2025-03-05 23:06:35
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Cold-Blooded Barista Shadows of the Past
Rizal stared at Reza Alatas with sharp eyes. That name… Ilya Novak. It had been years since he last heard it.Ucok glanced at him. "You know that guy?"Rizal didn't answer right away. His breath felt heavy. His heart was pounding faster than usual.Leonard noticed Rizal’s change in expression. "Who is he?"Reza Alatas smirked. "Oh, so you really don’t know? This is interesting."Ucok tapped the table. "Hurry up and explain before I lose my patience, Bang."Reza sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Ilya Novak isn’t just a hitman. He’s a ghost. No official records, no fingerprints, no clear face recognition. But one thing is certain—if he’s after you, you’re already dead. You just don’t know when yet."Ucok chuckled. "Damn, that’s scary. So we’re fighting a ghost now?"Damar, who had been silent, stared at his tablet screen. "I’m trying to find info… but it’s true. There’s almost no data on Ilya Novak."Rizal clenched his fists.He knew why.Because Ilya Novak was a shadow from his pas
Cold-Blooded Barista Duel in the Alley
Rizal’s grip tightened on his gun. The cold metal felt familiar, almost comforting. Across from him, Ilya Novak stood unfazed, his smirk barely fading.The rain had started falling.Drip.Drop.The alley was dimly lit by a flickering neon sign from a nearby shop. The air smelled of damp asphalt and gunpowder.Ucok whispered, "Bang, are we really doing this now?"Rizal didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on Ilya.Leonard muttered, "This guy… he’s different."Ilya chuckled. "You always had good instincts, Rizal. But instincts alone won’t save you tonight."SHINK!In a flash, Ilya drew a knife.Not just any knife. A karambit—curved, sharp, deadly.Ucok cursed, "Shit."Then—Ilya moved.Rizal barely dodged as the karambit sliced through the air.SWISH!The blade grazed his jacket, cutting clean through the fabric.Rizal countered—BANG!—but Ilya twisted his body, dodging the bullet with ease.He’s fast. Too fast.Leonard fired—BANG! BANG!—but Ilya flipped over a trash bin, using it as co
Cold-Blooded Barista Countdown to Chaos
The room was dimly lit, filled with the scent of cigarette smoke and stale coffee. Rizal sat in the corner, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the wooden table. His mind was elsewhere—still replaying the fight with Ilya Novak in the alley.He could still hear the sound of the rain, feel the rush of adrenaline, see Ilya’s smirk just before he disappeared into the shadows.Ucok dropped onto the couch. “Bang, kita harus ngomong soal ini.”Leonard exhaled, tossing a bullet casing onto the table. “That guy—he’s no ordinary hitman.”Damar nodded, still staring at his laptop screen. “I checked again. Ilya Novak is a ghost, but Sundara? That’s a different story.”Rizal’s gaze sharpened. “What do you have?”Damar turned his laptop toward them. A list of high-profile assassinations appeared on the screen—business tycoons, politicians, cartel leaders. All had one thing in common: they were killed by Sundara.Ucok whistled. “So, they’re not just a small-time gang.”“They’re an international oper
Cold-Blooded Barista Inferno
The bass from the nightclub’s speakers pulsed through the floor like a heartbeat, drowning the room in a hypnotic rhythm. Strobe lights flickered, illuminating waves of bodies moving to the music. The air smelled of sweat, alcohol, and cigarette smoke.Rizal adjusted his black leather jacket as he scanned the room. This wasn’t just any nightclub—it was a front for Sundara’s underground operations. If they were going to get answers, this was the place.Ucok leaned in. “Jadi, kita cari siapa, Bang?”Damar tapped his phone. “Target kita namanya Vano.”Leonard raised an eyebrow. “And who’s Vano?”“Middleman. He handles Sundara’s Jakarta operations. If anyone knows about Adrian, it’s him.”Rizal nodded. “Let’s move.”They split up.Leonard took the bar.Ucok blended with the crowd.Rizal walked straight toward the VIP section.His heart was steady. His mind was clear.But something felt off.And then—BOOM!A sudden explosion shook the building.Screams filled the club as people panicked,
Cold-Blooded Barista Return to Bangkok
The city hadn’t changed. The neon lights still bathed the streets in a chaotic glow, and the air was thick with the scent of street food, gasoline, and rain-soaked concrete.Rizal stepped out of the black sedan, his jaw set. Behind him, Ucok, Leonard, and Damar followed closely.“So, where do we go first?” Ucok asked, his hands in his jacket pockets.Rizal stared at a tall building in the distance. “Adrian’s safe house.”Damar checked the map on his phone. “It’s in the old district, near the docks. If Adrian is really alive, this is where he’d be hiding.”Leonard nodded. “Then let’s not waste time.”They started moving.The building had been abandoned for years. Broken windows, peeling paint, and the damp air carried a metallic scent.Rizal felt déjà vu. Six years ago, this place had been his final battleground with Adrian.Ucok turned on a flashlight. “Bro, you sure he’s here?”Rizal nodded. “If he’s alive, he’ll come back here.”Their footsteps echoed as they moved deeper. The floor
Cold-Blooded Barista Blood in the Rain
The rain had started falling, washing away the scent of gunpowder but not the tension in the air. Rizal’s body screamed in pain, but he forced himself to keep moving.Adrian stumbled beside him, barely conscious. Ucok and Damar flanked them, scanning the dark alley for threats. Leonard covered the rear, his gun still smoking.They had escaped—barely.Ucok panted. “Bang, where do we go now?”Rizal wiped blood from his temple. “We need a safe place.”Damar checked his phone. “There’s an abandoned warehouse nearby. Five minutes on foot.”Leonard nodded. “Move. Now.”They hurried through the maze of alleys, their footsteps echoing against the wet pavement.The warehouse was dark, silent except for the distant hum of the city. Rizal kicked the door open and ushered everyone inside.Damar locked the entrance. “We’re safe for now.”Adrian collapsed against a crate, groaning. His face was pale from blood loss.Ucok pulled out a med kit. “I got this.”Rizal crouched beside Adrian. “Who kidnapp
Cold-Blooded Barista After the Storm
The city was quiet now. The gunfire had stopped, the fires were dying down, and the rain was washing away the blood on the streets. Rizal sat on a crate, pressing a cloth against his wounded shoulder. His body ached, but the weight on his chest felt lighter than ever. It was over.Ucok handed him a bottle of water. “Bro, did we win?”Rizal smirked, taking a sip. “We’re alive. That’s enough.”Damar checked on Adrian, who was still recovering in the corner. “This kid is strong.”Leonard leaned against the wall, looking at the body bag in the center of the room. “Sundara’s dead, but he was right. This doesn’t end here.”Rizal nodded. He knew the truth. Killing Sundara didn’t erase the enemies they had made along the way. There would always be someone waiting in the shadows.The team had split up, agreeing to lay low for a while. Leonard disappeared without a word. Damar booked a flight to Jakarta. Ucok planned to head back to Medan.Before leaving, Ucok patted Rizal’s shoulder. “I’m head
Cold-Blooded Barista Sundara
Rizal tightened his grip around his cup, staring into the dark liquid as if it held answers. His peace had lasted barely a few weeks, and now another storm was coming.Maya smirked, sipping her drink. “You don’t seem surprised.”“I stopped being surprised a long time ago.” Rizal’s voice was calm, but his mind was already moving fast. Who could be coming for him now?Maya tapped her fingers on the counter. “Let me guess. You thought killing Sundara was the end of it?”Rizal glanced at her. “You going to keep talking in riddles, or are you actually going to tell me something useful?”Maya chuckled. “Fine. Ever heard of a man called Viktor Ivanov?”Rizal’s expression darkened. Viktor Ivanov. The name wasn’t just familiar—it was infamous. A Russian arms dealer with connections across Asia, known for his brutality and zero tolerance for betrayal.And if Viktor was after him, that meant only one thing—Sundara had been working for him.Rizal and Maya walked side by side through the narrow st
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The Vertigo Agency
Jakarta hadn't recovered from the explosion at the international conference. The ruined building now stood as a silent monument: proof that VERTIGO wasn't just an underground organization—they were a rotten root growing from the very soil of the government.Ucok stared at the screen, his face more serious than usual. "I've cross-checked all the post-explosion aid logistics. There's a shadow company that was the supplier—the CEO's name... Arman Darsa."Nova moved closer. "Arman Darsa? Isn't he the chief commissioner of one of the state-owned logistics companies?"Ucok nodded. "And he went to the same military academy as Kaspar. They used to be partners."Rizal slammed his laptop shut. "We have a new target. And this time... we won't give him time to run."One week later – New headquarters, secret location beneath the Blok M MRT tunnelMaya projected data from her laptop onto the concrete wall. "Arman isn't just a supplier, but the operational mastermind of VERTIGO within the state. He
Jakarta Midnight
The explosion rattled the second floor of the dilapidated old building. Glass shards flew. The stench of gunpowder mingled with the musty aroma of old carpets and the sweat of armed men filled the air.Ucok was thrown backward, landing on a meeting table inexplicably still bearing sweet tea and donuts.“ARGH! Who put cockroach-flavored donuts here?!” Ucok yelled, wiping his face smeared with powdered sugar and dried blood.Across the room, Rizal knelt behind a pile of documents. His pistol was empty, and he fumbled in his vest pockets.“Nov! Reload!” he shouted.Nova tossed two magazines from behind a concrete pillar. “Come on, we can’t lose to these SARKA bastards!”Maya swiftly fired bullets, hitting one enemy shooter squarely in the helmet. TAP! TAP! The attacker’s body slammed onto the floor with a THUD!“Two more on the left! Light armor, aim for the thighs or neck!” she yelled.Ucok, who had only brought smoke grenades, shouted as he threw one, “A gift from big brother Ucok, lad
Bloody Revolution on Sudirman Street
The Jakarta night wind greeted them like an angry stepmother. The parachutes unfolded perfectly, but their control in the air? A big fat zero. Ucok screamed as he spun his body, "HEY! THEY DIDN’T TEACH ME HOW TO BRAKE THIS THING ON YOUTUBE!"Nova twisted her body toward the Semanggi Bridge. "Turn right! RIGHT, UCOK, NOT TOWARD MONAS!"Rizal pulled the stabilizing cord. "Relax... we've jumped from the moral state of this country. A building rooftop should be easy."Maya gritted her teeth. "If I die before I upload my clarification video, I’ll come back as a ghost, Zal!"Their landing was rough—it was more like being thrown by God onto the earth than landing gracefully. Ucok nearly crashed into the old bicycle of Pak Satpam, who was startled and immediately fainted."I’ll replace it later, Pak... with an e-bike," Ucok whispered with a guilty expression.Meanwhile, from behind the shadow of the bridge, a pair of eyes observed them. Not a drone this time—but a man in a light ivory suit, s
Hell in South Jakarta
If you want to set hell on fire, make sure you’re not the first one to burn.At 2 AM, South Jakarta’s streets felt emptier than usual. But for Rizal and his team, this city was more than just skyscrapers and neon lights. It was their next battlefield.Hidden behind a steel door in the basement parking of a luxury apartment, SARKA’s central base stood in eerie silence. No signboard, no guards in uniform—just cameras, a retina scanner, and a Doberman with a gold collar standing guard in front of the elevator.Ucok stared at the dog. “Bro, this... this ain’t the human world anymore. That dog’s richer than me.”Maya flicked on the signal jammer. “If we get in, we’ve got ten minutes before full auto-lockdown kicks in.”Nova slid on her comms headset and gave Rizal a nod. “We go in. Silent. Fast. Brutal.”The elevator doors opened. A sterile mix of antiseptic and metal filled the air. Soft classical music played—Vivaldi’s Winter. A perfect contrast to the bloodbath awaiting them.On the 13t
The Last Bastion - Blood or Throne
R-Zero’s automatic rifle erupted like hellish fireworks. Bullets rained against the steel walls, scattering sparks. Rizal dropped to the side, pulling Nova behind a server rack.Ucok tumbled behind a support pillar. “Why does every damn enemy we face have a fetish for shooting first and never asking questions?!”Maya returned fire. “Because this ain’t a romance flick, Cok. This is the mafia world. The slow ones get buried alive.”Dust, the hum of machinery, the shrill scream of the alarm. Rizal’s heart pounded in sync with the bullets thudding around them. On the other side of the room, R-Zero advanced slowly, its weapon still hot.“Rizal!” Nova yelled. “If he reaches the control center, all our data’s gone!”Rizal didn’t answer. He already knew. The world they knew was about to crumble. SARKA would slaughter anyone who refused to bow to the new system: a merciless machine, led by a faceless puppet.He rose. Two steps forward. Staring down his twin—his own nightmare made flesh.“I kno
Second Hand, First Blood
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
Heir Project
If your blood has a price, then every heartbeat is a debt.The soft thud of leather shoes echoed on the underground concrete floor. Above them, the world seemed serene. But below? Like the dark womb of the criminal underworld, a place where sin was fragmented into documents, and betrayal was placed in test tubes.Rizal stood before a room bathed in a pale yellow light. Inside—archives, genetic codes, and old videos of human experiments. A CCTV camera in the corner of the room pointed downwards, watching them like a small god assessing who deserved to live, who deserved a silent burial.Ucok whispered, “Bro, this place is like a mafia incubator. We’ve snuck into the womb of a giant organization. But… doesn’t it smell like expired embalming fluid?”Nova stifled a laugh, but Maya was serious. “Look at this file: ‘Heir Alpha – Subject Data RZ-17’. That’s the code for Rizal.”Rizal swallowed. Behind the screen, his face was printed there, with the status: "Active - Under observation - High
A Thousand Sins
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
A Thousand Sins
In the mafia world, a name can be currency, or a curse. But for Ucok? That name triggered amnesia because he stumbled upon archives he shouldn't have opened.Ucok sat frozen. All sound seemed to vanish from the room. His breath was shallow, his heartbeat echoed in his own ears.THUMP-THUMP. THUMP-THUMP.Ucok clutched his head. Memory fragments surfaced… like broken film reels.Flashes of light. An old warehouse. Dusty shelves.A black book, handwritten in red ink:"List of Sins: Operation Sarka"And on the back cover—one name:"UCOK"FlashbackUcok had long hair back then. And, strangely, he was thin.He accidentally walked into a raid at the harbor while delivering food. His intention was just to deliver a special fried rice without onions, but he went through the wrong door.CREAK.He opened a nearly collapsed container, its contents not ordinary contraband. But old documents, VHS tapes, and a black suitcase containing that worn book.He managed to open it, reading while eating. The