Justice - Dead Man Breathing

Things would always go awry, and Justice fully expected them to. When Faith stuttered words that conveyed nothing, Justice barely paid attention. He was too busy surveying their surroundings, thinking about how the nearby lampposts gave out too weak a glow to reach the distant shadows. The lingering darkness set the conditions for a potential ambush, and one did come.

Motions on one of the roofs. Silhouettes too far away to be identified, but the barrage of continuously fired shots clarified all he needed to know. Multiple shooters. Automatic rifles. But all these muzzle flashes, signals of harm, stirred nothing in him, since he had gone through a much more horrible experience just days earlier.

***

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The heels of the leather shoes tapped against the floor, heralding the arrival of death. Justice trailed behind the being with his eyes downcast, not daring to look directly at even the back of that terrifying person.

His gaze was on the floor for another reason—they were crossing the halls of a hospital. The smell of medicine and bleach was already too much for Justice. He gave his all to keep himself from retching, though even if he let his stomach go wild, probably nothing would come out.

“Nostalgic, isn’t it? This place,” his master commented without turning around.

Out of respect, Justice lifted his head a little, but his gaze kept away from the figure before him, instead aimed obliquely at the pearly white wall. Who would even dare to stare straight at the sun? The navy-blue fabric that could burn the eye. Blonde hair that emulated the corona of a star.

He still had to reply, but all he could squeeze out was a whisper: “A little.”

Nostalgia implies a trace of pleasure mixed with a tint of sadness. But to Justice, he would give anything to forget his stays at this very same hospital. The repetitive tests that dragged on, the gowns and masks that everyone wore, unknown drugs pumping into his veins.

He could always recognize the Grim Reaper. The person who owned his life. The presence that was currently forging the way ahead. His master had visited him often, dangling a cure in front of him, while sending intimidating gifts his way.

“You can use this pair of running shoes to exercise. It looks cool, right?” The pitch-black sneakers were three sizes too small for Justice, and the skulls printed on the sides rendered the footwear more a warning than a gift. He could feel blood gurgling at the back of his throat just thinking about it. Defiantly and dangerously, he had silently thrown them away, but nightmares still assaulted him to this day. Premonitions where the man found out about his betrayal, and pulled the plug on his life.

Justice was certain that even now, the man had this power.

They were nearing a crowd gathering outside a private room, always looking the same. Smiles showing unnaturally white teeth, broad eyes capturing every detail, and always in suits, never something more creative. Justice wondered if his commander wore the same expression, but he was never brave enough to check.

The desperate mob swarmed them, spewing sounds that Justice automatically filtered out. Recording devices, from vintage cameras to modern phones, waved close.

The man deftly held out his hand, a gesture for the congregation to hush. Then, his voice resounded so that even the reporters at the back could hear it. “Thank you for everyone’s concern. I’m giving my thanks for February. He must be so relieved to have so many friends at his side, awaiting his swift recovery. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have to see him. I will take questions afterwards.”

The hunger could never be satiated, and queries still fired away, but at the very least, the crowd allowed the man and Justice to get to the door.

The air inside felt more open, as if they had stepped beyond the threshold into a vast field. Granted a false freedom, this feeling was the sole crutch keeping Justice upright next to the patient’s bed, lest he collapse from the internal turmoil. Regardless, the man wouldn’t care.

Justice’s fate forever rested in the palm of this person, the man named Leon Anders.

“The parasites outside were particularly disgusting today,” Master Anders grumbled to the patient on the bed. Justice caught features that he wished he hadn’t, features that advertised the man’s illness. Shiny baldness. Wrinkles that told a story of aging, their frailty exacerbated by the ugly gown. The medical equipment beeped with cold indifference, a constant reminder of where Justice was, no matter where his gaze escaped to.

He gave in and glanced at the person on the bed. This husk that was barely hanging on to life was February Bell, but the name assigned to this tired face would lose its meaning soon, because judging by that weak smile, the will to fight on had dissipated. It wouldn’t be long until the end, not long at all…

Rampant imagination naturally shifted Justice into February’s place, lying as helplessly with the brain commanding movements that the body couldn’t follow. The hypothetical thoughts drained the color from Justice’s face, while the conversation beside him carried on with no sliver of consideration paid to his distress.

“Leon, where are your manners? You could have greeted me first, before voicing your concerns in a suitable manner.” Even while hovering at the edge of despair, February kept his tone soft and proper. His expression unmoved.

“You think you can afford to lecture me, old man?” Master Anders said, with a hint of uncertainty, which was impossible, so Justice must have misheard it. There wasn’t any chance for an absolute authority to falter.

February broke into a strained chuckle, devolving into a few coughs. “I have to. Before the carcinoma slaughters me first.”

Master Anders shook his head. “Your jokes have never gotten funnier. Do you know that?”

“Humor has never been much of an asset in the business world. Why else would all the billionaires be so unfunny?”

“Of course. Money can’t buy everything.”

“But it buys many things. And one source of stable income would be-”

Master Anders cut February off with the snap of his fingers. “No. No. I know what you’re about to say. Are you throwing me back to those crooks? No.”

“Do you want to beg one of those crooks for money instead? I have to leave the company and my other assets to you. They belong to you anyway. I promised your parents-”

“No. Don’t you bring them up. Stop talking about this.” Master Anders leaned over the bed, his shadow hovering over February, an intimidation tactic, but unfortunately, it was being used against someone with nothing to lose.

“You keep saying no. Then, what do you want me to do? Remove you from my will? You want all your money donated to charity?”

Master Anders stood straight. “I offered you the other path over and over again. You only had to accept it.”

“You’re talking about the immortality nonsense.”

“It isn’t nonsense. You just have to perform a ritual, and…”

“Explain it to me?”

A flash of hope crept onto the master’s face. “Don’t worry. The ritual is very simple. All you have to do is-”

“Hold on a minute. You misunderstood. I was enquiring about the scientific principles behind this ‘immortality’ you have been mentioning.” The complex vocabulary must be taxing to February’s throat. Justice could tell from the coughs sprinkled between words. He had no idea why February still spoke this much, when silence would be a more pleasant option.

“What about the immortal jellyfish? They live forever. What about water bears? They can survive extreme environments.” A sharp irritation built up in Master Anders’s voice, causing Justice to take an instinctive step back.

“Turritopsis dohrnii? Tardigrades? They are not nearly at the level of what you described to me. And until you can give me a good explanation. The answer would forever be no.”

“That’s the problem. You don’t have that forever! Justice, come closer.” His hand flapped at Justice, but his gaze stayed latched onto February.

Justice hurried forward, mindful of his posture, tense with the fear of any slip-up. Master Anders gripped Justice’s shoulder while his other hand waved in an exaggerated gesture, as if he were selling a product. “Do you remember Justice?”

February gave Justice a friendly nod. “I remember all thirty-three of them. How could I not? They are my grandchildren in a way.”

“Just want to be sure you haven’t gone senile.”

“My mind can’t deteriorate before I’m certain that you will be self-sufficient.”

“Okay, I don’t want to hear your dark humor. As I was about to say, if you remember Justice, you should also remember how sickly he was back then.”

The utterance of ‘sickly’ was like a missile striking Justice’s heart, leaving nothing in his mind besides dizziness. In this crisis, he still had to keep himself docile, as cooperative as he could, so that the reaper wouldn’t decide to take away his life.

“Of course, I do. The hospital would contact me for any developments in his condition.”

“Then, you should find it weird that Justice recovered so quickly.” Fingers dug into Justice’s shoulder. The sting by itself wasn’t a big deal, but it was the message it sent that was like a tightening noose around his neck.

Did I do something wrong? Should I say something? What does he want from me? Theories raced through Justice’s mind. His trembling heart didn’t wait for a conclusion, already pumping out a proclamation. “Mister… Mister Bell. I… I… think you should say yes. Please. Master Anders really wants you to say yes.”

The master gave Justice a pat on the back, the approval that was long sought after. “Listen to Justice. He had firsthand experience. He can tell you how real this immortality is.” Justice’s spirit soared, thankful to have brought several more years of his life with his smart choice of words.

“There has been a misunderstanding between us, it seems. I believe that your immortality works. But until I know how it works, I won’t betray science.”

Master Anders took his hand off Justice so that he could slap the bedcover. “It’s immortality. Why do you need to be so picky about this? Even kids know they have to eat veggies that they absolutely hate.”

February shook his head. “Your analogy is invalid. Eating vegetables wouldn’t collapse the rules of the known universe, physics, and plain common sense. Have you considered the implications of this ‘immortality’ to-”

“I have. What else is there to say?”

“Let me finish. You said that you could spread immortality without cost. For free. As long as both parties consent. Do you realize how absurd-”

“It works! What so-called ‘absurdity’ are you talking about?”

“Calm down. This doesn’t have to degenerate into a heated quarrel. Listen to me. Infinite life. No cost. The world doesn’t work like this.”

“I don’t care. I just need you to accept my gift. Just say that you will accept it. Please.” As the master spoke, he slid from standing into crouching. His head stooped to the level of the bedding, and his arms hung from the side handle. Justice followed by kneeling, as he couldn’t possibly keep himself higher than his master.

“Tell me when you decide what to do with your assets.”

With his sinister green eyes, the master glanced at February and quietly stood up. The silence represented full disapproval, as Justice came to understand. The muted atmosphere had always been the master’s scythe, pressed against the necks of mortals. But this time, Justice got a rebellious inkling that coercion might not work on the dying man.

A baffling specimen, handed a chance to live forever but still rejected it. The old man’s blatant refusal stirred up a taboo whiff of envy in Justice. Back then, as he was coughing his guts out, begging his master to save him, the master would only laugh it off, saying, “I need to wait until you become an adult first. Hang in there. I believe in you.”

Immortality had never been free. Yet it was, to February. Only to February. Yet, that dying man had the gall to beg for a price.

These contemplations were sinful temptations, sending him away from his duty. He missed the call of his name. It wasn’t until the master yanked him by the arm that he was ripped from his reverie. The clarity didn’t last long, because the next moment, panic overwhelmed every corner of his body.

“Sorry… sorry…” Muttering was all he could do.

Master Anders didn’t seem to hear him. His attention was wholly glued to February still, even as he led the way to the door.

“When I change the rest of the world, you will have to follow. Whether you like it or not.” And after this one last declaration, the master pushed open the barrier separating him and the horde of deceitful hyenas waiting outside.

He had never once returned to the hospital after that day. Instead, he proposed a new mission. Their whole crew, except for Liberty, would travel to the Soviet city of Osnovav in a private jet to gather supplies. There was more to the plan, but Justice had no interest in the details. He only had to act. That was his purpose. That was the only reason the master decided to save him.

He had to be useful. And that would start with subduing the gangsters attacking them. Once he had traced the attack that interrupted Faith, Justice unsheathed his knife and leaped into action. Meanwhile, his foster siblings were still trudging through confusion. Dazed but unscathed, bullets bounced off their bodies.

It took only half a minute for Justice to storm onto the roof, interrupting the dapper mobsters and their Slavish argument. They all brandished their guns at him without a word, and confident discharges followed a moment later.

Justice was unharmed, naturally, since his life wasn’t theirs to take, and no amount of surprise on the mobsters’ faces would change that. His immortal life and soul belonged to Master Leon Anders—his personal Hades that would keep him forever in shackles, but restraint is always better than death.