8: Questions and Lackluster Answers

"Long time no see, Bates," Zero approaches the hooded figure in the neon-lit alley.

The figure turns to face Zero. The shadows obscure their features as they reply in a deep, rugged accent, "Aye, Zero. It's been ages."

Zero nods blank-faced as he studies Bates, taking note of his sidearm, and scanning his surroundings for possible ambushes.

"I've been meaning to catch up," Zero continues, choosing his words carefully. "But it seems you've been keeping… busy."

Bates offers a nonchalant shrug. The hood of his cloak barely hides a multitude of scars. He likes showing them off subtly.

"Just doing what I do best, mate. Keeping the streets interesting, y’ know?" His booming voice sounds like a muted trumpet.

Zero's eyes narrow slightly. A flicker of disbelief crosses his features as he considers Bates' words. There is an unspoken intensity in the air—a sense that their meeting is anything but a trip to the coffee store.

"I've heard whispers," Zero speaks, low and intense. "Rumors of your handiwork popping up all over the city. Care to enlighten me?"

Bates chuckles darkly. Its sound echoes off the alley's walls as he replies, "Ah, you know how it is, mate. Business as usual. Just a few jobs here and there to keep the coffers full." He pats his stomach with a grin.

Zero's gaze remains fixed on Bates, frustrated that his reply only raises more suspicions. There is more to this than meets the eye. Frustrating, ain't it, Zero?

"Cut the bullshit," Zero says coldly. "I know you're mixed up in something big. Something that's got CORE's prints all over it. What do you know?"

Bates meets Zero's gaze with a glint in their eyes. Silence passes between them as they exchange a tense stare.

The gunman suddenly breaks their gaze to peer at the distant glittering cityscape. "The more you try to rebuild that bridge, the more it stays broken. You, of all people, should know that well."

"Bates," Zero calls him back to his question.

"You're not the only one with questions, Zero," Bates answers. "We all do. In some shape or some form. But some things are better left unsaid—for now, at least."

A small gust of wind blows in Bate’s frizzled beard. And he finds his neck strangled by the shadow.

"I won’t ask it twice, Bates," Zero's grip tightens on Bates' collar, "What is CORE planning?"

Bates does not react—he just keeps staring at Zero. His facial muscles scrunch in disgust. His mouth rests limply on his grizzly face. He does not so much as utter a sound, which angers Zero even more. He once saw a spark in those eyes. It was a most rare, most delightful light. The light that was thought never to extinguish is now asking him for guidance, for answers. Bates lowers his eyes and breathes out slowly. His fingers start twitching. As it is with any light, there is a point when it becomes too blinding to look at.

Their eyes had met when they were green and full of sheens. Now what are in those eyes of yours, Bates? Your frail, faded green eyes?

"You're not half the man I used to know anymore, Zero," Bates says slowly. "Yer grip ain't worth my time."

Bates grabs Zero's arm, pulls him in, and nails him in the stomach. Just as Zero is taken off guard, Bates winds up and jump-kicks him, sending the assassin to the wall.

"CORE's got its stubby fingers in a lot of pies, mate. And let me tell ya, it ain't pretty."

Zero backsteps away from the wall and begins unsheathing. He takes on a charging stance toward Bates and speaks in a low growl.

"I'm not interested in your 'pies,' Bates. I want answers. Now."

"Use honorifics. I'm your elder."

Bates meets Zero's gaze with a steady stare. A spicy yet delightful aroma flies by his nose, soaring from the streets outside the alleyway. Outside, shadows of people zoom past the alley, oblivious to the blood that is about to shed. The sizzling of pans, combined with the pungent smell of fried food and the piercing fragrance of curry, makes for a suffocating and heat-filled atmosphere. Sewer rats stream along the pipes and broken fans, squeaking and hunting to keep their bellies buttered. Beads of oil mixed with rainwater drips from the rust-infested pipes, splattering on Bates' neck. He wipes it off instinctively, eyes dead set on the swordsman.

Bates cannot see it. He cannot see Zero. Even for as long as he has lived, that man's speed will forever be a mystery to him. He cannot see it. But what he can see right now, well, he is not sure if he wants to witness it. Dark veins pop out from the edges of his hands as Zero grips his blade. He has no doubt Bates will fall. Bates has no doubt he will fall.

Shing.

Zero dives to the end of the alley, then immediately spins around to see if he has succeeded. His blade felt strangely light as he pierced through Bates, and if his instincts serve him right, then...

He looks at the well-built man whose back is toward him. There he is, Bates, standing just slightly off to the side. Zero stops breathing, rooted in his tracks. The clock seems to freeze as Bates slowly turns around.

Bates sighs. Hard. This was not the blade he wanted to feel.

"Yer fast. But the thing about being too fast is that you can't stop to really see the lil' things," Bates adjusts his cloak and wipes off the dust off his sleeves.

"H-How?" Zero stutters.

"Check your back."

Zero spins around and touches his back. Something metallic juts out from the bottom.

"5 kilos of explosive. Strapped to your back with the stickiest chemical I could get my hands on. I press this," he holds up a small detonator. "Boom."

He starts strolling over to Zero and leans face-to-face with him. "Don't. Move. An inch. Mate... "

Bates tilts his head. "Capiche?"

Zero returns Bates' warning with a glare.

"Still got that attitude, aye?" Bates smirks. "Fine. Fine. I'll give ya what ya came all this way for."

Silence from Zero.

" 'Ight," Bates continues. "But you ain't hearin' it from me. CORE's planning something big—a power play that's gonna shake the very foundations of this city. They've got their sights set on a target, and they'll stop at nothing. Nothing. To see it through."

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Zero's eyes narrow at the revelation as he considers the implications of Bates' words.

"What TARGET?" Zero demands, slamming his hand onto the ground. The impact shatters the concrete like glass.

Bates stops for a second. He blinks repeatedly and rubs his eyes. His fingers still twitch, but he stopped caring about them long ago. The man before him is desperately throwing away his dignity for something so seemingly trivial. Bates never thought hard about it before—how utterly impossible it was to break the unbreakable Zero. Today, here he stands.

Then, another thought comes to Bates. This one happens to be a shining light bulb.

"It's him, ain't it, Zero?" Bates stares.

"..."

"What? Losin' yer tongue now?" Bates groans. "Aaaaagh... Yer gonna be losing a lot more if you keep wielding that sword like a damn club! Get yer shit together, you fuckin' wanker."

Bates takes out a cig and starts walking away, leaving a frozen Zero in disarray. "Th-That's it?" He manages to utter.

"Yeah, dickhead! That's all. Now go get yourself somethin' to chew. The noodle here would do some good to that fucked up head of yours. Now bugger off!"

Bates suddenly turns back. "Oh, and in case you're wondering. That bomb's a dud."

Zero is taken aback. He reaches behind his jacket and pulls the sticky piece of metal off his back. It was just a rusty copper sheet glued onto his back.

"And one last thing, Zero," Bates takes the detonator out of his pocket and throws it into the trash can near Zero.

"Fix that rotten attitude of yours, for Jimmy's sake. You ain't never gettin' laid, mate."

He turns and walks into the glimmering light, leaving the shadow alone in the dark.

***

Notorious Gunman. Goes by the alias 'Bates.' Document his file.

Name: [First Name Unknown] Bates

Alias: The Boogeyman

Age: Unknown

Height: 5’7”

Weight: Unknown

Eye Color: Unknown

Hair Color: Ginger

Background:

Information regarding this assassin is currently limited. He is known only by the alias "Bates." However, rumors and whispers in the criminal underworld paint a picture of a ruthless and highly skilled bounty hunter with a penchant for violence and mayhem, a.k.a "The Boogeyman."

Bates has garnered a fearsome reputation as a hired gun, specializing in contract killings, bounty collecting, and other illicit activities. His methods are characterized by a cold and calculated efficiency, with little regard for collateral damage or moral considerations.

Bates has managed to evade capture by Australian law enforcement agencies, operating in and outside the country, leaving little trace of his movements. His connections within the criminal underworld run deep, with rumors suggesting ties to various organized crime syndicates in [REDACTED] city.

Of particular interest is Bates' possible connection to Zero, the swordsman assassin and the biggest threat to national security—second only to Vincent Lacroix. While concrete evidence linking the two remains ambiguous, whispers among informants and underworld contacts suggest a past alliance between the two enigmatic figures.

Whether Bates and Zero share a common agenda or are simply aware of each other's existence remains a mystery; their respective reputations as dangerous individuals have placed them firmly on the radar of law enforcement agencies worldwide.

Modus Operandi:

Bates' modus operandi is characterized by precision, brutality, and ruthless efficiency that sets him apart from other criminals. He is known for his proficiency with firearms and explosives, favoring high-powered cybernetically enhanced weapons and tactical expertise to dispatch his targets with lethal precision.

However, it is important to note that because of Bates' fearsome name, criminals and even certain syndicates have quit and disbanded, so while his ways are, at times, less than acceptable, law reinforcement agencies have tolerated his activities. But only to a certain degree.

Please exercise caution. Innocent lives are not for granted.

End of File.

***

As the first light of dawn filters through the skyscrapers of the foreign city, Hong Kong, casting long shadows across the deserted streets, Zero cannot help but feel weirdly alienated from his home city.

"So this... is the City of a Thousand Floors... " Zero cannot help but fall open in a gape at the sight of millions of micro-apartments, all tightly knit together like a beehive.

But he quickly shakes the amazement away and returns to the task at hand. He sprints and leaps through the old alleyways and rooftops of the city. His senses remain keen, alert to any signs of danger as he navigates the urban landscape.

With Bates’ info about CORE's activities in the area, Zero knows he must move fast, or risk losing leads. CORE's presence looms like a specter over the city. Its influence feels like it can crush Zero at any moment, engulfing him deep inside the beehive, among the concrete cubicles.

Zero hops down from a five-story building, light as a feather. He has reached his destination—a nondescript warehouse tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city. Zero pauses, sweeping the surroundings for any signs of surveillance or security. Satisfied that he remains undetected, he slips inside the building, moving swiftly and silently as he ascends the stairwell to the upper floors.

The air is thick with the scent of mold and dust. With each passing moment, the mold in the air grows unbearable. There is no telling what horror lurks beyond the shadows.

As he reaches the top floor, Zero pauses, his senses on high alert as he listens for any signs of activity. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant hum of the city waking up to another day. He presses forward, reaching for the door at the end of the hallway. With a creak of hinges, the door swings open, revealing a room bathed in the soft glow of morning light filtering through the windows. Inside, rows of empty crates and containers line the walls. Whoever was here has already cleared out their stocks, Zero deducts. His eyes set upon a large door, featuring an old lock mechanism that requires a specific key. Zero examines the space around him cautiously. His intuition tells him that whatever is behind this door may be related to the rumored CORE's base of operations.

With one swift slash, Zero cuts the lock open and pulls the handlebar, but the door does not budge. He tries kicking it. It does not move. Zero takes one more look at the fortified door, then back to his katana. As much as he wants to brute force the door down, he also dislikes chipping his blade. He starts running around the facility, rummaging for a vent or an opening. Sprinting through what seems like the lobby, he comes across a colossal fan in the wall. If intuitions serve him right, that fan should lead him to behind the door. Without a wasting single second more, he charges right in.

The vent is full of rats scurrying about, and the dust is thick with decay. Algaes and unusual growths sprout from every crack and crevice. A stinging odor wafts from the fungus, but Zero simply holds his nose and rushes through. He charges left. He charges right. Then he almost hit his head on a pipe while lunging right. Thrusting through, slashing past, neon blade.

His heart quickens as he falls through a vent hole, straight into a pile of boxes. He quickly stands up and scans the surroundings. The afternoon light shines through a giant window encompassing the storeroom. Dust particles float in the heavenly light like angels. There is the door, alright, and this looks like its inside contents. Zero starts sifting through the room's contents—his eyes alighting upon a set of blueprints. Anticipation rises as Zero carefully unfolds the aged paper, scanning the intricate lines and markings etched upon its surface. The blueprints reveal a detailed layout of tunnels and rooms, complete with annotations and labels indicating various rooms, corridors, and structural elements. As Zero studies the plans, a sense of relief washes over him as he completes the puzzle before him piece by piece.

The pieces begin to fall into place—the hidden passages, the concealed compartments, the elaborate security measures designed to protect CORE's secrets from prying eyes. The blueprints are roadmaps to the heart of the organization. Then, just as he is done reading, his pulse quickens at the mention of a familiar location.

Armed with this newfound knowledge, Zero knows that he has completed most of the puzzle. This can and will lead him closer to uncovering CORE's true intention.

Eyes glinting, he carefully folds the blueprints and tucks them away. But just as he grips the paper, Zero slightly trembles. He crumples to the floor, clutching his shaking hand. His vision begins ripping apart across the light, twisting and ceasing to stay whole. Losing balance, Zero forcefully bends his twitching hand backward. The hand falls limp to his side, sending waves of excruciating pain to his mind. He quickly bites his tongue to divert the painful sensation. It hurts like hell. Zero can do nothing but breathe steadily and fight for control, gripping his blade and using it to prop himself upward. But before he can stand properly, a distant ringing rudely invites itself into his ears. Swirls of thoughts appear, and for every shake of the head to make them leave, the nausea multiplies. The breathing turns into sharp gasps. It hurts to breathe so much that Zero has to hold his nose and ventilate through the mouth. He has tried to keep it off his mind, but it keeps coming back. Unidentified sound waves penetrate his ears mercilessly, and Zero drops to the cold, unyielding floor. Visions of light swim around his retina, burning the iris.

Hours pass by, and eventually, darkness claims its place. In its embrace, Zero can finally breathe again. He slowly places his left arm against the wall and sluggishly heaves his body forward. Zero has to keep moving forward, no matter what.

He is waiting.

***