Chapter 97: Rest in Peace - part 4

In the footage, you mercilessly killed an agent who was supposed to be your colleague, your face splattered with their blood.

…And that woman had the same face as my little sister.

I couldn’t stay calm. I immediately pulled strings to have you assigned under me as my subordinate. I wanted to keep you close at hand.

I even went through the trouble of informing the Boss, but all he said was "I see." From that moment on, I didn’t trust him much. He kept too many important things to himself… there was no way I could trust him.

I secured a position as the one in charge of educating "Redcap."

And then, I gave you the suit. A crimson mask worthy of the name Redcap, along with top-quality protective gear.

I even made sure to hand you assignments so that the other executives wouldn’t grow suspicious. …Do you know why you killed fewer civilians compared to others?

Because I didn’t want you, in my sister’s body, to do such things. I didn’t want you to become a sinner like me, stained with blood. But at the same time, "Redcap" couldn’t be ignored by the rest of the organization… so I arranged for you to deal with criminals first and foremost.

As much as possible, at least. Witnesses still had to be silenced… as did enemies.

I convinced myself that was inevitable. Even if it was always you who had to do the killing.

---

"So, what you’re saying is… I killed people because of your orders."

"…Because of you."

Faces, names, voices of the ones I’ve killed rise up in my mind. The nausea reaches my throat, but I force it down.

Instead, words come out.

"…Tinkerer, do you hate me?"

"Don’t you hate me, instead?"

Even as we aim our guns at each other, neither of us pulls the trigger. I can’t… because a part of me thinks it’s fine if I die here.

As for why Tinkerer doesn’t shoot… is it because he doesn’t want to harm his sister’s body? …No, if that were true, then why hand me over to S.H.I.E.L.D.?

"…Maybe you should wait until you’ve heard everything before answering."

---

I kept sending you on missions… for years.

Through my own network, I came to know the name of a certain hero.

Spider-Man… the hero my sister once admired. Just as the Ancient One said, my sister’s delusions turned out to be real… she could even see into the future.

I grew curious and looked into him… but he wasn’t much of a hero. Just a small-time busybody who helped people around town when they were in trouble. Someone whose identity I could uncover with a little digging.

A tiny spider, not even enough to be the organization’s enemy.

But still, the fact that my sister admired him… kept nagging at the back of my mind.

And then, a year ago.

When Punisher destroyed your temporary base… I thought it was the perfect chance.

The Ancient One had said your memories were "erased." And indeed, you didn’t remember. But I feared that something might one day trigger them to return.

Your brainwaves were being collected through the red mask I had built.

And whenever you met someone with special powers… especially heroes, your brainwaves grew unstable.

I didn’t understand the mechanics, but I thought—if your brain were stimulated, maybe your lost memories could return.

That’s why I relocated your base to Queens, where Spider-Man lived. And I even made sure you attended the same school as Peter Parker—Spider-Man’s true identity—down to being in the same class. I was also the one who designated the room next to his as your base.

And just as I expected… no, sooner than I expected, the two of you made contact and began to interfere with each other. Watching that, I found myself wanting to see it for myself. To see with my own eyes the girl who bore my sister’s face.

When I had your suit upgraded, I summoned you.

I told you to keep your mask on, to keep your identity hidden. Even though your memories were gone, I still felt uneasy. …Ah, no. Maybe I just felt I had no face to show you.

At any rate, I made some excuse, cornered you, and forced you to remove the mask—

"…Satisfied now, Tinkerer?"

My mind froze for an instant. I already knew it was my sister’s face… her body. Her voice, too.

But seeing it in person was… different from a video or a photograph.

It felt as if I was being accused of my sins. Everything I had done until then… was unforgivable. I felt certain my sister would never forgive me.

The guilt weighed on me so heavily that I ended up making you suspicious of me.

…But still, I had resolved to do what needed to be done.

---

"That electronic measurer I gave you back then."

Tinkerer picked up the circular, ring-shaped device that had been carelessly left on the desk.

"This doesn’t just measure body size… it can scan through the body to obtain data on veins, bones, muscle fibers, organs—everything."

He set the ring back down on the desk.

"With this, I could even create a complete replica of you."

In my mind, I saw a lifeless doll… one that looked exactly like me.

"…That L.M.D., the Life Model Decoy?"

"Yes. I created it using the data from back then… though at the time, I hadn’t actually planned on making it."

---

I was trying to draw out the personality of my sister from within your mind and overwrite you with it. I believed that doing so would bring her back.

Erase everything except the memories of the time we lived together as a family, and she would become the same sister as before… or so I thought.

But even after collecting all the data from your brain, I found no clue.

…Do you remember the Jersey Mafia? Do you know why Spider-Man managed to arrive in time? Because I leaked the information to the police and allowed him to intercept it. Of course, the officers themselves were killed before they ever reached the scene.

Through such stimuli… you hid from the organization and fought the Lizard, all for the sake of saving Spider-Man.

That was when I realized for the first time. You admired Spider-Man too.

When I cornered you then, you wore that troubled expression…

Back then, I had summoned you for the purpose of passing sentence on you.

And yet… I could no longer bring myself to kill you.

I couldn’t see you as my sister. But even so… even if you were someone else entirely, I still came to care for you.

It wasn’t sympathy for your appearance that mirrored hers. I came to sympathize with the personality that resembled my sister’s within you.

I could no longer lay a hand on you.

---

"That’s why I created your L.M.D. A Life Model Decoy made of organic matter… as close to human as possible."

Tinkerer gave a weary smile.

"…By restoring your memories into the L.M.D., I thought I could keep both you and my sister at once."

His gaze dropped.

"While you were fitting the suit, I scanned your brain. The technology of the future is amazing, you know? Within an hour, I could even take a full backup of your memories."

I recalled the strangely long, drawn-out suit-fitting process.

"But no matter how deeply I analyzed, my sister was nowhere to be found…"

Tinkerer’s expression twisted.

"Mission after mission, countless times I tried to stimulate your memories… and still she never returned."

"……"

"Of course not. What I thought were 'recollections' weren’t dormant memories reawakened. They were entirely new ones, drawn out from another universe."

…I bit my lip. He had tormented me… but I had tormented him as well.

"My sister… just as the Ancient One said, had been erased."

Tinkerer’s eyes were clouded. So much so that I could no longer see into them—evidence of unfathomable suffering.

"…What’s lost can never be regained. It was simple, obvious… and yet."

He let out a deep sigh.

"…Tinkerer."

"Well? I’m nothing but a rotten human being, am I not?"

"…Yeah."

After wrestling with it, I gave a firm answer. Satisfied by my reply, Tinkerer smiled.

"Don’t you think I’m the kind of man who’s better off dead?"

"Yeah."

At that affirmation, Tinkerer gave a powerless smile. …I closed my eyes briefly, then opened my mouth.

"But—"

I opened my eyes, looking straight at Tinkerer.

"I’m grateful to you, Tinkerer."

"…Is that so?"

"Whatever you thought, whatever you believed… you were the one who pulled me out of hell."

From that white room where life was nothing but killing… you gave me private time, and even a chance to make friends.

I have no reason to hate you.

At my words, Tinkerer furrowed his brows.

"…That’s not the kind of reply I was hoping for when I told you all this."

"If that’s the case—"

I paused for a moment before speaking.

"Why did you give me a dress?"

I recalled the black casual dress. The same one I had worn when I parted ways with Peter.

"…Does it matter?"

"Why did you give me time off?"

During the summer vacation, he deliberately withheld assignments. Thanks to that, I was able to go on a trip with Peter and the others.

"…Does that matter either?"

"Why did you save Herman? Why did you try to protect me?"

"……"

"Why show kindness? Why care? Why do any of it?"

I hurled question after question at him. But deep down… I already knew the answer.

"…What are you trying to say?"

"It’s not meaningless, Tinkerer. You—"

"Wrong."

Tinkerer shook his head.

"I only ever projected my sister onto you… I’m not the gentle man you think I am."

I lowered the gun I had been pointing at him. I never intended to fire anyway… so the gesture itself meant nothing.

I simply didn’t want to point a gun at him anymore.

"In that case, pull the trigger now, Tinkerer."

"……"

"Shoot me and run."

Tinkerer’s face only hardened, but he didn’t pull the trigger. Seeing that, I gave a small, derisive laugh through my nose.

"That’s your answer, isn’t it?"

There was no reply. Silence itself was confirmation.

"…Yeah. I’ll admit it."

So instead, I asked him in return.

"Tinkerer, what about me? I’m far more of a 'person who’d be better off dead' than you’ll ever be."

With a bitter smile, I stepped back.

"I’m a being that attracts threats, aren’t I?"

"……"

"Just by living with these memories, I spread misfortune to everyone around me, don’t I?"

"No… that’s wrong."

Tinkerer shook his head. His clouded eyes fixed on me.

"I’ve lived so that I’ll never again lose someone precious to me because of my own weakness… That’s what I can say now."

At those words, I gave a small nod.

"Tinkerer."

"I want you to live."

"…Me?"

"You don’t have to be the same as my dead sister. Even if you bring calamity to the world… I’m a villain, that doesn’t matter to me."

Tinkerer raised his gun toward the ceiling. And smiled.

"…You aren’t my dead sister."

"That’s right."

"But… you’re still my sister."

"…Is that so?"

I tilted my head slightly.

"I can have two sisters. That’s fine with me."

Tinkerer gave a faint smile. Weak, but relieved.

"You’re different from the sister I lost… but you’re still my sister."

"…But—"

"That’s only from my perspective. You don’t have to think of me as your brother."

At his words, I furrowed my brow… but still, I didn’t deny him. I felt that I mustn’t.

Satisfied, he nodded… and then spoke.

"My real name is Franklin Watson. My father’s name was Philip, my mother’s Daisy."

The abrupt confession caught me off guard. I didn’t know how to react. I didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

"My sister’s name is… No, never mind. You have your own life… there’s no need to be shackled by mine. But I want you to remember that such a person existed."

Saying that, Tinkerer smiled.

I couldn’t grasp the meaning… I opened my mouth to speak—

"You can do whatever you want with my corpse… if it helps you live, anything goes."

"…What are you saying?"

His words froze my thoughts.

Tinkerer raised the handgun in his hand… and aimed it at his own head—

"Stop—!"

"Live a happy life… Michelle Jane."

The sound of a gunshot.

Slowly, before my eyes, he collapsed.

Blood sprayed. Brain matter…

A crimson flower bloomed across the wall, and his body fell to the floor.

The hand I reached out never made it… only grasped at empty air.

Suddenly, silence.

The man who had been speaking so playfully just moments ago no longer spoke.

Only the faint, grating hum of some machine echoed in my ears.

"E—ah…"

He didn’t move.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t smile.

No more sarcastic remarks for me.

No more kindness, either.

"Ha… ha… n-no… wh-what…?"

My vision was painted with a red too beautiful, and my breath came in ragged gasps.

"Why… Tinkerer, why… why?"

I couldn’t make sense of it.

Why did he have to die?

No— I understood.

I just didn’t want to accept it.

Because his corpse… was something I needed.

"For me… for your sister… for me… why…?"

Tinkerer had called me his “new sister.”

Even though we shared no memories together.

Even though I’m a being that brings nothing but trouble to the world.

Why did Tinkerer have to die?

Just so I could survive? Just so I wouldn’t have to kill him myself— by his own hand?

"…No, no, that’s… that’s…"

Live happily?

I don’t deserve such a thing.

But to deny it… would that not be trampling on his final wish?

…No. That’s not it.

Tinkerer would never do something like this without reason.

That’s right. No. No, no, no!

"This… this is an L.M.D., right? A Life-Model Decoy! You can hear me, can’t you, Tinkerer?!"

I looked around… but there was no sound.

Only a silence so cruel it suffocated the room.

"…Tinkerer?"

I knew the truth.

This was real.

If it were fake… there would be no point in doing this just to make someone like me grieve.

Tinkerer despised pointless things.

And if he were going to attempt it, he would have spoken to me about it first.

That’s why… I already knew.

This—this body before me—

"…Ah… ahh…"

It was real.

"…………"

Holding back the feeling that I would collapse to my knees, I stepped closer to Tinkerer.

…He was smiling faintly.

I used my hand to close his eyelids.

He was dead, as if asleep.

He was probably a man who deserved to die.
…But could someone die for this reason?

To die for someone like me.

That…

"Die for someone like…?"

No.

Impossible.

It’s wrong.

It’s not normal.

Bodily fluids sprang from my tear ducts.

My throat burned.

I coughed.

"…Live, live… or whatever."

Live happily?

"…I can’t bear it…"

Guilt gnawed at me.

I wanted to die. I wanted it all to end.

Everything.

But I couldn’t die.

If I died, Tinkerer’s life would be wasted.

Not just Tinkerer.

All the lives I had killed, all those I had used as stepping stones… they would be wasted.

But I should die.

But I cannot.

But… but…

"I have to… live…"

…I drew a knife.

The organization had instructed me to bring Tinkerer’s head.

I pressed the knife against Tinkerer’s—what had been Tinkerer—body.

The poorly maintained blade, dulled and chipped, could not cleanly cut through skin and muscle. It only tore and shredded.

I pressed.

I pulled.

Pressed.

Pulled.

I pulled and pressed, pulled and pressed.

The sensation of tearing, of flesh ripping, lingered in my hands.

…Eventually, Tinkerer’s head separated from his body, and I… cradled it.

Even when I had seen corpses before, I had felt nothing.
They had never been truly important to me.

This… this pain, this grief…

Tinkerer—he had been important to me, I had simply not realized it.

It was as if I had killed someone dear.
I had desecrated his corpse.

…The sensation remaining in my hands made me—

"Ugh—"

I vomited.

"Ugh… eh… guh… haah…"

Tinkerer’s head rolled across the floor, smeared in the blood that had pooled there.

Blood, tears, and vomit mixed together.

"Hah… hah… ugh… cough!"

My breaths came in ragged gasps. I coughed violently.

I wanted to die… but I couldn’t take my own life.
Tinkerer had wished for me to live.

It was a curse.

A curse that would not let me choose death easily.

"Someone…"

So all I could do was hope for it to come from someone else.

"Someone… someone…"

Someone who could end me.

"Kill me…"

Someone who could end everything in me, and set me free.

I had been searching.