Weston looks at the man on the ground. His coming here is totally useless if he can't get the man to sign the damn letter.If the man dies without this letter circulating, it is easy for the cult to get another leader. So, what the hell is the gain if the fire burns this son of a bitch? Weston tucks the paper in his pocket. He drags the man outside. The whole house might as well burn down, but this man isn't burning until he (Weston) gets the letter signed.Before Weston manages to drag the man to the sitting room, fire already engulfs the kitchen. Weston kicks the man severally until life is desperately begging to say a goodbye to him. It's getting do damn hot now.“Either you sign the letter or not you're going to die, the amount of time and pain only varies depending on your damn choice,” Weston says. “I'm not signing any fucking…fucking…letter…” “If not for your stupidity, come to think of it, of what use is your

“Your bad for lying, dude. The CCTV recorded everything,” Weston says.“I'll see you in the cell. Probably…um…” he tilts his head sideways. “I should be able to bail you out.” He smiles at Weston, gets inside his car and drives off.Weston walks back to the car. He gets behind the wheel. “Guys, I'm going to jail.”“What?!” Santiago and Lorette shout at once.“What the fuck are you talking about?” Santiago asks.“The guy framed me up.”“You're not seriously trying to say you are going to jail when you know nothing—fuck!” Santiago grips the seat belt as Weston overtakes a car.“Lorette, can you help me find out where the woman and that girl are?” Weston asks.“What?”“Should I do it myself?” Weston asks.“No…but…you're kidding about going to jail, right? Just a call to the chief of police can clear all this mess.”“I actually want to see who the hell is going to come to arrest me. Also,

Weston glances at the cop. He smirks. “You should get a shave, sir. This look doesn't suit a cop at all.”The cop stares at Weston. He seems like he's trying really hard to get a comeback from that head of his filled with crime cases. He nods and looks away.“Murderers who aren't remorseful are my biggest buddies. Will put you in your place soon,” he finally says.When they get to the station, the first thing Weston expects that they do is to interrogate him, but hell no, they push him inside a damn cell. “You're finally where you'll get humbled,” the cop who handcuffed him says. Weston looks around the cell. There is a guy lying on the ground. At first, Weston thinks the guy is asleep but the guy sits up. He doesn't take his eyes off Weston.“You're cool?” Weston mutters.“I sure am,” the guy says sarcastically.Weston clears his throat and sits on the ground. The floor feels rudely hard against his butt. Rea

Weston glances at the guy. The guy's eyes are already closing in sleep.“I think you should sleep,” Weston advises.“Huh? I'm not feeling sleepy.” But his eyes say differently.“You're sure you're not going to be bored?” He asks later.“I'm cool,” Weston says.The next seconds, the guy rests his head against the wall and is snoring.Weston looks at the guy for a few seconds. He smiles. He sighs. His head automatically switches back to his problem, why he's here in the first place. Throughout the night, he thinks about his plan and how to execute them as soon as the day breaks.He must have slept off but he has no idea. He opens his eyes to the shouts that seem like some argument. “If you're tired of your job, bloody resign!” A voice bellows.“I told you, sir, he's crazy. He'll end up dragging us all down if we don't do anything about him,” another person says.“How could yo

One of them clears his throat. “Okay. We're sorry. Forgive us. At least, everyone makes mistakes.” “I'm counting to four, if you are still here on the count of four, you'll have yourselves to blame for whatever happens,” Weston says. “Why is it so difficult for you to forgive?” “One…” “Hey! Look, you don't have to treat us like beggars!” “Two…” “Alright, we're sorry. It'll never happen again.” “Three…” The three men glance at each other. At once, they fall to their knees. “Forgive us, please. We are very sorry.” Weston looks at them. He tries to calm his boiling temper. He bites really hard on his lower lip. He takes several deep breaths. If not for damn cops like this, his father wouldn't have said all that stuff about taking down some damn bad guys. He would probably—that's if he was born—be living a normal life