Vice-president:
Carol.

Carol:
Hello, sir.

Vice-president:
Have some grace about yourself.

Carol:
Oh! I'm sorry. I guess I got carried away.

Vice-president:
What are you doing up there anyway?

Carol:
Well, honestly, sir, I was thinking about the story.

Vice-president:
Story?

Carol:
Well, I just can't seem to stop thinking about the series of strange events that began back in November of 1930, sir.

Vice-president:
There was a time not too long ago when you and I traveled together on a train.
Do you recall this?
I said something to you on that journey.
I wonder if you can remember what that was?

Carol:
Let's see...


Carol:
Wow! A rainbow!

Vice-president:
Carol, from the time we are but children, we see rainbows as beautiful things.
Without a doubt in our heads upon sight, they are harmonious to our spirit. I've always wondered why that was.
Of course, people who do not understand science or the refraction of light might see this anomaly in the sky as a harbinger of a natural disaster, thinking that something unwelcome might be coming down from that rainbow.
Perhaps vegetation might be ablaze at the foot of the rainbow, bringing destruction.
At any rate, we still see these seven-colored pieces of information with a sense of fairytale magic to them.
Haven't you ever thought about that, Carol?

Carol:
Well, no. And even if I did think about it, I couldn't tell. And besides, it's not even part of our job to think about things.
We report to others the outcome of things that happen.

Vice-president:
319 points.

Carol:
Ah! Out of how many?

Vice-president:
It's true that our job is to convey truth to others, but we can never stop thinking, especially not in those moments when we are obtaining information.
Thinking clearly is paramount at those times.
In fact, Carol, to stop at simply determining whether information is true or false is reckless and abdicates the responsibility of those who deliver information to others.

Carol:
Okay, but what is there to think about?
You can think about something all day, but it doesn't change whether it's true or not.

Vice-president:
No, it does change.

Vice-president:
Now, do you recall, Carol?

Carol:
Yes, Mr. Vice President.

Vice-president:
What we report is neither unaffected information nor perceived information.
It's the precursor to a conclusion.
Tell me, you could have chosen any date on the timeline, but you selected 1930 as the point these stories began. Why?
How can one not have the answers to these questions and call themselves the assistant to Gustav Saint-Germain, the vice-president of the Daily Days?
Perhaps you'd like some help.
The year is 1711. Perhaps it's best to start this tale inside the Advenna Avis, as it crosses a particularly desolate stretch of the Atlantic.
Of course the best opening might be the nasty business that happened aboard the transcontinental, Flying Pussyfoot.
An account that concluded so atrociously its happening was swiftly covered up.
Now Carol, with the knowledge of those stories as well as the dozens you must have absorbed from all these books strewn about, you have chosen November of 1930 as the beginning. Why is that?

Carol:
Well, Mr. Vice President, I was thinking about how to make the story easy to understand and I thought, well, the easiest way to see this is through our eyes, so I picked the time when the whole mess was first brought to our attention.
Smart, huh?

Vice-president:
156 points.

Carol:
Um, out of how many?

Vice-president:
While that's easiest way to see this mosaic, you should think about more than time.
The characters are crucial elements as well.
Do not neglect to consider them.
Let's say...

Isaac:
Uh, ow!

Miria:
Aaaah, Isaac!

Vice-president:
What if we were to look at the eccentric pair of robbers and see the two of them as our central players?
Or perhaps, the young man who suffers with a cursed destiny.
Or perhaps, the Gandor family's brilliant young capo.
Or perhaps...

Carol:
What about this guy?

Old man:
Sir, do you have any charity to offer?
The Lord is watching your actions.
The Lord will judge your actions. In time He …

Firo:
Hey, old-timer.

Carol:
He's main character-ish.

Vice-president:
'"-ish"?

Carol:
Yeah, "-ish."

Firo:
You're in luck; I'm feeling generous today.
Here you go.

Old man:
Oh! Thank you very much, sir!
The Lord be sure to bless your actions.
No doubt you will be very blessed, sir.

Firo:
Eh, that old ''pious when it suits ya'' bit?
You should kick that to the curb, old-timer.  [kick ~ to the curb: お払い箱にする。]

Old man:
Hold on a minute; I got something for you, some flowers I picked to say thanks.

Firo:
Eh, they're probably dead anyway.

Old man:
You're closer to the mark than you think.


Carol:
He's a good candidate, right?

Vice-president:
Hmm.


Firo:
Alright. Tell me something.

Old man:
Stay back, get away, you monster!

Firo:
Old-timer, did you know that I'm Firo Prochainezo of the well-respected Martillo family? Did ya?!

Vice-president:
Very good, Carol.
I see what you mean by main character-ish.
Yes, you may indeed be right about that one.

Carol:
I thought so.

Vice-president:
Still, Carol, depending upon which of these interesting characters you focus, the same incident will behave like the surface of the ocean.
Changeless yet ever changing.
In other words, there may be but one event that as many stories as there are people to tell them.

Gustavo:
Listen up, men! You go in there and destroy everything!
We're past the point for warnings or negotiations.
Now it's our time! Nobody else exists in our world.
It doesn't matter who you are!
Gandors, Martillos, I don't care!
You burn powder till everyone's on the ground!
When you're done, I want every trace of their existence wiped off the face of the earth!


Berga:
So Luck, that gink you picked up earlier... Dead yet?

Luck:
Chick's taking care of him, seeing if he's sensitive enough to feel more pain.

Man:
Boss, we just got hit again!

Luck:
What's the damage?

Man:
A gambling parlor and a speako downtown.
Oh, and a ticket window too. Lucky nobody got dead.

Berga:
Damn Runarotas! I'm gonna blast them all to hell! They're dead!
Every last one of them!

Man:
We got one of the guns who knocked over the ticket window and dragged him back here to see what he knows.

Berga:
Let's see him.
You bastards think you can come after our turf, and we'll just turn a blind eye, huh?

Bartolo:
You've got quite a fire lit in you.


Carol:
Wait. So you're saying the whole thing starts when the Mafia and the Camorra go after each other?

Vice-president:
Consider this.


Gustavo:
Luck Gandor is now pushing daisies. We heard he could hold his own but he certainly showed us otherwise.
The Gandors are just small time, Boss. It won't take much trouble to wipe them out.
We've made arrangements to purchase a new kind of bomb from a very exclusive source and after that we can take on the Martillos.

Bartolo:
Never mind that now. There's another task that needs your attention.

Gustavo:
Yeah?


Vice-president:
Or perhaps...


Eve:
Dallas, where are you?


Vice-president:
Or perhaps, Carol, it wouldn't be too surprising for you and I to be the people or the characters who begin this tale.

Carol:
Really?



1931


Bartolo:
Dallas Genoard, you know him, right?

Gustavo:
Yeah. Second son of the Genoard family.

Bartolo:
He is the son of Limod Genoard, a man you took upon yourself to kill without any instructions from me.
He also just happens to be the younger brother of another man you killed on your own, named Jeffry Genoard.
You follow?

Gustavo:
Um, right, but what about Dallas?

Bartolo:
Dallas contacted the office, said that you were the one who killed his father and brother.
Also said he had proof, Gustavo.

Gustavo:
No, that ain't right. I even paid off the guys at the court.
There's no proof nowhere!

Bartolo:
But then how is it do you suppose Dallas fingered you?

Gustavo:
He did?

Bartolo:
I want you to deal with it.
Find Genoard and bring him here to me.

Gustavo:
Sir, but what do you want me to do about Gandors?

Bartolo:
Dallas has first priority; find him as soon as possible.

Gustavo:
Yes, sir... Can I make the call on whether he comes in dead or alive?

Bartolo:
Dead or alive? Hm… Knock yourself out.

Gustavo:
Listen up, men! We got a target! Dallas Genoard!
I want that no-good second son of the Genoards brought here dead or alive!
That spoiled son of a bitch is gonna pay for making a fool of me and the entire Runorata family!

Bartolo:
What a wretched bastard.


Berga:
Say something, will ya! Open that ugly mug of yours!
Where's the pair of balls you had when you attacked us, huh? Punk!
Don't "ugh" me, Bruno!
You're talking it out if I gotta kick it out of your ass!

Beat-up man:
You...!

Luck:
You have the look of a man who's seen a ghost.

Beat-up man:
B-but... you should be dead.

Luck:
Mr. Chick, come here, please.

Chick:
Eh? What is it, Mr. Luck? You got something for me?

Luck:
Think you could fit one more into your busy schedule?

Chick:
Whatever you need, pal!
But I haven't washed the blood and grease and piss from my tools yet.
So I get the feeling it's gonna hurt a lot.
I'm sorry about that.

Beat-up man:
Please, no more!
Look, I'll tell you anything you want to hear!
Just don't let that freak get his hands on me!

Luck:
Who was it?! Who thought that they could ventilate me?


Firo:
Luck.

Luck:
Firo.

Firo:
You know you look kinda creepy when you make that face.
What're you reading there, pal?

Luck:
Thy soul shall find itself alone
'Mid dark thoughts of the grey tomb-stone;
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.
Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness- for then
The spirits of the dead, who stood
In life before thee, are again … [Sprits of The Dead by Edgar Allan Poe]

I used to be so scared of this poem. I couldn't stand it, but now it doesn't seem to bother me. Not since what happened a year ago.

Firo:
Why is that?

Luck:
Maybe since I lost any need to be afraid; I also lost any feelings of anxiety.
Towards death, I mean.
Come on, Firo, don't you ever think about it?

Firo:
No.

Luck:
Forget I said anything.

Firo:
And done.
Word out there's that a strange bunch have been hanging around our turf lately.

Luck:
My money says whoever it is, they got the Runoratas backing them.

Firo:
I'll be there to help you whenever shit hits the fan. [shit hit the fan:厄介なことになる]

Luck:
Firo, please pretend you don't know. You realize that's our biggest problem.

Firo:
That's a standoffish thing to ask.

Luck:
We just need to leave the Martillos out of this and don't worry about it. I called in Vino.

Firo:
Vino? Claire's coming in?

Luck:
He's gonna be on board the Flying Pussyfoot which will arrive tomorrow.

Firo:
I think Isaac and Miria are riding on the same train.
I also heard something about an old friend of Maiza's being on board it.

Luck:
Why don't we pick them up together?


Inspector1:
You certain about that?

Policeman1:
Yes, the damage that they took was severe, but there's no mistaking that these were once passengers aboard the Flying Pussyfoot.

Inspector1:
How many bodies so far?

Policeman1:
It's rough but what we come up with is in the teens.
Their bodies have been left along the tracks here and there all over twenty-some odd miles.
Please, inspectors, what on earth has happened out here?

Inspector2:
It's classified.

Inspector1:
You're better off not knowing.

They were definitely on board.

Inspector2:
Immortals?

Inspector1:
Yeah. Their names were on the passenger list at the station in Chicago.

Inspector2:
What about the lady's safety?

Inspector1:
Our orders are to investigate that next.
Do you think we can do it? Keep something like this covered up?

Policeman2:
Inspector Sullivan.

Inspector1:
What is it?

Policeman2:
It appears there's a survivor who's been found among the bodies.

Inspector1:
There's what?


Shopkeeper:
Mr. Luck?

Luck:
Yeah, I'm fine. They hit you?

Shopkeeper:
But they got you!
I saw them cut you to shreds with my own two eyes!


Adele:
There's no problem. Or at leas there shouldn't be, right?

Isaac:
Ahh! Agh... It doesn't hurt!

Miria:
Ahhh! Isaac, your wound's disappeared! It's like it never happened.

Isaac:
What an amazing trick!

Miria:
What's next? Doves?


Czeslaw:
What a useless thug.


Shopkeeper:
But how?! You should be dead after that!

Luck:
Hey, Firo, where'd you run off to?

Firo:
Right behind you.
There you go! At least let me do this much for you.

Luck:
We'll cover all of the damages. And about what you saw here today...

Shopkeeper:
I didn't see here anything!
As far as I'm concerned this happened while I was out!
Besides if I ever told anyone what happened here, they'd lock me away in some loony bin!

Luck:
And you, I don't think we can ignore what you boys have done.


Man:
I'll find you. I promise.


Firo:
From what I hear the Flying Pussyfoot is unusual, a real one of a kind.

Luck:
Those are both kinder terms than I'd used to describe it, everybody that I've talked to just calls it gaudy.
Personally I call it ostentatious.

Firo:
I wanna see it more now.

Ennis:
Don't get your hopes up.
They made an announcement a moment ago that the Flying Pussyfoot had a break down and all the passenger cars were switched to another train.

Firo:
What?! Are you kidding me?!

Maiza:
'Fraid so. They're gonna trade out the lead car with a smokeless electric engine before it even enters Manhattan.
So yeah, it stinks for you.
You miss seeing all its glory, if you call it that.

Firo:
Oh, well.
So, about this old friend of yours, Maiza, what kind of a person is he?
I need to worry?

Maiza:
Not at all. He's introverted, but he carries the weight of the world on his shoulder.
So some folks might see him as fragile.

Luck:
The type who wouldn't last long if he was a normal person?

Berga:
Claire's as the same way but for the completely opposite reason.
I mean he's cheerful, yeah, but too damn stubborn.

Firo:
That's the truth.


Ladd:
Hey, hey, hey, hey, you bulls gonna stare at me all day while I bleed out, or you gonna take me in?
You might not tell by looking at me but I'm in a pretty foul mood today.
If I'da known this is what would happen I woulda made absolutely sure to kill you sooner.
If you like, I could kill you right here.

Lua:
But Ladd, you don't...

Ladd:
What's the matter, sweet heart?
You saying you don't wanna be killed by me?!


Jacuzzi:
Oh, it hurts! It hurts. Just give me a minute.
Sorry, Nice, but can you please just go a little slower? This is killing me.


Man1:
Is that a person?

Man2:
Hey there, are you alright?


Isaac:
Ennis, Firo and Maiza! Long time no see, my fine fellows!

Miria:
You all look wonderful!

Ennis:
It's really good to see the two of you again.

Miria:
It is, isn't it?

Firo:
What happened?
You look like hell ran you over. Easy!

Isaac:
You live long enough and someday I'll tell you the story.
Good to see you, kid.



Preview:


Isaac:
Hey, Miria, what do you think this "aside" place is?

Miria:
Well, it's not here, right?

Isaac:
Oh, so wherever it is, it must be somewhere.

Miria:
So where is somewhere?

Isaac:
Didn't you hear? It's "aside" where the old woman's qualms are.

Miria:
That's incredible, Isaac; you're so smart.