Mardock Scramble

Those on the floor watched in stunned silence as Balot reached for the box and took a golden chip, one with the OctoberCorp emblem etched on its face. When Ashley said, And now please choose your other one, the whole crowd seemed about to faint. Balot checked for the last OctoberCorp emblem—the final piece of the puzzle—and once she’d located it, she gingerly took the chip into her care along with the other three.

“Perhaps you might be able to share with me—only if it suits you, that is—just what it is about these chips that you’re seeking?” Ashley said as he placed the box—now deprived of a third of its golden luster—back into place.

Balot casually slipped the chips into her glove—as if they were unimportant—and answered him.

–I made the trade too, I think. Like the mermaid with the sorceress. So that I would be able to walk, in a manner of speaking.

“So that’s what you’re aiming for, is it? To be able to walk properly?”

–I think so.

Ashley nodded, greatly impressed. Or so it seemed, but then he frowned.

It wasn’t Balot’s fault, though—indeed, his sudden change of demeanor was nothing to do with her and everything to do with the barrage of words that were now assaulting his ears through his earpiece. Balot knew immediately who was haranguing him so—not so much from the voice, but from the words themselves.

If the vicious words of recrimination were anything to go by, this was indeed a cursed man, the man whose life was full of the emptiness of his own creation.

Balot watched Ashley as he winced and then cringed under the vicious barrage of recriminations and insults. Somehow she found it funny.

–The owner of the casino, perhaps?

“As you say, miss—very perceptive of you. Looks like we’ve not just entered a minefield but also stepped right on top of a charged mine to boot. I am sorry about this—I would have liked to present a more professional face to you…” With the last words, Ashley’s glance flickered toward Bell Wing.

“It’s a bit too late for that, Ashley. You’ve long since fallen for this girl,” Bell Wing pointed out, bringing him back down to earth. Ashley grinned good-naturedly. Balot thought she’d seen this smile once before somewhere.

He turned back to Balot with the same expression and continued. “I have one round left to win everything back from you and finish you off, apparently. Otherwise it’s the flamethrower.”

–Flamethrower?

“Pink slip. His dismissal papers,” Bell Wing explained. Ashley bowed to confirm this—just so.

“Looks like this is how it’s going to end for me, then. One more round is nowhere near enough time for me to find a way to beat you. It might be a different story if we had another ten rounds or so, of course, but by then I’d probably be rooting for you anyway; I’m sure I’d want you to win by the end, which would kind of defeat the whole object, wouldn’t it? Hmm, what to do…”

–Please call the owner of the casino here. I want to return these chips to him in person.

Balot felt the information on the third chip being sucked out from within her glove as she spoke. Ashley was rarely lost for words, but he was now. He turned to look at Bell Wing.

In turn, Bell Wing was no less surprised. The two dealers looked at each other in silence for a while, trying to work out what was behind this sudden turn of events and what it could mean.

When the silence was eventually broken it was in the form of a roaring laugh from Ashley.

“Man, you really got us, didn’t you. Are you saying that it was never your intention to try and break the bank here?” Ashley’s fine-whiskered face was now creased in laughter, as if he’d just been subjected to a barrage of the most hilarious comedy known to mankind.

Balot nodded, and Ashley looked up to the heavens. “In other words, you’ve already found what you’ve come for. A target that we never even knew about and still don’t know the details of… Incredible. Well, you know what? I may be here as the yojimbo, but my job is to protect the casino—I’m not a bodyguard. The owner will just have to fend for himself. And if you’re after him, miss, I can’t say I rate his chances too highly.”

Bell Wing was nodding too—she had finally understood it all.

Ashley looked back at Balot, then placed his massive hand over his equally massive chest. “I’ll be praying for you, miss, that your magic spell lasts as long as possible.” His tone of voice was now dignified and polite, in such contrast to his raucous laughter of a minute ago that Balot wondered whether she had dreamed that laughter.

–Thank you.

Ashley’s infectious grin emerged again, and he walked away from the table.

?

Balot looked over in the direction Ashley was moving and snarced Oeufcoque softly.

–That dealer—he’s a lot like you, Oeufcoque, you know.

–You think so? In what way?

–In many ways. He just is, kind of. He has his strict side but also a gentle streak. And he’s a unique personality.

–Just your type, then.

–I guess so. Jealous, much?

Oeufcoque didn’t reply right away. He left a short pause—signifying that he was somewhat preoccupied with the delicate operation involving the million-dollar chips—before answering.

–I’m not aware of any such symptoms, no.

–That’s a shame. You’re allowed to be a little jealous, you know.

–Sorry about that.

Oeufcoque was apparently unaffected, and Balot felt a bit disappointed. But then more words floated abruptly up on her hand, as if Oeufcoque was spitting the words out in spite of himself.

–I was frightened back then when I was removed from your hands. I thought you might be throwing me away.

–But I want to use you, Oeufcoque. In exactly the way that you want me to.

She patted her gloves gently as if to reassure him that this was indeed the truth. She stroked him like a mother stroking her baby’s face to tell it that it was special, beloved, wanted.

It dawned on Bell Wing that Balot was up to something. “Are you speaking to someone, young lady?” Bell Wing was as sharp as ever.

Balot just nodded, truthfully.

–Yes. I’m speaking to someone who helps me out.

“Your guardian angel, no doubt.”

Balot smiled. Then she turned her eyes to the table. The deserted table.

She needed to compose herself, to prepare for the man who would soon be arriving here.

As if she too were inside the trunk of the car that had contained the corpse of Ashley’s brother.

This was a battle fought over the right—the privilege—of starting everything anew.

?

“They’re coming,” Bell Wing whispered.

Ashley led the way, taking his characteristically large strides, flanked by two other men. One of them was the man Balot had been expecting all along. The other she didn’t recognize. Ashley’s demeanor wasn’t so much that of