"So Chief Bram has a hand in it now. Are you going to go, boss?"
In the office, Ambrose and Emery had come by as well, and had taken a look at the invitation.
"Since that's how it is, I'll go and see. It is a Chief's invitation, after all."
Vance said it with a light laugh. Things being as they were, he meant to go and look.
"In that case, if Chief Bram steps in, doesn't that mean..."
Emery said it with his brows drawn together. If Bram, an Elite-Four-class fighter, took a hand once they were at the dinner, what then?
Vance said, "No matter. Even if Chief Bram speaks up, it means a little more trouble at most. He can say what he likes and I'll do what I do; it only costs me a bit of time and a few more methods."
Ambrose, listening beside him, frowned and said, "Then doesn't that put an end to the whole thing?"
"Heh. How would it put an end to anything? There are always chances, so long as a man is willing to look for them. You can play the thief a thousand days; nobody guards against thieves for a thousand days."
"There are methods enough. Didn't the pair of you see last night that the man has a wife and children?"
"Oh." Ambrose let out a startled sound and looked at Vance as though meeting him for the first time.
"What, you thought I wouldn't do a thing like that? Surely not. Am I such a good man??"
Meeting Ambrose's eyes, Vance raised an eyebrow and laughed.
Could his easy temper have led them to think him a good man?
Easy-tempered he was, but that did not mean he had no temper at all.
This time his life had been at stake. However good a man's temper, that would rouse it.
Blood debts are paid in blood. You had a hand in taking my life, so my taking yours is only natural.
How I go about it, and whether the methods are dark ones, is my own affair.
Open and aboveboard is for good men, for upright characters. He, Vance, was only Team Rocket; dark, insidious, low — was that not simply how it is done?
If they were afraid of his revenge, what had they been doing beforehand?
Once you take a hand in it, you had better be ready to be repaid.
Hearing that, Ambrose said, "If he says it out plainly and you still make your move, doesn't that offend him?"
"Heh, near enough. Then he's offended. If he can see how things stand and still wants to step in, why would I show a man like that any courtesy?"
That evening Vance went to the place written on the invitation, and a waiter led him to the private room named there.
"Knock, knock—"
"Come in."
When the door opened and he saw the waiter bringing Vance in, Draven got straight out of his chair and came forward, all smiles.
"Mr. Vance, an honour, an honour." Draven wore a sincere smile; to look at him you would have thought the two of them were the closest of acquaintances. Then he sent the waiter away.
"Never mind the honour. Where's the Chief? I don't see him."
Vance neither agreed nor disagreed, and answered coldly.
"Ha ha, no hurry, no hurry. This way, please. The Chief will be along later. As it happens, there is something I want to talk over with you first."
Draven had laid his airs aside; his aging face was all smiles and remarkably warm.
"Oh? And what is there to talk over? I don't recall having anything to talk over with you, Division Commander Draven."
Even as he said it, Vance came over to the table and found himself a seat.
"There wasn't before; there is now, isn't there? I won't hide it from you — a while back I was a fool. I actually handed a man from another branch information about my own branch. A fool, truly. Every time I think of it I regret it bitterly; I haven't slept well for days."
Saying it, his face filled with distress, the very picture of a man eaten up with regret.
"I don't think you need regret it at all. Whatever you did, you carry what comes of it. Regret — regret what? Do good to another man and good comes back to you; do harm, or drive a man to his death, and you bear the consequence of that too."
Vance said it flatly.
"Squad Leader Vance, I'll say it plainly. As the saying goes, better to undo a quarrel than to tie one. That is why I asked you here today. What I did the other day was a moment's foolishness."
"A moment's foolishness? A fine moment's foolishness — foolish enough that I nearly died in Porta Vista. Since we're speaking plainly, I'll have a moment of foolishness myself, and let you taste what it's like. If you come through alive, we'll call the whole thing square."
Vance answered without the least courtesy.
At that, Draven's face turned very ugly.
He had gone this far, humbled himself this much, and still the man would not let him off.
Seeing it, Vance paid him no mind; he stood up, looked round the room, gave a small laugh and started for the door.
"Since the Chief isn't here, and I have a great deal on, I'll be going. As for you, my position stands."
He had just reached the door when a hearty laugh came from the other side of it.
Branch Chief Bram pushed the door open and came in.
"Ha ha, late, my apologies — the roads were blocked a while." Bram inclined his head slightly as he came in from outside.
"This will be Squad Leader Vance. Don't go yet, stay and talk a while. I hear there's been some misunderstanding between you and Draven. We can talk it out here."
*So the principal has arrived. Speaking up for him after all.*
Vance said it to himself, and sat back down.
Seeing his backing arrive, Draven took his seat again too, smiling.
"I don't think there's any misunderstanding between Division Commander Draven and me. There's nothing to talk about."
Vance said it straight out once he had sat down.
"Oh? No misunderstanding??" Bram looked at Draven, asking with his eyes what this was.
"There certainly is a misunderstanding — the thing I mentioned just now, that moment's foolishness of mine the other day. The reason I troubled the Chief to come was precisely so that he could see justice done between us and settle the misunderstanding."
See justice done? He was reaching for words like that now. Bram's arrival had clearly put the wind back into him.
"Ahem. That's all it is, then, a small misunderstanding. Why not leave it at that. Draven, apologize to Vance. You're in the same organization; there's no need to make it ugly."
Before Vance could speak, Bram had already spoken, and arranged it all on his behalf.
As the man was rising to make his apology, Vance stopped him.
"I said this is not a misunderstanding, and I don't need your apology. If you want this score wiped out, go through it once yourself. Live or die, the score is settled."
Vance was exactly as he had been, not yielding an inch, and no different for having an Elite-Four-class fighter like Bram sitting there.
Astonishment was written on Draven's face. What was the man thinking? Could he not see that the Chief himself was sitting right there? Even after all this, it still would not do?
Bram's expression was turning less pleasant as well. This young man did not appear to be showing him any courtesy.
"Now, Squad Leader Vance, you're going too far. As they say, better to undo a quarrel than to tie one. Why not do me the courtesy and let this go. A young man's vision and reach shouldn't be so narrow — open them up, think on a larger scale, and the road ahead will be easier walking."
Damn it, another one preaching the larger scale. The words came easily enough to him — Vance had all but lost his life over this.
And now that he wanted his revenge, they lectured him about scale??
And do him the courtesy, no less.