Lucky Dog 1 translations 11 Ivan route 03 best
Part 3: Daivan
Chapter 11 Best
Italians are the Shit! Pt 1
This chapter contains some squicky imagery. Be warned.
|Ivan: Once we leave the district, we’ll be at Rockfort… There’s no turning back after that.|
|Gian: Getting my resolution down took quite some effort, so quit trying to make me change my mind, dumbass.|
One of the wheels to the Mercedes gets stuck in a pothole and rocks the car with a loud kerclunk. Our bodies jerk forward in time with the sound of something clattering and rolling about in the backseat.
I swivel my neck around to look … and see a freakish number of silhouettes in the dark. They’re the shadows of huge guns, piled one on another.
|Gian: What’s this? You did prepare some party supplies after all.|
|Ivan: Yeah, my guys loaded that up. That’s only if I get the chance to use them, though.|
My eyes flicker to a rather familiar leather bag, stuck under the dark shadows of the machinegun-and-shotgun mountain. …If I remember right, this is…
|Gian: Ooh? This thing’s still filled with those explosives from before.|
|Ivan: Huh? Those idiots … they didn’t take it off? That’s dangerous, so just toss it by some corner out on the street.|
|Gian: And what if a kid picks it up?|
|Ivan: It’ll teach them more than any porno could, so why not?|
Ivan casually throws the words out as he turns around the intersection. There, ahead of us…
…is the sea… We’re here…
…Shit. My hand’s started shaking. I shove the hand into my pocket to suppress the trembling, and also to pull out a smoke and a paper match.
Because there’s no window anymore, the wind comes swirling in from the driver’s side with a roar. I hunch over, my back to the wind, and try to create a barrier with my hand and arm… I clench the severed match between the striking paper and light it.
The cigarette lit, I take a deep breath … and that fluttering sound in my head and my heart calms down a tad … I think.
|Ivan: …Gimme one.|
I pinch my joint from my mouth and stick it out to the driver’s side. In the dark, the red tip of the cigarette shines a steady glow…
|Ivan: You know…|
Ivan starts speaking as he smokes the stick. His voice… It’s the voice you make when you’ve been thinking about something for a long, long time.
|Ivan: …When I was a kid, you know? I hung out with a whole buncha other people. I was a complete punk. Picked fights with everyone, even the Mafia. I was completely off my rocker… Man, I was an idiot.|
|Gian: Sounds like you haven’t changed a bit.|
|Ivan: Shaddap. And then … one of the guys I hung out with set me up. I … was almost killed.|
Ivan sends the now-short cigarette out the window, offering it to the wind.
|Ivan: Ever since, I’ve … always gotten by alone. I got all cowardly, like a mouse. Never got a good night’s sleep, night or day.|
…I remember now. Whenever I’m around … Ivan always snoozes like a baby.
|Ivan: …It’s really nice.|
|Gian: …What is?|
The Mercedes makes a wide turn in the pitch-black darkness. I can’t find anything else to say as the black shadows of something start rising into the sky in front of me.
The shadows of the cranes, rising up like the skeletons of giants. And the shadows of the warehouses lining the sea like teeth.
…Rockfort Port comes into view.
|Ivan: …You talked about Anne, remember?|
|Gian: Hm…? Oh, yeaaah. It was funny ‘cause you always got so pissy.|
|Ivan: In the story, you know… At first, Anne, you know, she said that all she wanted was to wear a white dress. She was just that kind of girl – that was all she wanted in life…|
|Gian: Oh really? I forgot.|
|Ivan: But Anne, she didn’t just want the dress… When things got tough, she would just try to reach for an even bigger happiness… But, I…|
At those words … Ivan’s voice stops.
|Gian: You what?|
…Ivan’s hand catches my arm.
|Ivan: …I’m … already happy with this.|
I… Before my mind can scrounge around for any words, I shake off the hand … and as Ivan’s hand is still floating there in midair, I grab it.
Contrary to the impression you get of him, his hand is … big. Dry.
|Gian: You’re such an idiot… You should be more greedy. You’re the Mafia.|
|Ivan: …Haha, guess you’re right.|
Ivan still keeps my hand caught in his…
…as he turns the wheel and moves the Mercedes down the wide street. …No, this isn’t a street. It’s the road leading to the port’s dumpsite…
The shine from the Mercedes’ headlight pierces all the way to the black sea, where it flows away. There … the dark shape of the embankment jutting out into the ocean reaches straight into another darker shadow.
The Mercedes glides forward over the giant concrete block that looks like a giant skyscraper’d keeled over into the sea, a wharf big enough for an enormous ship to pull up against.
I can see the inky black sea rolling, swaying. The big shadow floating there’s … a ship? This area’s a graveyard for ships that’ll never set sail again thanks to the depression.
A cold wind that doesn’t exist in the city howls, and the spray from the waves reaches even the car.
The Mercedes moves down the wharf facing the dark sea…
Ivan stops the car … and looks towards the place. Opposite the night sea are a line of colossal warehouses, even blacker than the water.
And at one of the warehouses … the colossal steel door is half-open. Orange-colored light leaks through the crack.
Ivan opens the car door … and steps out like it’s just any other day.
The wind’s strong. Just a while longer and the east sky should be lighting up, but the sky, the sea, and the buildings don’t seem to want to brighten up at all.
Right by the Mercedes is a straight drop… The car’s parked right up to the edge of the pier, past which is a vertical drop down, down to the black sea I can see far below.
Maybe because the tide’s currently dropping, but the surface of the sea’s lapping really far below. I look down and shudder.
Ivan: Let’s go.
Ivan and I set out on foot towards the warehouse with its weak light leaking out the door. The cold wind, saturated with salt, tease by us, and our clothes and hair sway with it.
My eyes catch the silhouettes of several black cars stopped surrounding the warehouse. Then…
GD Gangster 1: Stop right there!! Don’t take another step!
The slightly threatening voice flies out from the darkness telling us to stop simultaneously with the clicking of shotguns being loaded. The sound of more footsteps and more metal clinking overlap.
GD Gangster 2: Just try something funny. Your shoes’ll be the only thing left after we blow you to smithereens!
We stop, and surrounding us… A whole group of gangsters’ve formed a half-circle of muzzles around me and Ivan.
|Ivan: …I’m here, just like you asked! Honus…!! I know you’re here! Come on out!|
Ivan yells this into the whistling wind. A beat after he says this…
The warehouse doors open with a sound like it’s crashing down. Standing there’s an almost hilariously small figure that totally doesn’t match the sheer size of the door.
|Honus: Good evening, Mister Fiore. Hah, it pleases me to be able to see you tonight.|
|Ivan: There’s nothing to be happy about with our relationship. Now … where is the girl? She better be safe.|
|Honus: Mm? Now, what in the world would you be talking about?|
Honus chomps down on a huge cigar and his mouth twists into a sneer. I take a step forward and…
|Gian: Stop playing kiddy games here. We’re short on time, so let’s move on to business, ‘K?|
|Honus: What’d you say, brat?|
|Gian: I can see your junk shriveled up all the way from here. I’m sure you’ve heard. We CR:5’ve gathered our troops, and we’re pretty serious about this.|
A murmur runs through the hoodlums. Honus takes the weed out of his mouth and shoots a glob of spit in my direction.
|Honus: …You brats? War?! Don’t make me laugh! All you fuckers know is how to play house!|
|Gian: And wouldn’t it suck to be whacked while playing house? …If you’re quick about it, you’ll still make it. Let’s make the trade before my troops get here.|
|Gian: Where is she? Where’s Rosalia? If you return the Miss to us safe … the troops’ll back off without a fuss.|
|Honus: And where are your forces heading now?|
|Gian: Haha, you scared now that the chatterbox you tucked away in our family hasn’t called back? …We’ve seen through all the tricks you’ve got in that bag of yours.|
Honus’s throat chokes out a growl before he turns his back to us.
|Ivan: Show us the girl. That comes first.|
|Honus: …Come. She’s this way.|
Honus points to the warehouse behind him with the hand gripping the joint. All the gangsters creep closer as one with their guns still pointing our way, as though threatening us from behind to walk forward.
|Ivan: …I trust she’s safe, right?|
|Honus: Heh … hehe. Are you concerned?|
Honus gives a creepy laugh, his face screwing up like a toad’s.
We pass by the door and head into the warehouse.
The light from an oil lamp sitting on the wooden boxes flickers… Under that ring of light’s a small shadow … that belongs to a small person with a small sailor outfit lying there flat on a sack…
It’s Rosalia. Her hands and feet are tied with rope as she raises her lowered head.
…The chipmunk’s fine… For now, I’m relieved. They didn’t kill her. They didn’t play with her… Now, we just have to figure how to get out of here—
Just when the thought appears…
Whap and sparks fly across my vision … before everything goes black. A sharp pain spikes through my neck… My consciousness skips a beat as I fall.
Ivan: Gian?! Why you…!
Someone whacks my neck from behind with a blackjack. Ivan tries to cover me, but they come at him with clubs and bundles of chains.
|Rosalia: Ivan!! …A-Aah!!|
The sound of Ivan’s groaning and Rosalia’s shriek pierces through the black in my mind.
Kicks stab at my stomach. Just as I’m about to scream, other shoes kick my jaw something harsh.
|Gian: Gh … aagh…!|
…Shit, that was close… If I hadn’t been chewing gum, my teeth would’ve chipped. I feel myself almost completely let go of my consciousness when more kicks, more attacks slam into me, forcing me to roll about in pain.
Through my blurry eyes, I can see Ivan getting the same beating. And Rosalia’s unconscious from the horror of the scene before her.
|Honus: …Haha! Serves you right, you fucking brats … for getting carried away!|
Honus jabs the tip of his shoe into my stomach as I’m groaning.
|Honus: You just come swaggering in… Did you really think you’d get out of here alive?! Fucking shit!|
The gangsters snatch our guns from us.
|Honus: Leave them. It’s still too early for them to die!|
The beating’s … stopped. …Fuck, I think my rib’s gone and croaked…
The muzzle to Honus’s gun jams into my head.
|Honus: Nooow then! An attack from brats like you ain’t worth shit! Playing around in the sandbox more suits your style.|
|Gian: …Guh … you…|
|Honus: Why don’t we enjoy things our way? It’s not every day you pay us a visit, Ivan Fiore!!|
|Honus: I may not look it, but I’m actually a very tolerant man! I’ll give you one last chance, Ivan Fiore!|
Gulunk, and the muzzle shoves my head up against the ground.
|Honus: Ivan. I’ve heard you’ve fallen for the brat? Then..!|
Honus gives a nod, calling over some of his lackeys. The men do some signaling… They head over to where the oil lamp is and … pick something up before coming back.
|Honus: Hahaa!! Why don’t you give us a good show, Ivan?!|
Ivan and I both notice at the same time what the guys’ve got in their hands that’s making them smirk their faces off. It’s one of those big cameras, complete with strobe…
They drag Ivan over into the circle of light beaming from the lamp, and curled up in front of him is Rosalia’s unconscious body.
…Don’t tell me those bastards are…?! Just as I try to pick myself up, the thug guarding me pushes down on my neck with a double-barrel.
|Ivan: …What do you think you’re doing?|
|Honus: This girl here’s that Cavalli’s granddaughter, isn’t she? …Haha, and the geezer really cares about her, too!|
Honus practically licks his lips as he faces Ivan, poking his chest with the shotgun.
|Honus: Fuck the kid. Right here.|
|Ivan: What?! What’d you—?|
|Honus: If you do, we’ll let you and that brat over there out of here alive! Now, do it!! You know you’ve always wanted to!|
|Honus: You were waiting for her to get a bit bigger, weren’t you? They’re not bad when they’re small, you know! You’ve never tried before?|
|Ivan: …’course I haven’t…|
|Honus: When they start squealing, you give them a smack, and then you shove yourself into that tight hole …! There’s nothing like it, and I’m giving this one to you!|
|Ivan: …And if I do this … you’re saying you’ll make me one of you?|
|Gian: Ghk … I-Ivan…!!|
|Honus: Yeah, that’s right!! Swear your loyalty to me with the brat’s blood!! And once you do, we’ll get a good shot of her…|
Honus cackles like a madman.
|Honus: …and we’ll send that fucking infuriating geezer a photo of his cute little granddaughter getting fucked! Heehehe! Haheeheeheehee!!|
|Honus: We’ll even keep your face outta it! And then… Haha, we’ll send the picture over to a porno store in the city…!! Haaheeheehee!|
|Honus: Fucking Cavalli, when you find out guys’re jerking off at the picture of your granddaughter getting raped! Heeheehee! I can’t wait to see the expression on his face!!|
…Ivan…?! Why … aren’t you saying anything?! Don’t tell me you’re…?!
|Honus: We managed to ground up the geezer’s son and wife, but this brat was the only one who managed to escape! …Now, Ivan!! Do it!!|
|Honus: Go on!! Show us how a stallion ruts!!|
Ever since I’d become one of the Mafia, I’ve done tons of bad shit … or so I’d thought … but this fucking pig … he’s something else…
…Ivan pulls out his belt. I stare, shocked, with my eyes wide open … and a chill freezes up my spine. Don’t tell me…?!