This world is not a playground for kids, but a slaughterhouse for ostriches and pigs. Mooner knew what the first part was about but never understood the second part. Sure, as a vigilante, who fought evil every single day, he knew that evil existed but the second part always got him confused. The idea again popped into his mind as he looked through the building searching for 3A9.

Doad could hardly sleep last night. A part of the reason was, of course, Mooner and Detona but cleaning pigment off the sedan wasn’t something that won’t take a whole night to do. The big man lay on the bed awkwardly with black paint on his black jacket. He didn’t even have his shoes off, but just staring at the ceiling. The dirty white ceiling itself wasn’t attracting Doad nor was his past life. A world with no evil nor guilt was what he saw on the white ceiling. For an extremely short moment, the concrete above the bed fell and formed a stair for Doad’s soul to work through.

It wasn’t easy for Doad to actually fall asleep especially when he was still thinking about a brighter future and Sparkie Detona. In silence, he wrote down his message to take the day off. Hesitation froze his fingers before clicking “send”. Doad wasn’t a man with tough strength, but he was at least crucial to himself. Closing his eyes and pressing his thumb on the screen, he did it quick enough that no other thought could catch him. He didn’t open his eyes straight away but after he dropped his phone on the bed. Regret would probably enjoy his taste not even with some extra salt or pepper.

Getting off the bed immediately, he ran out of the room like escaping his own judgment. “50 percent of salary was nothing. I can survive with expired bread,” the thought was his only comfort for starving through the next month.

The morning breeze flew past his face while lifting up his hair tips. It is the same wind he met last night when he got out of the car, but at the time, the two masks blocked the wind and the music it carried. With his nose sniffing the flavor of fresh air, Doad could hear the music created by the wind tapping on his ears. His memory couldn’t reach far enough back to see if he ever experienced it when he was still a minor, but he did know that he could never meet such a zephyr in the office with that picky bastard buzzing like a mixed hybrid of bees and mosquitoes.

The man in the park forgot to look at this world with his eyes but to taste it with his eyelids. His name was blown away by the tenderness of zephyr. He couldn’t tell if he was freakily dancing among the tree or if he was just standing retardedly in the park. He was fine with both, and it didn’t, in fact, matter.

What did matter be Sparkie Detona and where ever that damn 3A9 was. Well, that was considerable compared with the name list in Mooner’s hand. Without his suit, Mooner stood in front of that giant department store and stared at his not-unusual wanted warrant, which was projected on the big glass wall of the building. The smell of his dirty shit-colored cape created an aura that blocked the crowd from approaching him. He was very neutral with those warrants on the wall because he knew he was by every means a criminal, but so did every other on the wall of the warrant. Staring at that glass wall was his daily activity so that he knew where was justice needed. Some on the wall were serial killers who killed more than 10 people. Some on the wall were financial criminals who bankrupted several happy families. Some on the wall were rubbers who raped girls and boys. Some were not on the wall but killed more than any single killer on the wall.

400 names on the list in his hand. Well, not actual names but numbers. Four full pages of numbers. No one walking in and out of the department store could tell what the hell was in Mooner’s hand. Even Mooner couldn’t tell if the paper in his hand were white papers with black words or just graveyards for innocents.

The document was found in Lab 3A9. The experiment was to test the newest explosive magic wand. The subjects were made from those who couldn’t cause a ripple in a cup. Sparkie Detona was one of the subjects. His number was 314, but who the hell cared?

The wanted warrants on the glass wall kept changing between different criminals, but Mooner couldn’t find a guy who killed more than 400. He tilted his head down with his eyes staring at the page. He knew what he had to do. Justice couldn’t be the only reason, but also vengeance. He stepped out and headed toward Beck’s Bark.

Beck’s Bark wasn’t a place for homeless beggars like Mooner. The restaurant owner would never let someone stink like that enter his room. In fact, he wasn’t really happy with Mooner standing in front of his restaurant.

“You poor mother-died beggar, won’t you find another place begging like dogs?” the restaurant owner with a nice suit shouted at that man in the shit-colored cape.

“I don’t beg. I just live,” the man answered with calm and carelessness in his tone. He didn’t even bother to turn his head and look at that madman behind him.

“Well, then die in a stinky pipe where your kind belongs.”

Mooner was too tired and haunted to listen to what that man was saying. He chose Beck’s Bark only because he once stopped a rubber in this restaurant. The owner was kind to him at the time. Guess cloth can shape a person’s mind. That was his only opinion on this crap.

A smell of zephyr approached as Doad slowly walked his way there. Mooner could tell it was him by the smell of him. Although, it wasn’t the same as last night. Everyone had their own smell. Aroma or odor, different but hard to tell.