another enemy? No, that’s…”

Anyone and everyone on this planet could recognize the logo painted in gaudy colors on the side of the heavy-lift tandem rotor helicopter.

“The TV station copter…” she muttered in disbelief.

“To the motorcyclist and car driving below! Stop this meaningless battle right now! All of your actions are being caught on camera by our Renaissance TV cameras. You’re more than welcome to continue your illegal acts of violence in the Wilds, but you do so with the knowledge that we will air what we have caught during our evening news show with zero edits!” announced a charming tenor over the roar of the latest-model helicopter. The voice was easy to make out because of the high-power loudspeaker.

The rugged bikers relentlessly tailing Zelaide scattered in all directions like cockroaches.

They executed a brilliant retreat from the area. Zelaide patiently watched. When he determined they weren’t returning with reinforcements, he parked his car behind a rock outcrop.

Tapping the round dents in the bullet-proof windshield with the tip of his gun, Zelaide opened holes to see the sky. There was no risk of their faces being exposed to the cameras with the car’s shielded windows, but he took the extra precaution of taking his black-tinted specs from his leather jacket’s inner pocket and sliding them on. His mouth was set in a hard line.

“Smart choice.” The alluring tenor changed tones upon seeing Zelaide’s parked car, its threatening quality giving way to mirth. The helicopter descended. Switching into a hover, it maintained its drift for landing.

“That voice… I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere before. Don’t you?” Euphemia commented, remaining in her bent down position since Zelaide hadn’t given the okay. “It’s so attractive it’s actually grating. Where have I heard it?”

“How would I know?” Zelaide said, his response brusque.

“Well, well, would you look at that? Our biker friends are on the run. We took perfect shots of your daredevil stunts, so pop open a bottle of expensive champagne and enjoy your claim to fame on the 7 p.m. news!” the man said over loudspeaker to the fleeing bikers, then turned his attentions to the car.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say the parked silver supercar is the victim here. Though in the end they looked more like the perpetrators, but hey, legitimate self-defense isn’t a crime. Still, I gotta say, that’s one hell of a car you’ve got there. This is why you went and drew the attention of moronic Vermis, you know. I know it’s hard, but you’d do better to try and not stand out too much from the crowd!”

The man took a breath after essentially blaming them for being attacked, and switched topics. “Listen up, people below! This helicopter has some important figures on board. We’re about to land on the empty patch of land up ahead per their instructions, so stay put in your sports car. Oh yeah, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Renaissance TV’s ace producer, Arthur Molina. I’ll be simply honored if you say you’ve heard of me before!”

The helicopter steadily alighted. The roar of its rotors shook the ground, but the man’s clear voice amplified by the microphone easily danced above the thundering noise. His elegant way of bragging overwrote the bloodlust in the air.

Euphemia was surprised to hear him introduce himself as Arthur Molina, the famous nightly news producer. Molina not only worked behind the scenes but appeared on shows as a commentator, spreading his face as widely as his name.

The turn of events did nothing to soften Zelaide’s hard expression or move his finger from the gun trigger.

The heavy-lift helicopter hovered over the flat, empty patch of land ahead, and its skids landed. Dust whipped into the air and scattered. Shortly after touch down, the side hatch opened and men in protective body armor filed out in formation. They looked like Gothic City’s Guardians, the term for special security teams, but there was something acutely off about them. Chances were the TV station had hired this private Guardian team at their own expense.

“It’s probably safe, but don’t get out just in case,” Zelaide told Euphemia, who fortunately had a frame small enough to curl underneath her seat. He slowly opened his door part of the way to hear what they had to say.

A young, skinny man hopped out of the helicopter behind the guards, wearing a jacket bearing the TV station’s logo. He was quite the looker, with his chiseled jawline and his blond hair tied in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He said a few things to the guards and signaled something to the small window behind him, where the cameraman and other staff were likely waiting.

After putting on this little show, the man finally turned toward Zelaide and smiled. “Hi there, buddy. You ran into some bad luck there, huh? But as you can see, I’ve put my identity out there for you. The camera drones are still flying around, but if you’re smart about it, we can cut this segment out. Come on, won’t you put an end to this the easy way and show yourselves? You heard me say there’s an important person on the heli, yeah? He says he wants to talk to you—you guys? Seems to me he knows one of you.” Molina beckoned with his finger behind the heavily armed guards. He was purposely acting in an exaggerated manner to sound out how far he could push Zelaide.

Zelaide glanced down at Euphemia under the seat. “Got any idea who this guy’s friend is?”

“My guess is as good as yours. Molina’s a commentator with a lot of exposure, so I know him from TV, but I don’t know him personally. He said he’s with an important person, right? Maybe an acquaintance of my sister?”

If he is, then it’s especially bad if he goes public with this footage. Euphemia grimaced.

“Dammit, this is gettin’ to be a pain in the ass,” Zelaide cussed. He reluctantly kicked the door open to reveal his head and chest over the door, keeping the gun in his right hand hidden.

Dry winds from the Wilds brushed through his mane of silver hair. Eyes bluer than the sky pierced through the self-proclaimed ace producer.

“Well, I’ll be damned! You’re a very handsome man,” Arthur Molina drawled, fanning his face with his hands in a dramatic fashion. The human man’s antics did nothing to take the edge off the Beast Blood’s intensity. “I bet you’ll just pop on camera. I’m looking forward to checking the footage later. Though I gotta say, while you’ve got a great face, your eyes could scare the hair right off a kitten. And then there’s what you’ve got in that hand of yours. Being cautious is fine and all, but I sure hope you won’t be using that gun! I’m unarmed here.”

Molina tilted his head to the side, seeing right through Zelaide. For all his tomfoolery, he had a keen eye and good instincts.

“So says the man surrounded by armed guards,” Zelaide demurred, raking his eyes across the squad armed to the teeth with the latest body armor and guns.

“Well, I can’t very much show up without them, now can I? Like I said, we’ve got a heavyweight flying with us. Do a man a favor and don’t do anything violent here. I promise we won’t suddenly tip the cops off or anything.”

His earnest request seemed to lack sinister intentions, as his team could overwhelm Zelaide five-to-one if they wanted to. Zelaide wordlessly placed his short-barreled rifle on the driver’s seat and stepped in front of his car door. It went without saying that Zelaide remained cautious; he still had pocket pistols, boot knives, tactical knives, push daggers, his trusty wrist-wire, and other concealed weapons hidden all over his body, invisible to the naked eye.

“Thanks, pal.” Molina smiled. “Sorry for being unreasonable. But dang, you’re big. Tell me, why would anyone be chasing you like a starving dog after a bone? Was it for the car, after all? Or maybe I’m looking at this all wrong and they just have unique tastes? Though I can’t blame them, you’re such a hunk the term ‘Adonis’ should be brought back into use just for you.”

“You talk too much. Quit talking in circles and tell me why you’ve kept us here,” Zelaide demanded, fed up with the news commentator’s jabbering.

“We’ll take over the explanation from here.”

Zelaide narrowed his eyes on the two men in suits stepping out of the helicopter behind Molina. They had to be the “heavyweight” VIPs Molina was going on about. One gentleman was tall and skinny, while the other was on the larger side and heavily built.

The larger of the two walked in front of Zelaide. “You put us in a bad spot if you’re grumpy. Wouldn’t you say we practically saved you both? What a fortunate coincidence that we happened to be flying overhead just as the chase was on! I didn’t have to look twice to tell the bikers were at fault, so I borrowed the power of the media and backed you up.”

“What a relief you were okay…” the skinny gentleman said in a flat voice.

“Who are you people?”

“ACK!” Seconds after Zelaide asked his blunt question, the driver’s door suddenly opened and Euphemia tumbled out. She had been spying on them through the small crack she had opened in Zelaide’s door, when the shock of seeing familiar faces made her lose balance.

“Oi!”

Zelaide caught Euphemia in a magnificent display of explosive force a split-second before she hit the red dust-covered ground. He swiftly hid her behind his back, away from the men’s curious eyes, but she jumped to stop him.

“Whoa! Zel, it’s okay. I know these people.” Euphemia leaned on Zelaide as she found the strength to stand again after being tossed around like a ragdoll during the high-speed car chase.

“Oh! Why if it isn’t—”

“So it was Lady Euphemia, after all!”

“It’s been a while, Mister Ingalls,” Euphemia greeted. “And it’s a pleasure to meet you in person, Mister Haydn.” Both men respectively nodded in greeting.

The man lacking any distinctive features aside from his lean figure and his light-brown hair smoothed back, was Haydn. Compared to him, the redheaded Ingalls was larger in both girth and height. Both gentlemen were in their forties and wore similar dark-colored suits, but the impressions they gave greatly differed. Ingalls’ eyes sparkled with curiosity, while Haydn’s expression was an iron mask.

“I am embarrassed to have you find me in such a predicament.” Euphemia dropped into a curtsy like Erica had taught her a lady of her station should, all the while praying she pulled it off properly. “We were suddenly attacked on my way to work.”

“Oh? How unlucky for you,” Haydn said, his voice monotone and flat. “They looked like a Vermis gang of no-good thugs. They’ve been picking up in activity lately. Your attackers were likely Nightz addicts who were high and out of their mind. None of which is an excuse for them to throw away their lives like that…several did die during your little car chase. All because you didn’t hold back.” Colorless eyes burrowed into Zelaide. His remark still didn’t elicit a reaction.

“It was a thrilling show you put on, all right. You’ve got some guts there,” Ingalls remarked. Contrary to his looks, he had a deep voice that was pleasing to the ears.

“Don’t be too hard on him,” Molina chimed in, smoothly joining their conversation. Molina seemed to find the dynamic between the high-society gentlemen and Zelaide entertaining. “The bikers had high-caliber guns and didn’t hesitate to open fire on his car, so it’ll be counted as legitimate self-defense on his part. If not, we have plenty of proof from our footage and the bullet holes in his car.”

“Who are you?” was all Zelaide said in response. He refused to take their bait.

“O-Oh, let me handle the introductions,” Euphemia interjected, slipping between the men to do something about the strained air hanging over them. “Zel, the taller gentleman there is Mister Ingalls. He’s the director of Gothic City’s Plains and Wilds Development Bureau. I had the opportunity to meet him twice in city hall with my sister. This gentleman over here is Mister Haydn. If I’m not mistaken, he’s the CEO of the First Continental Logistics Company. He’s a famous businessman who does a lot of off-world trading. They’re also both active city council members, and plan to run for mayor during the next election…I believe…”

To put the matter another way, the two men were Erica’s political adversaries.

Realizing her own position as she introduced them, Euphemia couldn’t refrain from trailing off the last bit of her introduction. Holy crap…did I just put myself in another bad spot?

How would footage of the current mayor’s younger sister in a high-speed chase with a biker gang affect Erica’s campaign? Being the victim wouldn’t mean much if the news commentators spun the story differently.

“Um, thank you very much for coming to our aid. As I said before, we were attacked by the biker gang the moment we exited onto the freeway. I honestly have no idea what was going on….”

“So it appears.” Ingalls, the man Euphemia knew personally, responded first. “We started filming about halfway through the act. The kerfuffle looked rather out of control, so I asked Molina here to wire the clip to the police headquarters, Guardian headquarters, and directly to the mayor’s IHT.”

“Pardon me? Are you saying my older sister already knows about this?”

“This chopper here is the TV station’s. Or one could say it actually belongs to Mister Haydn’s company. We happen to be on our way back from campaigning in Romanesque City. Seconds after we sent the video, Mayor Saionji issued us urgent orders to protect the silver car. But never in our wildest dreams had we imagined the mayor’s younger sister would be inside!”

“…Oh, I see,” Euphemia replied politely.

“What in the great colonies is going on here? They must be off their rockers, to even think about targeting the mayor’s sister. How did you get mixed up with such a disturbed crowd? Really, now, please don’t tell me you’ve gotten involved in something messy at the cost of your sister’s reputation,” Ingalls chided.

“Um…I don’t believe that’s the case. I’m in a bit of a complicated situation right now…” Ashamed of being treated like a small child, Euphemia’s cheeks flushed scarlet.

“Thank the stars for your luck. We really chanced upon you in the nick of time, you know. You’ve narrowly escaped death. This isn’t an armored chopper, but it’s equipped with the best cameras on the market—enough to intimidate the worst of fellows. As you saw for yourself, a simple warning over loudspeaker made those Vermis think twice. They’ll be sorry all right, since Molina and his staff were simply licking their chaps at the opportunity to film a real-life car chase. You can expect to see the edited footage airing on the evening news,” Ingalls went on, casting a purposeful sidelong glance at her. Haydn nodded, his expression blank.

“Seriously?!”

Haydn summarized the situation for her. “We’ve reported it to the police, so they should be racing over here in the next few minutes, likely from Forzarin Gate’s station. Don’t look so pale. It would be hard to see what you did as anything other than legitimate self-defense. Granted, the corpses will be dealt with as unidentifiable. Still though, why are you so rash? What careless mistake did you make to catch the attention of such scoundrels? The man with you seems to be a Beast Blood. Is that why?”

His accusation was made in the same dispassionate tone. Haydn was running in the next election as Erica’s opponent, so it was unavoidable that he would leverage any weakness of hers he found.

“Like I told you, I have special circumstances…” Wanting to prove she wasn’t some frivolous rich girl, Euphemia quickly patted down her unruly hair and pushed her specs up the bridge of her nose.

Zelaide was watching the events unravel a slight distance away, apathetic. Haydn’s accusations had reminded Euphemia that both of the men before her opposed the integration of Beast Bloods into society. This was the time to use her position and get them to think more favorably of Beast Bloods like Zelaide.

“From the company you keep, you must have some truly dire circumstances,” Ingalls said dryly.

“Bahaha! Or maybe you were just getting hot n’ heavy with that manly stud of yours? Young women love to have their fun, after all.” Compared to Haydn, who was being surly to the bitter end, Ingalls’ attitude was honestly less offensive than his word choice.

Their attitudes aside, now was the time to clear up any misunderstandings.

“He’s my hired bodyguard. As I mentioned before, I am on my way to work after visiting my sister in the city.”

“So that’s what you were doing. I do believe I recall something about you being employed by an institute on the city outskirts. As I’m sure you’re now well-aware, both inside and outside the city have grown dangerous as of late. Your older sister’s public safety policies seem to have reached their limits these days.”

A fierce glimmer overtook Euphemia’s emerald eyes. “Please bring your complaints directly to my sister.”

“Haha, our apologies. You see, we can’t help ourselves, for we are ever so eagerly awaiting the moment your sister slips up.” Ingalls shrugged with a smile.

“No need for any apologies. I won’t deny my carelessness in regards to several things, but as you can see for yourself, my bodyguard did a remarkable job of protecting me. I am safe right now because of him.”

“…A Beast Blood bodyguard, eh? Mayor Saionji’s thought process is a mystery to me. Isn’t he a double-edged sword to her campaign?” Haydn scoffed, drilling Euphemia with his stone-cold eyes.

Euphemia couldn’t endure this a second longer; she wanted to leave their presence that very instant. She was sure reporting the news to Erica from work wouldn’t pose a problem, since there was little doubt her new friends had long since informed her sister of her safety. Erica would have her hands too full for the day after this to deal with Euphemia.

“Will you be returning to the city now?” Euphemia asked Ingalls, the easier one to converse with of the two.

“Yes. Molina will be hosting a debate between your sister and us tonight—a live debate, on the telly.”

“…I apologize for any inconvenience,” Euphemia started, “but could you be so kind as to not mention any names related to this incident? To be blunt, I don’t want you blowing this up on the air. I understand I’m asking for a lot given that I’m the one involved in this unfortunate round of events, but please, won’t you hold off on making a move until after you understand my situation…?” Euphemia pleaded as politely as she could.

Internally, she felt the weight of the world on her shoulders.

She had essentially armed Erica’s political opponents with ammunition against her image as the mayor safekeeping the city’s peace and order. Police were already on their way here, but victims, unharmed or otherwise, weren’t required by law to stay at the scene when incidents occurred in the Wilds. It would be catastrophic to force them to stay away from the relative safety of the highways and freeways, where there was no guarantee they wouldn’t suffer an attack from another outlaw, or worse, any carnivorous Muta prowling for their next meal.

They knew her identity and she had somewhere to be. Future orders would necessitate Euphemia’s testimony in any case, so it wouldn’t hurt to leave as soon as possible.

“Well sure, the whole thing happened in the Wilds, and we aren’t monsters. We can gloss over the finer details. You’ve left a trail of corpses in your wake, so there’s no getting around handing the authorities the details, but you’re fine and dandy about leaving those things off air, right, Molina?”

“Of course. We’ll go ahead and air it without the incriminating scenes and personal information. It’s disappointing for me as a producer, though. Especially since mister tall, dark, and handsome over there would make for one killer show… But I’ll make do with letting the professionals work their magic with the shots we’ve got,” Arthur Molina teased, winking at Euphemia. When he looked at the Beast Blood behind her, he offered but a shrug—Zelaide was glaring at him with the scariest face yet.

“Then, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I must get to work. While this may sound irresponsible, please direct any further comments or complaints to my older sister,” Euphemia said, her voice coming across weaker than she would have liked.

“You’re going to the office after what you’ve been through? Allow us to return you home to your older sister by helicopter,” Haydn offered. “We won’t make a scene of it. These are the Wilds; traveling by helicopter is far wiser. These series of events must have been a traumatizing experience for a pretty young lady such as yourself. Take the day off. The Beast Blood over there can take care of himself, I’m sure.” He placed a reassuring hand on Euphemia’s shoulder, his icy demeanor softening for the first time. Regardless, his venom for Zelaide didn’t escape her.

Even if Erica was his political opponent, he couldn’t simply leave a young woman in the Wilds without tarnishing his reputation. But Euphemia had no interest in his offer.

“I’ll be fine. I can’t take up my sister’s time more than I already have, and I have business I must attend to today,” she flat-out rejected. Zelaide tugged on her arm from behind, knocking Haydn’s hand off her shoulder.

“I’ll protect her until the end.”

A fierce glint flashed in Haydn’s colorless eyes, but he said nothing. In his stead, Ingalls replied from where he and Molina were inspecting Zelaide’s car.

“All the props in the world to you and your gallant title as a bodyguard, but how do you suppose you’re going to protect her with your car in this state? You can’t see a lick out the windshield.”

“The windshield’s all that’s broken. Autopilot can handle the rest.”

“Well, it’s one hell of a car, all right,” Ingalls conceded.

“…Hmph.” Haydn’s plain face twisted with contempt.

Euphemia rushed into a deep curtsy. “Thank you for your most generous offer. I’m afraid I must attend to some very important research, so I must be on my way. Once again, thank you very much for helping us.”

“Start your helicopter up after we leave,” Zelaide directed coolly. “Else you’ll dirty my car more.” He led Euphemia back into the car with those words in his wake.

Once he confirmed all the men had piled back into the helicopter, he kicked up the engine. The silver car took off at an impossible speed and was soon but a dot on the horizon.

 

“…So that’s what they call a Beast Blood, huh? Pretty impressive stuff,” Ingalls said to Haydn.

“So they say. Mayor Saionji is a troubled woman. How could she let a dangerous man—no, Beast Blood—guard a relative?”

“Fighting one evil with another, perhaps?”

“Ingalls, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. You’d best pick your words more carefully.”

“How am I mistaken?”

“That man is a Beast Blood. He is not human. We merely permit his meaningless existence out of the kindness of our hearts.” Haydn paused. The helicopter rotors began to spin. “He is nothing more than a filthy parasite.”

“I won’t dispute the danger of their existence, but you might be taking it a tad far, there…”

“Hmph… The curtains on Saionji’s reign will close soon. Let us return now.”

The heavy-lift helicopter ascended with an explosive roar. But no matter how they strained their eyes in search of the silver car carrying the wild Beast Blood and beautiful young woman, it was long gone from the Wilds below.