Men Who Laugh

Vincent walked through the underground corridor with a large case slung over his shoulder. Beside him moved a shorter man wearing dark cropped pants, a red sweater, and sandals. Yellow light bulbs dangled from the ceiling, swaying slightly. From behind the doors lining the hallway came muffled crying and screaming.

“When my cousin called and told me one of the boys from Charleston had referred a discharged SEAL sniper, I was against it,” the man said calmly. “We don’t want an American in our ranks. Who knows—maybe you he’s a mole.”

They continued walking.

“But when I heard you were there for killing women and children, I decided I wanted to meet you at least.” He chuckled softly. “And now, two years later, our revenue is booming and our customers are very satisfied. You’ve shown how valuable you are, Angel Eyes.” (foreign language)

Vincent inclined his head. “You honor me, Hyung-nim. You gave my life purpose when you took me under your wing. Both boss and Sera Productions count on your continued support and investment.” (foreign language)

“Of course, Vincent.”

They stopped in front of a door. The man unlocked it and stepped aside. “We have a gift for you.” Inside, a young woman was tied to a bed. The moment the door opened, she began shaking, muffled sounds forcing their way past the tape on her mouth.

Vincent entered, set his case down on a table, and walked toward her. He gently removed the duct tape. “Please…” she sobbed. “I want to go home…”

“Shhh,” Vincent said softly, pressing a finger to her lips. “Calm down. It’s alright.”

The man spoke from the doorway. “You can dispose of the livestock however you want. We already took what we needed.” (foreign language)

Vincent looked back at the woman. “He says I’ll let you go—if you can run as fast as you can and never speak about this place or its people. To anyone. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, nodding. “I swear. Please.” Vincent nodded to the man.

“Your payment has been sent to your wallet.” (foreign language)

The man left after that.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Vincent said, his tone almost gentle. “I could never say no to a pretty woman.” He brushed her cheek lightly. “Such smooth skin.” He untied her wrists and helped her sit up. She leaned against the wall, struggling to stand, her legs shaking as she searched blindly with her hands.

“Wait,” Vincent said. “Let me get you a jacket then I’ll take you outside so you can run.” He opened the case and removed his rifle. Picking up a jacket from the floor, he draped it around her shoulders. “Here. It’s cold outside.” He then kissed her forehead and held her briefly. “It’s time to open the cage and let the bird fly.”

With one hand guiding her and the other holding the rifle, he led her through the hallways, up the stairs. The door opened to a wide green field, trees stretching into the distance.

“You can run now.” She stepped forward, feeling grass beneath her bare feet. “I… I can’t see,” she whispered.

“It’s fine,” Vincent replied. “Just run in any direction. Run before that man changes his mind.”

“Thank you,” she said, clutching the jacket as she ran.

Vincent inhaled deeply, then exhaled. “Clear sky. Open field. A moving target.” He smiled faintly. “Good times.” His phone vibrated.

Ryo: When are you coming back, Mr. Reed? The party’s close.

Vincent: Soon, Ryo-chan. Sooooon.

In the distance, the girl stumbled and fell.

Ryo: I want to go shopping and stuff.

Vincent: So?

Ryo: I need your protection.

Vincent: You need protection?

Ryo: YES

Vincent smirked as he typed.

Vincent: Then buy a condom, you shallow wuss.

Ryo: You fu—

Vincent slipped the phone back into his pocket and raised the rifle.

Bang.

The body went still. “Hm,” Vincent muttered, scratching his cheek. “That was fast.”

*****

The phone ringed. “Hello, John. You need something?” Mei answered.

“I need to talk to you,” John said. “Can we meet?”

“Sure,” Mei replied without hesitation. “At o-seven hundred hours. There’s a bar called The Sax. It’s near your place.”

“I know it,” John said. “See you there.”

The call ended.

*****

At seven sharp, John was already at the bar.

It was an old place—wooden stools, scarred tables, and jazz humming low from unseen speakers. The air smelled of beer and varnish. It was more crowded than usual. A group of men nearby were loud and drunk, laughing too hard as they played darts and pool.

John took a stool at the bar.

The bartender, a big-bellied man with a long-curled mustache, walked over and smiled. “John. Long time no see. Everything good?”

“Hey, Mike,” John said. “All good. Give me something light.” Mike nodded, set a glass in front of him, and poured. “Same as always.” John took a sip just as the sound of a motorcycle engine revved outside.

The door swung open. Mei stepped in wearing a biker jacket, helmet tucked under her arm.

“Hey, John,” she said, raising a hand.

The group of drunk men immediately whistled. “Hey, mommy! Come sit with us!”

Mei ignored them and slid onto the stool beside John.

“Mind your business, boys,” Mike warned from behind the bar. He turned to Mei. “What’ll it be?”

“Whiskey,” she said. “One shot.” Mike looked at his shelves, then went to the back of the bar.

She looked at John. “So. Why did you want to meet?” John took another sip. “Ryo’s throwing a party next week.” Mei raised a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah. I think Aria’s happy about it.”

“You think?” Mei asked.

John exhaled. “I don’t know what she’s thinking anymore. She proved at the talk show how good of an actress she really is.”

Mei smirked. “I told you. That whole circle is made of professionals.”

One of the drunk men wandered over, swaying slightly. “Hey, girl,” he slurred. “Me and my buddy over there need someone like you. We’ll treat you right.”

Mei didn’t look at him at first. Then she spoke calmly, eyes forward. “Can’t you see I’m talking? Go back to your friends and play with each other.” John turned, his voice steady. “You heard her. She’s not interested.”

The man scoffed. “I wasn’t talking to you, pretty boy.” As he turned away, his hand rubbed on Mei’s back.

That was enough for her. In one smooth motion, Mei grabbed him by the collar and slammed his head against the bar. The crack echoed through the room.

The other men jumped to their feet. “What the hell did you do?!”

Mei slipped off her jacket and set it on the bar. “Sit right there, John,” she said calmly. “I’ll be back.” She stepped toward them. “You wanted to play? Let’s play.”

The first one rushed her. She ducked under his swing, hooked his arm, and drove him chest-first onto the pool table. The balls scattered loudly as she followed with a sharp elbow that dropped him flat.

Another came at her with a cue stick. She caught it mid-swing, twisted, and drove her knee to his face. He went down hard. The third guy tried to grab her from behind. Mei shifted her weight and threw him over her shoulder, slamming him onto the felt. He didn’t get back up. The last one hesitated but she didn’t. Two fast strikes—one to the ribs, one to the jaw—and he crumpled onto a chair. Silence fell over the bar.

Mei turned back toward John. “Sorry,” she said lightly. “I needed that.”

John took another sip. “You’re gunning for my job girl. Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

Mike returned with a bottle of whiskey, setting it down on the counter with a heavy thud. “Can’t even step into the back for a second before shit hits the fan.”

“Sorry, Mike,” John said.

“Don’t be,” Mike replied calmly. “I’ve been a bartender a long time. This is normal. I’m just too old for clean up after fights.” He poured Mei a shot and she took it in one go, not even flinching.

John studied her for a moment. “I know he touched you,” he said carefully, “but you went a little too hard.”

Mei didn’t look at him. “Can you pour me another one?” Mike slid the bottle closer and raised a brow. “Enjoy your fill, girl. I’ll put it on John’s tab.” John sighed. “Of course you will.” Mike grabbed a towel and headed off to deal with the mess near the pool tables. Mei poured herself another shot this time. She didn’t drink it right away.

John leaned slightly closer. “What’s your story, Mei?” He glanced at the glass in her hand. “Aria’s home with her sister. I’ve got time.”

“My story?” she echoed quietly. She lifted the glass and swirled the whiskey once. “You sure you want that one, John?” She downed the shot.

John picked up the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink. He didn’t rush her. “Go on,” he said.

Mei stared into her glass.

“I was nine when a local gang attacked our village,” she began. “They killed all the men. My father and my older brothers. After that… they did whatever they wanted. They drank. They burned houses. They took food. They took people.”

Her jaw tightened. “My mother hid me under the wooden floor of our house. She told me not to make a sound. I watched everything from there. All I could do was press my hand over my mouth so they wouldn’t hear me crying.”

She paused, then continued, her voice flatter now.

“I stayed there for a day. Maybe more. When the house finally went quiet, there was only one of them left. A boy. He was a little taller than me. He had fallen asleep. I crawled out, picked up the machete he left behind… and I finished him.”

She took a slow breath. “I took his clothes. Hid the body. Hid the bloodstained sheets. Then I cut my hair with the same machete and dressed like him.”

A bitter smile touched her lips. “I walked on my heels to make myself look taller. I only came out when I needed food. If anyone was nearby, I disappeared.” She lifted her glass but didn’t drink.

“After about a month, the U.S. Army arrived. They wiped the gang out.” Her eyes flicked to John. “That’s when I met him. Commander Price.”

John eyes widened immediately. “I didn’t know that.”

“He didn’t have a wife. Or kids. So he took me in. Raised me like his own.” Her voice softened just a little. “He signed me up for fighting classes, gym and disciplined me. Giving my life a structure. He’s a caring man.”

Then she snorted quietly. “Not that he was gentle. He once cussed me like a dog for getting tattoos while he was deployed.”

John chuckled.

“It was because of him,” Mei finished, “that I joined the force.” She finally drank.

“When I see a group of men like them—drinking, laughing,” Mei said quietly, “it reminds me of those men in my village.”

“Why did you ask to meet here then?” John asked.
She replied glass in hand. “This place is not usually crowded.”

John looked down at his glass. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If I made you bring it up… reopen an old wound.”

Mei shook her head. “It’s alright, John. Not talking about it doesn’t erase it from my mind.” She paused. “I just wish it did.” She slipped her jacket back on. “So,” she said, straightening. “About that party.”

John nodded. “It’s the perfect chance to get intel. Once I’m inside his house—when he’s distracted with Aria—I can move around freely.”

“Aren’t you going to ask Aria for help?” Mei asked.

“No.” His answer came too quickly. “I don’t trust her right now. She might be involved. Or she might be covering for him.” He exhaled. “Either way, I can’t risk it. I’ll act alone.”

Mei studied him for a second, then stood. “Alright. I’ll prepare some tools for you.”

“Do you need help getting home?”

She smirked. “I’m a heavy drinker. I’ll manage.”

As she headed for the door, John called out, tossing his keys. She caught them easily. “My place is closer,” he said. “Stay there tonight.”

Mei hesitated, then smiled faintly. “Thanks, John.” She paused again. “I’ve watched your recordings,” she added. “You’re not as bad as you think you are John.” John slipped a cigarette between his lips and lit it as she walked out. The smoke curled upward as his thoughts drifted back to the party he was about to crash.