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When Jameson woke up, he found himself surrounded by darkness.
He tried to speak but realized his mouth was tightly sealed with tape. His hands and feet were bound, expertly and flawlessly, leaving him no room to move.
Ah...he thought. This precision, this efficiency—there’s only one person it could be.
As the trunk opened, an almost ironic sense of redemption washed over him. Amon-Ra stood against the light, his solemn expression eerily mirroring that of the sun god.He tore the tape off Jameson’s mouth.
“You sure ran fast.”
“And yet, you still caught me.”
“Not curious why?”
“They think only you can kill me.”
“You should’ve known this would happen when you betrayed us.”
“Yeah.”
“Any regrets?”
“It’s done.”
No matter what, he wouldn’t change. Jameson knew Amon-Ra understood what he really meant, the subtext behind his words: If I had to say it... maybe I just wanted to.
“You’re unbelievable... still stubborn to the end.”
“Why?”
“Wouldn’t donating to an educational nonprofit be more effective if you truly want to make a difference? Why?”
“If I had to say it... maybe I just wanted to .”
Amon-Ra recalled that snowy night after their mission, when Jameson casually handed his earnings to a kid on the street.
That was what Jameson had said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You’re... unique.”
“Am I really that unique?”
“In America, you’re European. In Europe, you’re American.” He smiled. “Amon-Ra, your life is the real rare one.”
“Even if you weren’t doing this, you'd still be straight.”
“My life is something you could never understand.”
“What do you mean?”
Jameson mimicked the motion of cocking a gun.
"My Glock on my lap, I’m just thinking smart.”
AmonRa let out a dry laugh. "No matter what, I’m glad I got to know you."
"How about we grab McDonald’s? My treat. Isn’t that your favorite?"
“Thanks, maybe next time. Got stuff to handle today. For real, appreciate it.”
Jameson stood up and bid him farewell. Despite his love for junk food, he was the lean type. Snow was falling heavily, and he was dressed in nothing but ripped skinny jeans and a hoodie, indistinguishable from the aimless street hustler loafing much all day. Amon-Ra watched as his figure slowly disappeared into the white night like a beast without boundaries, leaving him with a sense of loss.
Later, when Amon-Ra thought about that snowy night, it always felt like a snow globe—Jameson’s world was always snowing. At the time, Amon-Ra was standing outside the globe, watching, finding it all so novel.