Baccano! - Volume 8 - Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1: FRONT

LET’S GO TO PRISON

Once, the island had been a fortress.

It was small, with an area of about half a square mile, and it sat just off the coast of San Francisco Bay.

Most of the island was bare rock, and its coast was made of steep cliffs all the way around. At the top were rough buildings made of concrete.

The island’s name, Alcatraz, came from a word for pelican, but the atmosphere that hung over it was solemn and didn’t suit the name.

Long ago, the place had been completely wild, but during the Gold Rush, construction had begun on a fort meant to protect the town of San Francisco. It was subsequently strengthened during the Civil War, ultimately becoming a maritime fort equipped with a total of 111 long cannons and Rodman guns, which were cutting-edge technology at the time.

Since the Civil War, Alcatraz Island had been used to detain military criminals.

Even after its role as a fortress ended, the island’s buildings were used to jail soldiers who had committed crimes, war criminals, and Native Americans who’d been captured during internal disputes.

The fortress that had been built to guard against external enemies became a facility to keep others from escaping. By the beginning of the twentieth century, the island was a full-fledged military prison.

In 1933, the prison on Alcatraz Island passed from the military into the hands of the Department of Justice and was reborn as the nation’s strongest federal penitentiary.

Escape-proof.

That simple, powerful catchphrase made criminals shudder, and at the same time, it gave the world new creativity. A place that was in the world yet completely isolated from its laws.

For many long years, the prison would be at the center of a variety of movies, depicted in many different ways.

But the Alcatraz Island of people’s fantasies drew notice throughout America with one absolute certainty: the word escape-proof.

As if to strike an additional chord in its symphony of infamy, in August of this year, Al Capone—a man made more colorful by fear, dread, and a kind of adoration from all across the country—was incarcerated there. Thus, the legend of the prison continued to dominate San Francisco Bay, passively accepting embellishment.

And on one particular day, another boat set sail for the island.

It carried many types of despair and a few ambitions as it sailed under blue skies toward an island that made for a beautiful view.

One day in December 1934San Francisco BayPrison boat

“…This is the pits.”

“Quiet.”

Firo had murmured to himself, and the expressionless guard muttered back.

Once he was on the boat, like it or not, he was forced to acknowledge where he was.

He was headed for a place buzzing with rumors like something out of a run-of-the-mill adventure story: not only “It’s impregnable” and “No one can escape” but also “Every guy they put in there goes crazy” and “They do military experiments on the prisoners.”

When he’d heard those rumors, Firo had always laughed them off as baloney, but once he was actually standing on the wharf and seeing the island rising from the bay, the rumors resurfaced in his mind.

It wasn’t because the place looked creepy. It was the opposite, in fact.

From the sunny wharf, the prison on Alcatraz Island towered on top of its natural cliffs. Around it, there were several other buildings that seemed to be facilities of some sort.

The natural hues of the cliffs and the man-made colors of the facilities harmonized perfectly with one another, and between the blue of the sky and the blue of the sea, it looked like an artist’s painting.

For that very reason, the place was like something out of a dream, and it seemed as though anything could happen there.

Firo could hardly escape that feeling.

After all, he was already living in the fairy-tale world of immortality. When he looked at that island from where he was, he would have even believed a rumor that a dragon slept on Alcatraz.

All the more so since he was bound for that island himself.

This is the pits.

As the boat pitched and tossed violently, Firo silently murmured the words to himself again.

The vessel wasn’t moving all that fast. Even so, it rolled irregularly, forward and backward, left and right. The rumors about the strong currents in this part of the ocean seemed to be true.

If it came down to it, could I steel myself to take a few bullets, jump into the ocean, and escape that way?

Because of his immortal body, the idea had crossed his mind briefly… But what if he was unconscious when he hit those currents, sank to the bottom of the ocean, and never came up again? It wouldn’t be at all odd for things to play out that way. The distance seemed swimmable, but in fact, the prison was separated from the outside world by a wall that was far thicker than distance.

Why the hell did I have to come here?

Remembering the men from the Bureau of Investigation with an expression of clear loathing, Firo thought over the events that had brought him to his current situation.

One week ago

“Ha! I bet you’re happy, huh?! I leveraged all my authority to get you special treatment. Nobody who’s jailed goes directly into Alcatraz, generally. It’s where the troublemakers from other prisons end up. Thanks to my snazzy arrangements, though, you’ve got an express ticket, no transfers. Just this once, I’ll make an exception and let even a petty gangster like you be grateful to me.”

“No, no, wait, hang on. Hold the phone. Just—hold it.”

In the interrogation room, Firo waved his cuffed hands.

“I’ll split what I wanna say into three pieces and say ’em real slow so that even your ridiculous mind will understand. One: Why. Two: Do I. Three: Have to go there?”

Firo’s words had been the result of an extremely natural train of thought, and Victor answered promptly.

“Bragging rights.”

“Huh?”

“Just coming back from Alcatraz is enough to boost your rep. In our world, previous offenses are cause for pure humiliation, but they’re practically a medal to you people.”

“…That depends on the time and place. As far as I’m concerned, getting threatened and shoved into jail without so much as a trial is definitely an embarrassment, and it’s an embarrassment for my family, too.”

Firo was gradually beginning to sharpen the blade of his emotions, but Victor shrugged his words off with an easy smile.

“Then what about getting popular in prison? With that girly baby face of yours, you’ll be a favorite there in no time. That said, that place has a warden who’s worth his salt. To set a good example, he takes real good care of things to ensure that none of that stuff goes on, so relax.”

“…Edward? Mind if I kill this guy?”

“Sorry. He’s immortal, so you can’t.”

Victor was cackling, and Firo was so irritated he could hardly stand it. Before, at this point, he’d probably have jumped him without giving it a second thought. He would have had the other guy’s head pinned down with his right hand, would have made him beg for his life.

At that thought, Firo suddenly began thinking about who he was now.

“Before,” huh?

It was true that he was softer than he used to be.

Before he’d joined the Camorra, the only people he’d trusted enough to open up to had been the three Gandor brothers and Claire Stanfield, childhood friends who were practically family.

Then one day, a Japanese immigrant named Yaguruma had knocked him flat. That was when he’d encountered the organization known as the Martillo Family.

The syndicate had been part of a web of gangs known as the Camorra, and to Firo, it had become where he felt truly comfortable. At the time, he hadn’t bothered to hide his hostility toward the world, but before he knew it, that place seemed to have broken the thorns off his heart.

And he’d mellowed out completely when—

When I met Ennis, or maybe Isaac and Miria.

You couldn’t call them honest citizens, but you couldn’t state categorically that they belonged to the underworld, either. He considered them family, and he was smiling wryly at the memory of their faces, when Victor abruptly brought up a strange subject.

“This is a plea bargain.”

“Hunh?”

“Remember that Ennis doll we were talking about earlier?”

“…What about her?”

He’d just been thinking about her, and the mention of her name made his heart speed up.

“That woman ate an alchemist once. You knew that, right?”

“……”

It did ring a bell.

He’d heard about it from Ennis, and inside him, Szilard’s memories also confirmed that it was true.

Once, back when Ennis was just an emotionless tool, she’d eaten an alchemist who’d come to eat Szilard.

However, as a result, all sorts of knowledge had flooded into her. It had given her emotions, guilt, and endless regret. It had also made her who she was today.

By now, he’d completely forgotten about it, but it was possible that Ennis herself was still plagued by guilt.

What was this guy trying to pull, poking at an old wound like that?

As Firo glared at him, Victor spoke, lowering his eyes slightly.

“That alchemist was a good friend of mine.”

“……”

Firo looked away in spite of himself, accepting the weight of that statement. At the same time, a new doubt surfaced, and it was out of his mouth before he could think.

“So, what, you’re planning to avenge him by killing Ennis?”

There was clear tension and determination in his voice.

Depending on the answer, he’d let the rage he’d swallowed blaze up again, and this time he was probably prepared to eat the man in front of him.

Firo waited quietly for the man’s next words, calming his breathing so that he’d be ready to leap immediately.

Fielding that question, Victor gestured as if he was thinking about something for a little while. Then he responded slowly, choosing his words as he went.

“I don’t wanna do that, either. If I thought it would solve everything, I would have eaten you back there, and Huey, too, ages ago… I don’t plan to imitate Szilard, the old bastard.”

“…I see.”

“That doesn’t mean I’ve got nothing against a broad who ate my friend, though. I get she was Szilard’s puppet at the time, but I’m not at peace with it—plus, it’s possible to pin suspicion for other murders on her, too.”

“…What?”

Firo was scowling, and Victor responded quietly.

“Immortals aren’t the only ones she killed on the old geezer’s orders. As proof, several skeletons turned up in one of Szilard’s old hideouts. We dunno who killed them, but it might have been her, and if so— Well, what do you think we’d have to do to bring a broad who doesn’t officially exist to trial?”

“You asshole…”

Victor was smiling nastily, and Firo’s reply was filled with loathing as he ground his teeth.

Victor watched him, as if enjoying the show, then calmly hit him with a “solution.”

“So on that note: Ennis’s current master—her main body—is you. As a result, I’m offering you a plea bargain.”

“…You’re what?”

“I’m saying, if you do the job we tell you to do…we’ll treat that Ennis broad’s crimes as ‘unsolved.’”

“For someone throwing around insults like ‘dirty’ and ‘low-life scum,’ that’s a pretty cheap move.”

Firo had put everything he had into that counterattack, but Victor shut him down with a high-pressure look.

“Hey, I’m not telling you to sell out your buddies or anything. I just want you to check into the activities of a guy who could turn out to be our…common enemy, that’s all. I’ll fill you in on the details after you say you’ll take the job.”

“…You hate gangsters. What guarantee do I have that you’ll keep a promise made to one of us?”

“I’ll swear it. Swearing’s all I can do. Whether you believe it or not.”

Then, for the first time, Victor’s smile vanished, and he leaned in closer to the other immortal.

Even if he was handcuffed, if he’d put out his right hand, he could have touched him easily.

But Firo couldn’t move.

In the family he belonged to, the upper-level executives—Maiza, Ronny, Yaguruma, and the boss, Molsa Martillo—sometimes radiated intimidation. This was a lot like that.

Firo had just about put his anger away, and when he was confronted with that intimidating aura, which was supported by long years of practice and experience, he was unable to move.

He’d broken out in a thin sheen of cold sweat, and the agent who’d lived for more than two centuries hit him with a single, corrupt comment.

“I’ll hush up Ennis’s business for you.

“I swear it, on all the justice in this country.”

After thinking it over for three days or so, Firo chose to accept the proposal.

He was irritated with himself for not being able to make an immediate decision for Ennis’s sake, but he’d thought that, while he let those three days go by, someone from his family might take action for him.

However, in the end, during those days, the situation hadn’t changed at all.

The Bureau goons were probably being very careful and acting in isolation within a department that was independent to begin with.

It felt as if Ronny—who was sometimes abnormally competent—might do something about this, but it wasn’t in Firo’s nature to cling to a hope like that.

Even now, with every single moment that passed, he was making his family and Ennis worry.

Even though this isn’t the time for that.

Finally, in order to break out of the situation on his own, Firo had accepted Victor’s proposal—

And so, he now found himself on a boat.

However, he wasn’t muttering This is the pits over and over, because he was cursing himself for folding to Victor.

“Monitor Huey Laforet.”

That was the mission the Bureau had given Firo.

If he called it a mission, it was likely that people would think he’d sunk to being the Fed’s loyal hound dog, which was humiliating all on its own. His position was certainly no better than a government dog’s—but it wasn’t as though Firo had no personal interest in this man.

In an incident one year ago, a mysterious group called Lamia had messed with Ennis.

They’d called her their little sister and named Huey Laforet as the alchemist who’d created them.

The man had been on Firo’s mind ever since.

Even in Szilard’s memories, he was constantly shrouded in mystery. Only one person, an eccentric named Elmer C. Albatross, had been close to him; apart from that, the memories held almost nothing. Unlike Victor, with whom he simply hadn’t interacted, it felt as though this man had intentionally behaved such that he wouldn’t be remembered.

Firo didn’t much like going into Szilard’s memories, and he gave up searching further, choosing to simply go into his encounter with Huey as himself.

“C’mon, the guy’s in jail. He can’t have any dirt on you. You’ll have way more intel than he does. You’ve got the advantage; believe in yourself.

“There’s a guard who’s in on this. He’s supposed to make like he’s taking you to your cell, but then he’ll either take you to Huey Laforet or fill you in on the details of the situation.”

That was what Victor had said to him at the end. It could have been taken as encouragement. He was a nasty guy, and he couldn’t be trusted, but that comment had naturally raised Firo’s morale.

As a result, he’d gone into this all-too-short voyage in fairly high spirits, but—

—when they were just about to board the police boat, one of the guards had murmured in Firo’s ear:

“We’ve been waiting for you, Mr. Firo Prochainezo.”

“Oh, so you’re…”

…the guy with the Bureau of Investigation?

Firo was just about to ask the question, when the guard cut him off, speaking indifferently.

“Master Huey is eagerly awaiting you.”

Firo shuddered.

The moment he heard that flat voice, he broke into a cold sweat all over his body.

“He says that he will be terribly happy to have a fellow immortal so near…”

“…Hey…”

“From this point on, there will be no talking.”

The second Firo spoke to him, the man went back to being an ordinary guard.

It felt as if he’d been daydreaming for a moment; the sudden change in the guard seemed to imply that nothing had happened at all. It was as Firo were being compelled not to question the recent situation.

What was that about him not having any dirt on me? That lousy excuse for an agent…

Thus, on the boat, Firo was repeating the same words again and again.

A single phrase that described his current situation with blistering accuracy.

Over and over.

In his mouth. In his heart:

“This is the pits…”