Chapter II
Several days after the end of the chaos-ridden , arrived. Prayers were offered at that time for the countless souls that had been taken by the without intervention from Christ. readings, Anointings of the Sick, passing hearses, funeral masses—these had been part of daily life for Guatemalans for some time now. Their lives were in disorder; families and relatives had been caught up in guerrilla warfare. News of horrific massacres carried out at Mayan villages began circulating. As long as the continued to fly the flag of rebellion against Guatemalan forces, would continue to be a part of daily life.
Fragrant smoke hung in the air as the pallbearers descended the church steps. A long procession of grieving families walked to the cemetery. Even with the exterminated, they remained vigilant for real bullets flying in from across the street.
The Speedwagon Foundation workers passed the solemn funeral procession, jostled about by the throngs of crowds as they walked the city streets. In front of the church was a market. Wearing a pair of sunglasses, her muffler, and a purple cape, Lisa Lisa looked over the market stalls, listening to J.D. Hernández’s report as he walked beside her. Lanterns, , and embroidery depicting the quetzal, Guatemala’s national bird, created a colorful backdrop. At this market, no raw meats or fish were on sale, and thus there was no stench in the air—only the fragrance of beans and freshly-ground maize flour. Women of all ages, from sweet to , were mixing flour with water, forming balls of dough, and then flattening them out by tossing them from one hand to another. After cutting out discs with oil cans, the dough would be cooked into tortillas on a charcoal-heated griddle. Lisa Lisa smiled only at the women who didn’t pressure the shoppers to buy their fresh tortillas, her expression not souring even when she was bumped into by passersby. She took in the everyday sights of the country she was visiting, strained her ears to listen to its sounds, and breathed in its scents.
“Even now that we’ve taken the killer in, the citizens are still anxious about the threat of civil warfare breaking out at any time,” J.D. said, continuing with his report. “Many are below the poverty line and can’t find jobs. People who want to stop living like strays are forced to seek asylum in other countries, but there’s the chance of dying a dog’s death and being eaten by the local wildlife either way… That’s the reasoning they gave me. That’s why they wanted to help rid the city of that fiend.”
“…That must mean those two have done quite the good deed,” Lisa Lisa replied. J.D. could hear a scolding to him and his comrades hidden in her words. Without help from the local boys, they may have never uncovered the ’s true identity.
“That’s exactly right. And I take full responsibility for putting them in danger. I had them get medical attention from the Foundation’s doctors, but they must want compensation or something. They’re asking to meet with a representative of our investigation team. I told them I would hear them out myself, but…”
“That’s fine. I’ll meet with them,” said Lisa Lisa. She began looking through the market for gifts appropriate for a hospital visit.
“But ma’am, we’re not sure what their demands are…”
“I’ve been wanting to meet them as well.”
The churches occupying the streets of Antigua all looked Catholic in architecture, but they were actually buildings erected in the 1520s. After burning the holy sites of the Mayan peoples to the ground, had used the rubble to rebuild.
The K’iche’ were the indigenous peoples of that time, a proud and brave group even among the other Mayans. They fought to the last man when the came to their doorstep at the Mayan holy city of Q’umarkaj. But when the few K’iche’ survivors were finally backed into a corner, Spanish missionaries took it upon themselves to teach them to love and respect the Christian God. “Believe in the Lord. Kneel before .”
This was a religious , a process carried out in colonial territories all over the world. The K’iche’ people stopped rebelling and gave in to their demands, pretending to make the sign of the cross while clinging to their own religion in secret. The hidden indigenous religion and Catholicism intermingled, in some cases even producing syncresis, making Antigua a mosaic of different religions. Even four or five centuries later, prayers in a mix of the K’iche’ and Spanish languages can be heard echoing from cathedrals. Some buildings contain altars with no connection to Christianity. In this city, it’s common to see aged couples come to a church to offer flowers and incense to Mayan shrines and pray in the K’iche’ language, then leave without offering the crucifixes and so much as a glance.
Some of those involved in the tragedy that had played out in front of the cathedral had K’iche’ blood flowing through their veins.
One of those people was the of Antigua, now confined to a cell…
Fabio Ubuh.
Fabio, an who had just turned 30, had been laid off from his job working at a dairy-processing . The Speedwagon Foundation had given Guatemalan police the rundown of how to safely keep Fabio in custody. In their analysis, they had concluded that Fabio’s ability to freely control the did not involve manifesting the themselves. As long as he was confined to a sterilized room with no ventilation shafts, he had no way of blowing the or committing criminal acts. As part of the terms of exchange, the Speedwagon Foundation was allowed to question the suspect. After a series of long visits from J.D. where the two did nothing but sit in silence, Fabio finally caved in and began to talk.
He and his younger brother and sister were raised by their mother in Chichicastenango, where he was able to receive an elementary education at a Catholic boarding school. But tragedy shattered his life — his family had offered refuge to guerrilla fighters, only to be rounded up by the same soldiers in the town square and massacred as a warning for the others. He came to believe that God was cruel and apathetic, ignoring the indigenous people’s cries for salvation. Fabio decided to sneak out of this cursed land. He gave a all of his money to smuggle him across the border, but was robbed of all of his possessions and left for dead a stone’s throw from his freedom.
After finding himself back in Antigua, Fabio was deeply troubled. “Why is this happening to me?” he wondered. As he was brought from the up to the , he realized just how much he despised the Christian iconography that filled the city. This was no different from enslavement on a ’s ! Fabio understood now. The money coming in from larger countries, the coup d’etats backed by the CIA, the neverending bloodshed—it was all because of these churches built on Mayan holy land. And when he found out, he was terrified. He believed the reason his family and his people were never saved is because they were praying to pagan gods—because they were still living in their world. So Fabio strove to annihilate the religion he had been forced into. Every time a holy day drew near, he rejoiced in his compulsion to destroy statues of saints and murder the believers who personified the religion he had left. All of these acts were accomplished with ““—
“Hang on a second,” J.D. asked at that point. “That name you just said… does it refer to the power you created, the religion you came up with, or is it a name you thought of for yourself after learning to control the ?”
“You’ll never see it, no matter how hard you try.” As he stared at the latticed window, Fabio began to laugh. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he did. “You’re just like the rest of them… You can’t see it, either. I’m the only one who can. And I can’t tell you much about something you can’t even see. You can’t understand it… You can’t… You can’t. It’s undeniable proof that I’ve evolved into my true self… A true idol for me to worship.”
He began to ramble in his excitement, rendering the latter half of his testimony practically unintelligible.
It was clear that Fabio displayed signs of hierophobia. The anger and hatred of a man who had lost his family and his future had transformed into urges for revenge, blasphemy, and destruction. As J.D. transcribed Fabio’s testimony, he scribbled “” into the file’s margins. Were these the hallucinations of a deranged man? A transforming split personality? An alter ego?
Upon hearing this, Lisa Lisa decided not to pass judgment just yet. Instead, she told him to focus on getting more testimony out of him for the time being. The important thing now was when, where, and how Fabio had acquired his ability.
“That -controlling bastard was K’iche’ too, wasn’t he?” When they visited the medical facility in Antigua, there was one more there. “I don’t know who the hell he thinks he is, but he’s an embarrassment to K’iche’ everywhere. I’m nothing like that murderous freak. I’m telling you, if those hadn’t attacked me, I’d have choked that son of a bitch out right there.”
“That would’ve made you a real .”
“Yeah, better me than that .”
“Hey, you ought to watch what you s—”
“Tell me, what was your name again?” Lisa Lisa brought her subordinate under control as she questioned the man in the hospital bed.
The descendant of the Mayans gave Lisa Lisa hints before he properly answered, offended that anyone in this town would be stupid enough to not know the name of a man as world-renowned as him. “I’m…”
“O…?”
“Oct…?”
“Octavio!”
The only person who cheered after Octavio finally unveiled his name was Joaquín. As the son of white and indigenous parents, Joaquín wasn’t an , but a . Despite having different bloodlines, races, skin colors, and eye colors, Joaquín and Octavio had been together from the orphanage to the streets. Now, they were still together in their working lives. Possibly due to their upbringing, they weren’t just childhood friends, but a duo that seemed inseparable, as if they were kin.
“So you’re the boss of Hernández and all these others? Really? An like you?”
Undeterred by all the men lining up at this woman’s beck and call, Octavio stared curiously at Lisa Lisa without a modicum of restraint. As part of Octavio’s compensation for working with them, the Speedwagon Foundation had offered its own doctors to attend to his serious wounds from the . They offered far better resources, quality of care, and surgeries than any normal hospital. Octavio’s impressive willpower was undoubtedly a factor in his remarkably fast recovery. After telling the investigators that he wanted to speak with their boss, he demanded as much as he could get away with. The investigators crowding the room were on edge, and J.D. was worried as well. In spite of that, Octavio spoke disrespectfully to the woman.
“If I’m not allowed to call you , what works better? What’s your name, ?”
“I am Elizabeth Joestar. You can call me whatever you like.”
“All these other guys call you Lisa Lisa. Can I call you that too?”
“I don’t mind.”
J.D. and the others were anxious—there was no knowing what expression she was making behind her sunglasses. She sat down in a chair next to the hospital bed without complaint and steepled her hands in front of her face.
Contrary to the impolite way he was speaking, Octavio was actually embarrassed with himself. His face betrayed his bewilderment at the way this white woman swayed her hips as she walked, brushed her silver hair from her shoulder like a , had a gorgeous body despite her age, and sat with her legs gracefully crossed.
How old was this ? She was obviously an older woman, but her mannerisms and demeanor kept him constantly second-guessing himself. Her elegant sitting posture was faintly seductive despite her age, and he found her magnetic. As a certain movie producer put it, she had “an eroticism only an older woman could have”. Just this taste of it at their first meeting was enough to fluster Octavio.
“Look, Lisa Lisa. How’d a lady like you, old and feeble and covered in spidery veins, pull that huge move off? Was it divine will that let you stop the just by kicking up the sawdust in those ? What are you all after, anyway?”
“I seem to recall telling you not to get too involved,” J.D. admonished him from his bedside. “We made a deal. You agreed to pull out of this as soon as the killer was captured. We appreciate what you two have done for us—that’s why she came to meet you face-to-face.”
“But seeing all of that got me all fired up.”
“Forget about it. And don’t let any other citizens know about it.”
“Hey, Joaquín doesn’t that put you on edge?”
Seeing Octavio’s expectant glance, Joaquín gave a grunt of agreement.
Lisa Lisa turned to look at him. “You’re the one who led Hernández through the passageway, aren’t you?” He didn’t have the same presence as his friend, but his eyes shone with the same curiosity about this .
“So you’re Joaquín… and you’re Octavio.” Lisa Lisa looked at both the youths in turn. “Is it hush money that you want, or would you rather learn the secret to my magic tricks so you can show off to your orphan friends?”
“That’s not it… What we want is…”
Octavio took a deep breath, and after pausing for effect, began to speak.
“We were waiting for this.”
With a seriousness that looked rehearsed, Octavio locked eyes with Lisa Lisa.
Joaquín grunted in agreement.
“We were waiting for something like this to happen. An opportunity to see what lies beyond the borders of this backwater town, this heartless, boring world… We’ve been waiting our entire lives. I don’t know what exactly it is that you people do, but you’re going after more people like that bastard, right? Don’t you fly all over the world solving mysteries, just like you’re doing here?”
“Right? You do, right?” A flame burned in Octavio’s eyes, and Joaquín was leaning forward with his eyes wide open. “I bet you never expected your informants to have a dream like this. But we’re not just gonna let you make us sit here with our hands tied like all the others. You can’t just pass us by like the rolling over this island city. You’ve given us this chance—just take us with you. We want to get out of here.
Have you ever thought about it?
The endless civil war.
The streets reverberating with the constant sound of gunfire and explosions.
The days where you could smell the wounds and blood in the air, the same smells of the .
The rotten youth we’re leading, plagued with worries about food, unable to make an honest living.
The utter lack of adventure and freedom I went through after climbing the ranks.
When the sun sets and the colors of twilight blanket the town, we climb a hill and watch the stars as they rise over the horizon. But we can only see as far as the horizon. The sky may as well be a dark, featureless wall. No matter what we hope is outside of Antigua, no matter what we believe in, the view from that hill may as well be all that exists. Have you ever thought about…
…how suffocating a life like that must be?”
Lisa Lisa assured him that she understood quite well. But even after listening to this story of Joaquín and Octavio’s poor circumstances, she was unswayed. “I’m afraid the Speedwagon Foundation doesn’t involve itself with humanitarian aid, and we don’t recruit local hires.”
“But—but don’t you have some kind of official test for people to join the Foundation? Joaquín and I are young and able-bodied… and even when Hernández pushed us away, we were more helpful than any of those other you hired! Please, just let us do an interview, or a test… anything!”
“Can you give it a rest already?!” barked J.D. “Didn’t you only take this job so that you could protect the city you lived in and bring the murderer to light?”
“That was it… until we met that man, Hernández. But when we saw what he was capable of, we talked it all over…”
Joaquín grunted in agreement. J.D. came up with a rejection in his superior’s stead.
“The power that man used has nothing to do with you.”
“Didn’t you praise me back there? You said I did a good job!”
“You were only useful to us because of the network of people you were working with.”
“Don’t look down on me, Hernández! You might have just chalked it up to me being a local, but that’s not the only reason we were able to help you capture that man. I’ve never told anybody about this before, but the truth is, Joaquín and I have special abilities like that, too…”
“Special abilities?”
As J.D. questioned that, the wrinkles between Lisa Lisa’s eyebrows gave a tiny twitch.
“It’s nothing as terrifying as that ’s, but maybe it’s because we’re who are very close to the gods… that we got these gifts. The two of us are capable of perceiving angels and demons, the evil and the righteous, and light and darkness with our eyes and our noses. We’re usually right on the money, right, Joaquín? So, I’m confident that we can serve some purpose to you, . Let us serve as an extension of your hands, eyes, and nose.
Lisa Lisa sat in silence with one eyebrow raised, as if she was questioning the veracity of Octavio’s claims.
Please let us join the Speedwagon Foundation… Please take us with you…
These boys were confident in their ambition, but she couldn’t grant their wishes. She was not one to bend the rules.
But she did allow her lips to form a smile, as if she had secretly picked up on the two teens’ worth, their resolve, and the fate they were burdened withーperhaps using that ability of hers, which reached far and wide like a ripple. She wouldn’t let them join right away. But she would subject them to a test. She would present them with a challenge.
Glossary