Reintroducing: Vorelando Jones

"Vorelando Jones!"

It takes the brain 50 milliseconds to comprehend the spoken word. So 51 milliseconds after the name 'Vorelando Jones' hit the air inside Namae no Nai Baa the establishment fell dead silent.

Hardened criminals, murderers, rapists, all eyes in the room fell on Naze's pointed finger. None of them dared turn their gaze in the direction it led, no one was that stupid.

The patrons closest to the door made a mad dash for the exit, others hid underneath their tables or began texting their loved ones like they were on a plane that had lost both engines. A couple of people took out their concealed-carry AR15s that they only purchased for self-defence reasons and shot themselves through the roof of the mouth rather than face the incoming carnage.

You see, 'Vorelando' wasn't just any old proper noun, it was an accusation.

"You shouldn't throw that name around lightly, girlie," Vorelando said as he took another sip from his glass of straight vodka.

"It's not being used lightly, I know who I'm speaking to."

"You should leave before you get hurt," Vorelando said without turning towards Naze.

"I'll leave when I get an answer!"

Naze marched up to the stool beside Vorelando, rolled the recently created body off of it and sat down beside him.

"I'll have what he's having," Naze declared to the bartender who was polishing his shotgun.

The bartender raised an eyebrow at the man accused of being Vorelando Jones.

"Just pour her a kids size, Vic. I'll cover it."

Vic the bartender obliged, poured a fifth of vodka in a sippy cup and handed it to Naze.

"So..."

"I get a question now."

For the first time the man met Naze's gaze and it froze her in place. From the periphery, his eyes had seemed dead but confronting them directly revealed that that was a facade, and underneath it laid a deep-seated rage.

"What's your name, girlie?"

"Izuka Naze, investigative journalist."

"With who?"

"I like to think of myself as working freelance."

"Alright then, Naze-chan, answer one more question for me and I'll answer yours."

"Shoot."

The man downed his glass of vodka in one go and then wiped his mouth on his wrist.

"Would you want to be Vorelando Jones?"

The man went to motion Vic for another glass but Vic just handed him the entire bottle.

"I don't think I understand the question."

"You're looking for Vorelando, that means you need him for something. To be hated by the world. To know your shoulders could not bear the weight of expectation placed upon them. To be hunted day and night by your enemies. To be the reason a Disney+ subscription is mandatory under punishment of death. To be the biggest failure history has ever known... If it meant achieving your goals, would you want to be him?"

Naze hesitated. She had been so focused on finding the name that she hadn't considered the man underneath it. He was hurting, but that wasn't important right now. What was important was facing his honest head-on. Was her ambition equal to his pain?

"...I don't know."

"Then why would I?"

The man who Naze was almost certain at this point was Vorelando handed her the bottle of vodka as a group of men entered the bar behind them.

"Hold on to that for a few minutes, you seem to have brought some old business my way."

The men who had entered the bar were an infamous bunch known as the Yakuza 5. None of them had names and if anyone tried to refer to any of them on an individual basis they would be killed on the spot.

Some of the patrons of the bar had gone running to the police after the mention of Vorelando's name and naturally, that meant organized crime was quick to respond to the commotion. On this occasion it just happened to be that organized wore suits instead of badges.

"So, Vorelando, we meet again," the Yakuza 5 chanted in unison.

"Never thought I'd see the Yakuza 6 again after that incident on Saipan."

In a flash one of the 5 had Vorelando up against the wall with a forearm pressed against his throat. Half a second later, a katana, naginata, shuriken and a kunai were aimed at every vital organ he knew he still had.

"We're the Yakuza 5 now, thanks to you."

"We can make that the Yakuza 0 if you want."

One of the 5 cracked him across the face with a fierce hook, busting his lip.

"Look at the situation you're in, there's no escape! If we wanted you dead already you'd be dead!"

"Kill me if you think you can."

"Oh we will, but before we do, there's a question we have to ask... Why don't you wear a shirt?"

"That's what you wanna know? You have the world's most wanted man in your hands, and that's what you ask!"

"Don't test me, freak! I'm giving you a few extra breaths to satiate my curiosity, but there's only so many curiosity is worth."

"Paradoxical undressing," Vorelando stated confidently.

The blades aimed at his neck seemed to falter for a moment. 'What on earth does that mean' they were thinking.

"DON'T FUCK WITH ME, BOY."

"Don't accuse me of fucking with anybody I don't fucks with, number one," Vorelando said as he strolled away from the Yakuza 5.

"How did yo..." the man who had been pinning him against the wall looked to where his arm used to be and, naturally, discovered he no longer had one.

"Number two," Vorelando continued as he sat back down at the bar and grabbed the bottle of Vodka from Naze, "it seems like you might be in need of some education. Paradoxical undressing is a symptom of severe hypothermia. As your body temperature drops lower and lower, you begin to lose reason. As you continue to lose yourself, slip further into induced delirium, you begin to feel a great warmth burning within you and to cool down you take off your clothes."

The Yakuza 5 twitched at Vorelando's words. None of them knew where he was going, but they too were beginning to feel the urge to strip their bodies of their suits.

"Nearly half of all hypothermia-related deaths occur this way. Many such cases during the 1912 sinking of the HMS Titanic. But... but... you may notice, that I'm not dead. I'm very much alive."

"What the fuck does that mean Vorelando???" the Yakuza 5 asked.

"You asked me a question, and I answered it. You wanted to know why I don't wear the shirt..."

"Get him!!!!!" the Yakuza 5 screamed, charging Vorelando as they realized it was their only chance of escape... but far too late.

"...it's because I'm cold as fuck."

Vorelando grabbed is lower jaw with his right hand and pulled down sharply, dropping it all the way to the floor. Then, using his arms and legs, he grabbed the asking around his mouth and pulled it wide to form a circle, before lying down on the bar floor. The Yakuza 5 tried to stop but their momentum carried them into each other and then into Vorelando's awaiting mouth.

The screams lasted an eternity, getting further and further away until inaudible. Only then did Vorelando readjust his mouth and let out a large satisfied burp.

By this stage the only three people left in the bar were Vorelando, Naze and Vic, the bartender.

Vorelando thought that this display would scare Naze off. She had seen the darkness that slept inside him, anyone else who had had run away or been vored trying.

But Vorelando, for all his ability to read very specific porn, was not good at reading people.

"I want to change my answer," Naze declared, "I would give anything to be you, Vorelando Jones!"