Chapter Thirteen: Good Evening, Father

“The people outside have left,” Miles Morales said. “I just had this intense sense of danger, but now it’s gone.”

If Ophelia were a superhero fan, she would know that the Spider-Man from New York has a special ability called Spider-Sense, which helps him anticipate danger before it actually arrives.

It’s like the warning a game system gives players before a boss unleashes a powerful attack: ‘Dodge quickly! If you don’t, you’re done for!’ Spider-Man has avoided fatal threats many times thanks to this power.

Miles has this skill too.

Although he isn’t the well-known friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wearing the red and blue suit.

Mentioning his unique trait made Miles uneasy. He worried Ophelia might associate him with Spider-Man, and he didn’t know how to explain that, despite having the exact same ability, he wasn’t Spider-Man. But Ophelia merely glanced at him approvingly, her expression natural, as if she had never heard of the famous Spider-Sense.

Miles, an avid internet surfer who knew superheroes’ powers by heart, was speechless.

He would have panicked if Ophelia recognized Spider-Sense, but her ignorance made him even more uncomfortable!

What’s going on? Isn’t the New York superhero well-known enough here in Metropolis?

Ophelia, unaware, asked, “So, can we go out now?”

“…Yes,” Miles said, a little frustrated. “But we still need to be careful. The enemy could come back at any time, and they definitely have guns.”

Ophelia nodded slightly, clutching her ring for courage, and led the way outside. The hallway was carpeted thickly, so even heavy footsteps made no sound. Opposite the private room was another door, tightly locked. Out of caution, Ophelia didn’t dare try opening it.

Miles followed behind her. After a moment, he suddenly said, “Maybe you should go back. You’ll be safer in the room. I’ll explore the ship alone, and if I find a way out, I’ll come back for you.”

Ophelia raised an eyebrow and turned her head.

Behind her was no one, only Miles’s muffled voice: “I have invisibility.”

Wow, you really have a lot of superpowers!

Ophelia thought to herself, feeling a rare spark of fondness for this newfound peer, then shook her head. “No, we’ll go together. The sooner we leave, the better. I need to see my father as soon as possible.”

Miles, who often quarreled with his own parents at his age, envied her. “You have such a good relationship with your dad.”

“Uh, not really.”

Miles looked confused. Ophelia didn’t explain but instructed him to stay invisible and follow her as she cautiously moved toward the front of the ship. The cruise was small. After passing the private room, there was an oval-shaped lounge that could seat four or five people. From inside came the sounds of clinking glasses and music playing from a phone.

***

Ophelia turned and made a shushing gesture to Miles, crouching near the door to eavesdrop.

She felt the air shift as Miles crouched beside her.

Inside the lounge sat three burly men. Two had been involved in kidnapping Miles and his classmates. Now, while Gallo was on the second-floor observation deck, they quietly exchanged information. A scar-faced man ate his meal with a worried look.

“…What use are these kids? They’re all boys, no value on the black market. I heard one is even the son of a New York cop. Not that we fear the NYPD, but what’s the benefit?”

“Do you think you can guess what the boss is thinking?” said a young man with gray hair, smoking a cigarette. “Boys can be valuable in some places, especially private labs. Sometimes, when supplies run out and they’re in a rush, they pay top dollar. But those people usually don’t come to Metropolis. After all, we have ‘that guy’ here. Overall, I suspect the boss just had another crazy idea.”

“You mean he’s lost it again,” said the third man with a sneer, tapping his head. “I’ve always thought there’s something wrong up there.”

The three exchanged knowing glances.

The gray-haired youth stroked his chin and suddenly said, “Maybe it’s related to his upbringing—how many kids have ‘my dad’ on their lips every day yet want to kill him? I heard his dad’s crazier than he is. Crazy parents raising crazy kids isn’t surprising.”

“Oh?” The third man was interested. “I haven’t heard much. Who exactly is his father?”

“I don’t know much either. The boss once mentioned, maybe drunk, that he’s not his biological dad. The real father died shortly after he was born. Then his current foster dad found him, gave him a strange name, neglected him for years, and eventually dragged him to a strange city to start over. No wonder the kid resented him. But the fact that he can hold his own against our boss suggests his father is a big shot.”

The song playing in the lounge was ending, leaving a quiet air. The scar-faced man absentmindedly scooped some salad into his mouth.

“Whose father isn’t like that? When I was a kid, I had no food and cried from hunger. My dad beat me and poured boiling water on my head. My mom said I almost died. But I just grew up and beat him back. If it weren’t for Gallo being my boss… I’d say he’s a bit sentimental.”

The gray-haired youth was about to speak but suddenly pricked up his ears, turning his head sharply like a wolf toward the door, silently signaling his companions: Someone’s coming.

The other two exchanged a look, drew their weapons, and stood.

***

On the deck, the sky darkened, the sunset blood-red. It might rain tonight. A figure cloaked, hooded in black and yellow, slowly paced across the ship’s deck, holding a dim lantern to light the way.

If any living person had seen this, they might have been scared stiff. But Elias, nearby, was surprised: Where was the ambush? Where had everyone gone?

Since sneaking aboard, Elias had only encountered a deck cleaner sweeping. The cleaner knew nothing about the ship’s situation, claiming to have seen Gallo only once, a few days earlier when Gallo replaced Morgan Edge to receive cargo from Gotham at the West River port.

Elias did the math—that was when he had just arrived in Metropolis and was working as a henchman for the Black Gang.

But after collecting his pay, Elias had promptly reported the International Gang to the authorities. The Metropolis police, already highly skilled, won a decisive victory thanks to prior preparation and ambush, nearly wiping out the gang’s home base. Naturally, the planned transaction fell through.

Elias asked the deck cleaner, “Did anything go wrong during the deal?”

Under pressure, the cleaner revealed everything: “Yeah. Rumor has it that the bulk of the shipment either sank or was confiscated by the police. Only the cargo personally retrieved by the new leader Gallo arrived safely.”

“What was the cargo? Who was the seller?”

The cleaner shook his head repeatedly. “How would I know? It wasn’t from Gotham, that’s for sure. Came from New York.”

That was all he knew.

Elias, wisely doubting he could even recognize his own troublesome son, showed the cleaner a photo of Gallo he had brought from home. Upon confirmation that this was indeed the person they were talking about, he breathed easier.

Whether Ophelia was still on the ship remained unknown; the cleaner had no further information. Elias left the unconscious cleaner in a storage room and planned to search floor by floor.

Midway through searching the second floor, Elias heard a muffled gunshot from below his feet.

Though gunfire on a mob boss’s ship wasn’t unusual, thinking of his surrogate daughter made his heart race. He immediately searched for stairs leading to the first floor. Before he could pry open the locked passage between floors in the growing darkness, a teenager’s angry shout came from downstairs:

“Don’t come near her!!”

Elias lost patience. Using one hand, he snapped the lock and hurried down, calling out: “Ophelia…?”

His voice trailed off in a questioning tone as he realized the sound’s source was empty.

There was a speaker playing, broadcasting ongoing dialogue and fighting sounds.

“Ophelia… come to me!!”

“Watch out!”

“Bang—”

Elias walked over and yanked the power cord from the speaker, silencing the hallway.

Just as he prepared to advance deeper in search of clues, a long shadow fell from the passage connecting the first and second decks. Gallo Esposito leaned against the wall, holding a notebook. After checking off “main character has appeared,” he stuffed the pen into his jeans pocket and, like an ordinary high schooler just out of class, greeted Elias politely:

“Good evening, Dad… nice new clothes.”

No exaggeration: hearing that voice made Elias’s fist clench immediately. Logically, this was a minor, a vulnerable member of society who should receive some leniency from him. Besides, Gallo was quite likable—tall, well-built, with clean-cut short black hair, healthy olive skin, and three pairs of earrings on each ear’s cartilage. His bright blue eyes were wide and innocent, radiating youthful purity.

Yet Elias felt an instinctive irritation at the sight of him. After Gallo’s two sentences, his annoyance deepened. The lantern in his hand seemed to sense his mood and flickered ominously, casting an eerie glow across the ship’s cabins.