Chapter 112
Chapter 112
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 112
Chapter Title: Oh Bloody, Boom Blada (1)
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***
Ob-la-di ob-la-da / Oh Bloody, Boom Blada.
***
Whiiiing-
Clank!!
Clank clank!
[Warning. Unauthorized access. Disarm and raise your hands above your head-]
"It's me, you idiot! Open the door!"
[N-New master?]
"Whoa~ Corduro! It's only been a little over a week, but it feels like forever!"
[M-Master too! What, you switched cars again?]
Corduro's cheerful voice came through the speaker. Hearing that cheeky tone of his really made it feel like we were finally home.
As the turret lowered with a whir, the door slid open, revealing our dusty, beloved old shelter that we'd missed so much.
"Home sweeeet home!"
"Uwaaaah! Master! Do you know how many days you left the house without a word? I was so worried something bad had happened to you-"
Beeeep-
Height: 176cm.
Voice: Confirmed. Professor.
Iris: Confirmed. Professor.
Build: Mismatch.
Left hand fingerprint: Unreadable.
Mismatch. Mismatch. Mismatch. Mismatch.
"Something baaad haaaappened!!!"
"That's the third time you've pulled that crap."
Shaking his head at the expected reaction, the Professor got out, followed by Ezel chuckling behind him.
Rumble- clunk!
"No one would see that left hand of yours for the first time and not freak out, Professor. Bex, you okay? Not uncomfortable?"
"Grumble grumble... You guys are such drama queens... I can walk just fine without a wheelchair..."
"Tch! A wheelchair's way faster than those stubby legs of yours, so shut up and sit your ass down. They pumped you full of good meds and said you'd recover in time, but right now, you're still messed up. What kind of stubborn bullshit is this-"
"Shoooo! W-Watch your moooouth!"
"Whoops!"
At Bex's sudden outburst, Ian unusually cut himself off and glanced back nervously.
Tap, tap!
Because one more person emerged from the car after the Professor, Ian, Ezel, and Bex.
A ten-year-old girl in a fine dress from the Dome, paired with shiny black shoes.
Looking around anxiously, she clutched her shabby doll tight,
then
pattered over on tiptoe and latched onto the Professor's left leg.
"Guhk!"
"Ugh!"
As the three grown men behind them clutched their chests and collapsed at the rare pure sight in the wasteland,
Beep, beeeep-
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Unauthorized biometric code.
Name: Unknown
Gender: Female
Age: 9-10
Confirmed Extremely unstable state. Fearful. Dependent. Dependency target - Professor.
Checking dependency target statistics for girls this age. Most common relationship. Relationship. Beep. Rechecking. Relationship. Most common male dependency for young girls.
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Tremble, tremble tremble tremble-
"M-Master... N-New master too..."
Corduro's lens shook uncontrollably as it focused on the girl clinging to the Professor's leg.
"N-New lady tooooo!!!!! Uwaaaah-aaaah0011011010110100!!! Ma'am!!! Master did it!!! You were gone just a few days and brought back a new lady! Uwaaaahhhh@#*(@&*([email protected]^9!!!!!"
Dependency relationship: Confirmed as father and daughter.
Corduro's joy circuits were burning bright, ascending to dust.
"Ignore that guy. He's just the house helper, but he's got issues."
"Issues...? Him too?"
"He's not a person, uh... Anyway, think of him as a weirdo. Come on in. You busted out of Parade or whatever, and it's already evening—gotta eat first."
Squeeeak!
"Food! I'll prep it right away! A huge delivery came from the Dome about three days ago! Groceries, utensils, and yeah! Stuff for a kid just around that age too! I thought Master picked up some weird hobby, but this is the real deal!! Clear skies today, perfect for a rare outdoor BBQ! Just wash up and rest—I'll handle everything!"
"Kid clothes, huh... That raccoon bastard knew this was coming."
"The Chief was pretty blatant about it at the cafe."
While Ezel and the Professor muttered seriously,
Corduro perked up at the word "food" and bolted straight inside. As he passed, a door left ajar let out weird song lyrics like "New lady~ so cuuute~"
"Professor. Your place always this nuts?"
"H-Heh, living alone does that. Gotta watch out for depression!"
"Depression? You'll get mania instead."
"Come on in! Wash up and we'll figure it out!"
And so, after eight days, the quiet shelter in Sector 47 buzzed with life as the sun dipped low.
***
Crackle, crackle-
"The kid?"
"Fell asleep. Exhausted."
"Yeah. Poor thing went through hell in one day."
"You hear? First bread she ever ate in her life."
"Not just bread. She teared up seeing the mashed potatoes before the meal. Said her mom always gave her almost all of them when they scavenged potatoes—her dream was sharing two whole ones, one each."
Then the steak, the soft bread—girl's eyes went wide. Bex recalled it and felt his own eyes sting.
"So, Hepburn."
"Hm?"
"Who's the kid?"
Right. When the Professor came back from "coffee with the Chief" dragging along some girl, everyone thought "what the hell?" but held back in case it was something the kid shouldn't hear.
Bex - obsessed with child rights.
Ian - had a dead daughter around that age.
Both weak to little kids like that.
"Cynthia. Cynthia Bartos. Daughter of a wartime buddy."
"Wartime buddy... 14th Special Forces days?"
"Yeah. Long ago, a friend who turned whistleblower against the Enforcers to save me—pissed them off and got killed. Mentioned a daughter once, and today the Chief brought her to our chat. Said she might pique your interest."
Clank, clunk!
Ian looked up from wrestling tangled wires, machine, and battery at the "Special Forces" mention.
"...Her mom?"
"Enforcers kept her alive as an example."
"An example? Of what? A widow struggling after losing her husband?"
"Dirtier than that. They pushed drugs on the mom. Threatened to kill the kid if she refused."
Crackle, crackle crackle
Under the star-strewn night sky, only the trash-built campfire's crackle echoed softly.
"Classic Enforcer tactic. Those bastards always loved their drugs, then and now."
"Then everyone knows the rest? Forced into drugs, it becomes her only joy wandering Underdome alone, supply cuts off one day, and to score more, she does anything..."
"...Good thing the kid's young."
Haaaaah-
At Ian's words, a ground-shaking sigh escaped the Professor.
"The kid knows."
"...What?"
"Cynthia, that little one—she knew everything. Watched her mom start drugs because of her, go mad bit by bit, every single day. Right up to the overdose."
"Son of a bitch-!"
Thwack!
Bex blocked Ian's fist swinging at the table in rage. His other hand pointed at the shelter—worried about waking Cynthia.
"Should've... killed those bastards... ugggh! Too easy..."
"Agreed. Burning them was way too merciful."
Crunch!
Raking his left fingertips over his knuckles out of habit, the Professor drained his glass and held out the empty one.
"After spilling that sob story, Chief said he just wanted me to know."
"Even I can see that, thick as I am. He's laying on debt."
"Yep. Invisible debts like this weigh heavier over time."
"Actually, our Chief gave options. Dome's got a solid adoption system. World full of orphans and grieving parents."
"Cynthia bounced around a few homes... didn't adapt. Barely talks, won't bond. Keeps smashing stuff inside. High-class adoptions mostly, so her behavior got pinned on mom's past—'junkie spawn, what'd you expect?' frame."
"There's orphanages for the rejects... but I vetoed that. I was a problem kid myself—adoptions fell through, grew up in one. Still got a busted eardrum from a bad hit back then."
"Heh heh heh, couldn't say it with the kid around—did all kinds of gestures behind Chief's back. Ralph tried stopping him, no dice."
Damn, bitter world. Everywhere. Everything. Nothing without that sour taste.
"Shame no booze. If not for the Dome mess, could've shopped for some."
"Tell me about it. Professor's name dominated the chants, but hearing mine shocked me. 'Bex! So cool!' Never thought this mug would get that—am I dying soon?"
"Kuhahaha! Community went nuts too. Some 'BDSM Initiate' chat popped up. Flooded Professor's Sector 47 stream room, then fled the 'high-class talk' from regulars. Idiots. Like they know what BDSM even is... Hm? Gaybar, what's that rustling in the corner?"
"Soy Sauce Gaybar! Or Ezel! Keep calling me that crap name?"
"You made it that way."
"Heh heh heh, let's see how long that stiff act lasts!"
Ezel rummaged his small backpack like he'd remembered something, pulling out two long boxes wrapped in fine cloth.
"...Handguns?"
"See what you wanna see. I may be scatterbrained, but visiting ain't coming empty-handed!"
Rustle!
"Not that brainless!"
Unwrapped by the firelight, they gleamed wide bottles.
"...Booze?"
"Heh heh heh heh! Not just any—Dalmore '62! Year 2057, so 115 years old, only 12 bottles made in 1942! King of whiskies—even Artists' Union inquired!"
"How the hell'd you get that monster...?"
"Oh, Chief handed 'em when I said I'm heading to your place. 'Have fun.'"
"Kuhuuugh! That Chief knows gratitude! Tanks, legit salvage claims for combat vehicles! Decent guy! Trustworthy!"
The Professor eyed the shimmering artwork, torn.
'Ugh, all debt. That raccoon knows he'll collect double later—that's why he's so generous. Lobbying with eyes open...'
[So, not drinking? It's a gift.]
'Crazy.'
Despite his mind, his hand had long popped the cap.
Pop!
Clear pop, then robust, heavy aroma overwhelmed them—not undeserved its fame.
"Ancient bouquet..."
"'42? Peak World War II."
"Our four ages combined still ten years shy..."
"Not chug-it booze. Just one round—to toast surviving today."
Nodding solemnly, they clinked glasses, sipped slow, savoring the complex depth.
.
.
.
.
Soon unanimous: one more round.
***
1 hour later.
"Wahahahaha!"
"So this dumbass goes '[Professor yaaaaaa! You killed my friend! Die by my hand before you fully mutate!]' charging with his tiny peashooter!"
"Ahahahaha, m-my stomach hurts! Doc said laughing too hard's bad for docs...!"
"Eeeeek! You laughing?! Bex, you bawled seeing Professor in the ward too! I saw that bloody half-corpse mid-battle!"
"Kuhahahahahaㅋㅋㅋㅋ Heroes? Dome's saviors?ㅋㅋㅋ"
Crash!
"You broke that cup, you pay up, Ezel!"
"Bull. My booze covers smashing every cup and plate here—even if I bail!"
"Can't argue that. More?"
"Lemme see... Second box plainer. Chief said brandy, drunk—forgot..."
"Gimme. O! Cognac. Chief lives well?"
"Gonna be Dome prez in Sector 47—'course. Collects booze hobby. Took me to office, opened cabinet—insane stash."
"Ugh—hope Dome crisis hits again. Next time, snag the whole cabinet."
"Heh heh, recorded that—for blackmail, pin on BDSM. Anyway, Metaljoe? What's that gadget you've been fiddling?"
"What? Metaljoe? You flaming homo flip-flopping. Car audio I yanked. Bored while you and Bex slept, hit Inspection garage. Showed wrecked salvage cars—bodies trashed, audio fine, took this, junk price for rest. Tapes too... Eeeeek!"
Bang!
Ian tossed the audio, fed up—it wouldn't play.
"Battery or wiring? This finicky bastard won't si—"
Static- zzt-
[La la la la! La la la la!]
"...It works?"
"...Fuck?"
Miraculously, the hurled car audio burst into upbeat melody.
"Heh heh heh! Ian, machines fix when hit."
"Knew it—should've bashed it to scrap. Stress relief bonus."
"But... refined taste? Ancient tune? Beatles' Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, right?"
At Professor's question, Ian nodded, ear to the lively rhythm.
"Tried sneaking a listen earlier—this idiot dragged it here."
"Nah, Metaljoe! Good song, share—why solo?"
"...My wife loved it."
Ian's quiet words sank the rowdy mood instantly.
'Damn, didn't mean to kill the vibe.'
Glug glug-
Ian poured fragrant brandy, humming the lyric-laden song of memories.
'ob-la-di ob-la-da. Life goes on, huh...'
"Yeah. Meant to tell you guys someday."
Downing the stiff shot, Ian placed his late wife's heirloom derringer on the desk from his pocket.
"Killed the mood—here's an old tale instead. No thrills, but good drinking story."
Ian gently stroked the worn tiny gun with fingertips, voice weaving a past—distant, maybe not so far.
It began in a rundown house in Braunau am Inn, Austria.
Ian was a poor, filthy, scrawny boy.
***
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