act28side

The war's over, Woody. You're free. You can go back to Laterano, to that small house your parents left you, and plant roses in the front porch.

Then, you can find a chapel nearby and paint them on its ceiling, so they can listen to the prayers of every visitor. That way, the sounds will drift you into a peaceful night of slumber.

I found your gun in the warehouse, but... not his. Bring it back with you.

What about you? Where are you headed?

I'll stay here.

In Columbia...? But the war's over.

<i>Your</i> war may be over, Woody, but mine has only just begun.

Woody. Hey, Woody...

Ugh...

Are you alright?

How long have I been out...

Three days.

The kids got pretty tense when they saw me injured, so they went a little overboard. You banged your head on the staircase when they shoved you to the ground, and were out like a light.

Where's Jessica? And the others...?

Don't worry, she's fine. And I've sent someone to escort Helena.

My guess is she'll reach that casino unscathed in half a month. Then she'll launder all the money there before handing it to Sylvia, who's already waiting in the frontier.

...You aren't going to pursue them?

I told you already. I only care about what's in the contract. The higher-ups asked me to tow the plate to the specified location and maintain order on the way.

It doesn't say a thing about what happens off the plate, so I don't care either.

I may be a cold-blooded monster, but even I don't like feeding on the flesh and blood of others.

So what're you gonna do with me?

I have a mansion in southern Columbia. Got a great, big greenhouse. Wonderful place.

You could change your name and enjoy your golden years there. I'll make all the arrangements.

You ever lived there?

Never. But that's what the real estate agent said.

...Thanks for the offer, but if there's one thing I know, it's you never trust a real estate agent.

If you ain't turning me over to the courts, then I'm leaving.

To find your friends?

To find my family.

Your gun's on my desk. The last convoy to the frontier is in half a month.

You could...

You...

Go ahead, take the call.

Would you like some tea, sir? Thank you so much for coming all this way.

Uh, thanks, Miss Brynley. Your family paid a lot of money to hire me, so naturally I'm at your beck and call.

Robbing a bank is a serious crime... It's going to be tough to win this, isn't it?

Depends on what outcome you're hoping for.

If you don't mind prison, we can get you the shortest possible sentence in the most comfortable environment, and once you're released, your record will be clean. No one will even remember.

We do this all the time. It's nothing difficult, so long as you can afford it.

Okay. What else?

Of course, not a lot of people enjoy the sights of a prison cell. We have an alternate plan for you. You could stay home under house arrest, or even go on vacation at some villa with a great view.

Under supervision, of course.

Would that be difficult for you?

Yes, but not especially so.

If you don't want to spend a day in prison, and would rather go back to a normal life right away, like nothing ever happened... That would be quite difficult, but not impossible.

...In Columbia, aren't most criminals sent to the frontier instead of prison?

Don't worry, Miss Brynley. With us on the case, things won't get nearly that dire.

No... I'm saying that's what I want.

What?

I should be out there. I broke the law, and that's the price I should pay.

And you expect me to tell that to your father? Personally speaking, that's probably the most difficult thing you could ask of me.

No... the most difficult thing would be to try and stop me.

Because that's outright impossible.

You're... pretty determined.

You're right, I am. More than I've ever been.

Not taking the call?

I've never told anyone, but I hate phone calls. Loathe them.

I can tell. With that frown, you could hold a piece of paper between your eyebrows.

Is it that obvious?

Yeah...

But yes, every time my phone rings, I have to suppress the urge to draw my gun and shoot the damn thing.

I've thought about it so, so many times, but every time I've managed to swallow it and answer.

It's just a phone...

Try spending two months with it on the battlefield. It changes everything.

You're on call from sundown to sunup. When you pick it up and the voice says, 'attack,' you've no choice but to obey and send your men charging into enemy lines.

Then, you fight from sunup to sundown. You bring back everyone you have left, but before you even have time to catch a breather, the phone rings again.

The voice says, 'hold the line,' and you have to send everyone back to the frontlines to keep fighting a never-ending battle.

Let's part ways here, Woody. If I lost my right to give a eulogy at your funeral years ago, then I hope you'll at least hear out my last request.

I'm listening.

Don't die in someplace I've never even heard of.

...Fine. I have some parting words for you, too.

Yeah?

If you can't go back to how things were, you can at least hang up and call back later. Don't let them force you to keep your eye on it.

I hope you'll always remember this phone call.

He picks up the phone on the desk and punches in a few numbers

Is this the president of the bank? Hello, sir. I was a little busy, and couldn't answer your call.

Right, we ran into some trouble during the towing. I understand your frustration, but to me, as long as the plate reaches its destination, the mission will be a success.

Everything else is a sideshow. No one's going to care.

Right, I understand. The money is very important to you.

I get that business has been on the rise, and the people from Trimounts could help you climb even higher. And now that the money's gone, my guess is they won't just let you off the hook.

Of course, I also realize you aren't worried about <i>them</i>. You're worried about the higher-ups, who are even harder to deal with and can truly decide your fate.

Yes, I understand. I understand all that.

So, what do you say I help you fill in the hole? It's no small sum, but nothing I can't afford.

In return, perhaps you could help me with a small favor.

I have a few documents that I'd like you to sign for me. Under the table, as it were.

Someone's knocking on your door? Perfect, sounds like my mercs have arrived with the papers.

Haha... You're afraid to sign?

But think of our partnership. This is a win-win.

I'll give you another call in half an hour. I hope you'll have made your decision by then. Talk to you later.

Come in.

Sir, the money is ready. We're just waiting for the bank's decision.

But I must say... Taking over that platform in Bolívar took a whole lot less work than this one.

Well, that's Bolívar.

Bolívar doesn't have cutting edge scientists, nor any tech companies jostling for control of all the abandoned plates they can get.

Not to mention the favorable prices for plates and ownership transfer procedures they have there.

They wouldn't mind getting on our good side, after all.

Alright. No more complaining about things not going to plan.

If peace is a string, then the tighter it's stretched, the more the ones holding the ends will want a knife to cut it with. But as soon as it's cut, you either get rid of the knife immediately, or hold onto it forever.

We've been stretched too tight for too long, by someone much stronger than Bolívar.

Who knows how many more Davistowns we'll have to handle? I'd rather get the big guy to loosen his grip. Or even show him how much it hurts when the string snaps.