The air inside the hideout suddenly became thicker and hotter than the midday sun's glare, like parking attendants ready to brawl over a patch of asphalt. The armed man who had seemingly dropped from nowhere stood rigid, the barrel of his rifle aimed squarely at Rizal's head. The INTERPOL badge on his black jacket glinted coldly, a stark reminder that their lives had just been turned upside down yet again.Rizal slowly raised both hands, a gesture of surrender that felt foreign in the midst of this chaotic situation. "Okay, calm down. This can all be explained."Ucok whispered faintly, his eyes wide with dread. "Don't tell me we're suspected of being international terrorists. I swear, man, my only hobby is burning instant noodles, not burning down countries."The man labeled Interpol stepped closer. His gaze was as sharp as an ice pick, and his accent was strange, a broken mix of English and Indonesian, like a foreigner who'd lived abroad too long but still missed roadside nasi uduk.

Drip... drip... drip...The leaky pipe's water droplets echoed in the underground room, now a makeshift prison. The damp smell mixed with the clinic's failing perfume, unable to mask the scent of iron and sweat.Clack. Clack. Clack.Someone's footsteps approached, high heels hitting the floor like the relentless ticking of a countdown.Ucok sat leaning against the wall, his breath shallow. "If this is a dream, please wake me up with fried chicken."Nova glanced at Rizal, who was still staring at the dead screen where Kaspar's face had appeared moments before. "Bro... that voice earlier. Could it be...?"Rizal's fist clenched. "I don't know. But we have to get out of here before they—"BRAAAK!!The metal door burst open with a deafening slam. Two armed guards entered. Their rifles clicked ominously as they cocked them."Get up. Your time is up," one of them said in a flat tone.Ucok stood up with his hands raised. "Okay, okay, don't shoot. I'm still a virgin!"The guard frowned. "We do

In a world where oaths of loyalty are sharper than stilettos, the deadliest decisions often take birth in hushed whispers. But Ucok? He had his own way of defusing tension – his booming baritone and a miraculously ever-present packet of instant noodles.CRACK! Lightning tore through the night sky. Ucok nearly dropped the spicy noodle soup he’d somehow smuggled in. Nova, already half-crouched behind damp-smelling burlap sacks, kept her eyes peeled, scanning every shadowy corner of the dilapidated warehouse.The leather-jacketed figure moved forward from the gloom. His shadow stretched long, dancing eerily across the cold concrete floor. His hand slipped inside the worn leather of his jacket, producing something utterly unexpected – not the glint of steel, not the silhouette of a grenade, but… an ivory invitation card.“Thought we were at a wedding, Boss?” Rizal quipped, his voice low but laced with sarcasm, from behind a stack of rusty oil drums.The man tossed the card onto the floor

If blood could be washed clean, why do some still die from old stains?"Welcome to a new game, my friends."Ucok still remembered Kaspar's voice like a whisper from the grave. Cold. Full of promises of death.They left the clinic in the pre-dawn light that had yet to greet the city. Maya's pick-up truck sped towards Batu Ceper, to a place Rizal simply referred to as "the old laundry."Nova drove. Her face was tense. Rizal was silent, but his eyes were busy. As if replaying everything he knew. Everything he had just remembered."I don't like this place," Maya muttered.Ucok chimed in, still half-chewing on a lemper from a roadside stall near the clinic. "You never like places with history. Especially ones that smell like stolen fabric softener."Nova glanced in the rearview mirror. "We're not being followed. But I'm sure they know we're here."Rizal nodded. "That's why we have to be quick. Before they wash away the remnants of my past."The old shophouse looked deserted. Its sign was f

The echo of the blast hadn't fully faded as smoke choked the corridor of the stronghold. Rizal’s body rolled sideways, yanking Maya from the debris. Dust, embers, and adrenaline mingled into one choking haze.Ucok coughed raggedly, “This… this ain’t no infiltration no more. This is a damn slaughterhouse!”Nova kicked at a buckled metal door, pistol raised and ready. “We gotta reach the core room. If he’s still breathing, we finish him. If not—we burn this whole damn place to the ground, foundation and all!”Rizal pushed himself to his feet. Blood streaked his face, but the sharpness had returned to his eyes.“It’s not about living or dying anymore. It’s about who gets to survive as ‘me’.”Heavy footsteps pounded down the hall. Thump! Thump! Thump!From the swirling smoke, the figure materialized. A build like Rizal, but bulkier, clad in a tactical vest, a face a roadmap of old scars—and a single, malevolent red eye. A killer’s optic implant.“My name isn’t Rizal,” it stated, the voice