“Yeah, this is a nice moment.” Antoine wasn’t sure how to deal with her simplistic, honest nature other than to mimic the sentiment. What was he supposed to say? This moment will be one of many lost to the sands of time? Sometimes, it was easier to lie. Especially when someone was offering a kindness not often given by strangers.

His stomach kept bubbling.

“Simple how? What’s your favorite—” Antoine gagged. He covered his mouth. “Your favorite—” He gagged again. What the hell is happening?

Tears started to form in his eyes — he wasn’t sad, he wasn’t in pain. It was an involuntary reaction from when you vomited. He gagged a final time, holding himself together. But soon, he’d break.

Bernard stepped out of the room.

“Okay, it’s been ten minutes. Let me help you with the—”

Antoine barfed. It was a slug. It shot out of his mouth and onto the ground. It began to crawl towards Antoine’s leg who promptly raised his foot in disgust.

“Why was that in my mouth?!” English again.

“Don’t step on it!” Bernard put his hand on Antoine’s chest and reached into his pocket. He pulled out the bottle. “Come on, buddy. I know, I know, my baby’s tired.”

The slug crawled back into the bottle.

“When he’s rested, he’ll turn back into liquid. Then you can swallow the drink and speak Japanese again. Or whatever language. It usually takes an hour.”

“I…” Antoine’s face was dumbstruck.

“No, no. Keep it. Looks like you need it.” Bernard winked and nudged Antoine’s side. “You little flirt, you.”

“I…” Antoine was too disgusted to process or fight against the unwarranted teasing. “I gotta go.”

“Right, right.” Bernard turned to Chiharu, speaking Japanese. “Excuse us, he’s feeling a bit under the weather. And here I thought he had butterflies in his stomach.” Another wink. “We will be off now.” Bernard waved. “Buy-bye everyone~”

He wrapped his arm around Antoine and muttered in his ear.

“Ahhh, things didn’t work out. I tried to get a good deal but have you seen the cut of his meat? No good. No good, at all.

“Yeah, yeah…” Antoine said, dazed. “Knife’s too dull.”

“Thank you!!” Bernard clapped his hands before returning to a whisper. “That’s what I said!!”

---

“I’m probably important to some people.” Antoine wasn’t sure of that. After his father’s passing, who did he have in his life anymore? When it came to matters of importance, Antoine was a negative force. The people he killed deserved to die, but even they had people who mourned them. And the victims might have felt some relief — divine retribution favored them. If Antoine was important, it was in the most abstract of senses there were no tangible bonds he could speak of. Unless you count Bernard. Christ. “But I don’t want to be a king or a hero or change the world.”

Antoine was lying, of course. But she didn’t need to see what made him tick. The closer he kept things to his chest the better. But leaning into his civilian persona — the version of him he wanted circulating — he found an opportunity to open up.

“My brother’s in Japan. Maybe I’ll be important to him.” He let out a small laugh. What the hell was that rant? “Not as important as food is to you. If I can eat it, then it’s good enough. Low bar.”

Antoine crossed his arms, as a thought crossed his mind.

“But Bernard might be interested in your critique. He’s got a huge ego about the authenticity of American cuisine and all that.” Antoine felt something bubbling in his stomach. Gross. What is that?

---

While getting into position, the situation escalated. There were now two others dealing with the dragon. The first threw a rock that bounced harmlessly off its reinforced scales — they seemed akin to steel at first glance. If it weren’t for the stone, then Antoine would have wasted a pool ball doing the same thing. But there was still information to be gathered.

When the tiger pounced on the dragon and tore flesh off its back, he knew that this beast could be harmed. The question was whether he could harm it. There was no guarantee he could trust these two. There was no guarantee they’d be able to coordinate with each other. And even if they could, would they let this person, whoever they were, die?

Antoine pulled the four-link chain and his body transformed from flesh to force as black wisps formed a silhouette approximating a human. He donned a demon mask, one he had been named after in the Caribbean. These same wisps manifested in the briefcase before him.

He pulled out his modified pool stick and pool balls. They were now coated in melted steel originating from his four-link chain — now five-links and made of force, too.

Aiming the pool ball at the spine of the dragon, he slammed the pool stick against it — the projectile flew and made contact, damaging the scales but ultimately failing to pierce through.

“I guess I’ll have to use the tiger’s claws.” Antoine closed the distance, running toward the two engaged with the dragon. Trusting them was a gamble, but there were too many people at risk. It’d only take him a minute but it felt like forever on the battlefield.

---

“I don’t know my mother either.” It spilled out of him. Empathy tended to. “I grew up with my father back in the West.”

Antoine overcorrected. When you show too much of who you truly are, you are stuck hiding the rest. He had recently learned a lesson in privacy. If he were to stay here, a byproduct of unfinished business — his roots reaching deeper into the country’s soil.

He turned to the cuts of meat on display. Antoine knew nothing more than your standard, kitchen fair. As long as it was edible, he didn’t see the problem in how sloppy the cuts were. It’d still taste the same, right?

“If I can eat it, then it’s good enough.” He shrugged, turning back to Saturday Prophet. “Oh, I’m not important, I’m the escort. Er, security.” Important clarification. Then again, maybe double-meanings weren’t an issue with this elixir he washed down. “That man is Bernard and he runs a restaurant. I just make sure no one gets hurt.”

---

The creature exploded into bristles and splinters, falling to the ground like one would expect a broom to. Somehow, there were more questions than answers. Antoine would only take solace in the fact that he had saved the hero. If that wasn’t what happened, he’d come to find out soon. He’d scour the news over the next few days to keep track of this boy’s future.

The lights were blinding. The cops pulled out their firearms, aiming them at Ghouligan. He had done his job. He didn’t need to hurt anyone else. And in order for them to wave their white flag, they’d have to understand the gap between them all.

Ghouligan put his hand on his chest.

Shoot.

And they did.

Before reaching him, the bullets stopped. You could see them spinning against the air before they came to a complete halt and fell to the ground, harmlessly. With shaking hands, the cops backed away. They knew their place.

The red flash from Ghouligan’s chain went unnoticed. It hid between the flashing lights. He walked deeper into the alley, eventually disappearing from their sight.

Free of the monster, the police would examine the bodies and begin the report. The hero was still alive. An ambulance would arrive shortly. The lawyer, however, had passed. And they collected the pool ball that had been used to kill him.

---

“Nice to meet you, Satpropet.” Sure, he knew Japanese now, but how the fuck do you spell Saturday Prophet? “You can call me Antoine. Or, uh, Ant.”

Not only was Antoine new to Japan, he was completely unfamiliar with their customs. He had no reason to believe that Satpropet was not her first name. Nor did he have reason to believe that people generally introduced themselves in such a way.

“It’s been…” Take care of the customer while the butcher’s busy. What a dumb, dumb order. Antoine was good a punching things, not talking to people. Maybe if they knew each other, or had anything in common, but small talk was impossible. Then again, they did mention Mother’s day. “Are you grabbing some food for a Mother’s day celebration or somethin’?”

Antoine didn’t have a mom. Well, he did. But he didn’t know her. The same way he had a brother and didn’t know him. Sucks that he can’t even call her today, since he doesn’t have her number. Would she even want to see him all things considered? This is too heavy for a butcher shop.

Also, it’s so weird speaking Japanese. To think I only have ten minutes… Can I think in Japanese? Holy shit. I am.

---

The assassin would even find their own clothing elusive, as everything in the area including his own limbs would slip out of his grasp. By the time he could plant his feet on the ground and pluck ashes from the fabrics of his clothing, Antoine would have disappeared.

---

“Bernard,” Antoine had never spoken to him like this before. “Who the hell was that?”

He pushed his boss against the wall, lifting him in the air so he couldn’t escape. Bernard wouldn’t have been able to anyway, but this was insurance. The kind of insurance he wanted to give Red.

“I’m just a security guard. You put me on death row,” Antoine yelled, “And now, there’s blood on my hands. Someone died because of you.”

“Someone died because of you,” Bernard smiled. “It was your job. And you failed. And that’s why you’re so upset.”

He’s silent.

“And you’re not just a security guard.” Bernard continued. This demeanor was different from every interaction they’ve had at Bernie’s Burgers. His inauthentic aura evaporated — this was the real Bernard. “We saw what happened. And we’re impressed. Sad that we lost rest but he was a dead man. No one w eknow could have stopped that assassin. But you did survive…”

“And?”

“And that means there’s a new offer on the table.”

“I’m done working for you.”

“No, you’re not, Ant.” Bernard sighed. He was over it.

“I am. I’m done.”

“Then more people will die. To assassins like him. To him.” Bernard felt his feet touch the ground. “Work for us and we’ll get you a rematch.”

“I’m going home.” Antoine let go. He shoves his hands into his pocket and walks away. He stops. “I’ll be in at 10.”

“Your shift starts at 8.”

“I’ll be in at 10.”

“10 is it, Ghouligan.”

---