A cold wind swept through the dark alleyways, biting at Rohan’s face as he and Tyrianne look for any clues that connect the warning note to the sender. Rohan’s fingers tighten around the handle of his pistol, feeling the weight of it as he looks around the streets. “Rohan, you’re too tense,” Tyrianne whispers. “You need to stay clear-headed if we are going to find this person.” “Easy for you to say,” he mutters. Now that they have one clue to knowing who is sending the letters, he can’t help but get agitated. “Look,” Tyrianne says, pointing to a torn scrap of paper wedged between two cobblestones. It bears the same symbol that matches the one they had found on the back of the warning note. “That’s the same notes they used to send us warnings,” she adds. A street child told them where to find the same type of notes that are used for the message. The child added that he knows someone who received a huge sum of money just to deliver the notes. So, as they turn a corner, they discover
Finally, Rohan spots the abandoned train tracks and takes a turn onto a dirt road. The sun is setting. It’s about time for workers to leave the factory. He parks the car a safe distance away, grabs his gun, and watches the entrance. There are still lights flickering inside, even if most of the employees have gone home. “I hope this place is just a paper mill,” Tyrianne comments. They both step out of the car and approach the entrance cautiously. Tyrianne checks her gun, and Rohan also pulls out a small knife from his pocket. As they move closer, they can hear machinery whirring inside. Rohan motions for Tyrianne to stay back as he approaches the door. He listens carefully, trying to hear any movement inside. “Ready?” he asks, and she nods. He pushes the door open. The moment they step inside, they are immediately hit by the acrid smell of paper chemicals. The factory floor is dimly lit, with only a few overhead lights illuminating the area. Rohan moves stealthily, avoiding piles
Rohan’s next destination is the docks. As they reach it, they find a small crowd of people singing and dancing. He looks for a man with the description given by the boss. From the crowd, there is only one that fits Pablo’s description—a man in his thirties with black, messy hair and horn-rimmed glasses. He is on one of the tables, watching the dancers while drinking beer. Rohan glances at Tyrianne in the distance. This time, she agrees to be a lookout. She’s not far from the docks. With her with him, things always turn bloody. And Rohan doesn’t want violence when he’s amidst a crowd of people. Approaching Pablo, Rohan sits on the chair across from him and smiles. “Good evening, Pablo.” He snorts. “Why do you even know my name?” “Gertrude Mendoza,” Rohan states and, based on the smirk that plays on Pablo’s face, he already knows why he’s here. “We need to ask a few questions.” “Damn, even during my rest time, I am still going to be asked about my work?” he complains. He places a c
Rohan squats in a decrepit office building in front of Pablo’s office. In one of his food deliveries yesterday, Rohan slips in a couple of lavalier microphones, including a clip-on mic and a set of instructions. That way, the audio won’t be a problem. As Rohan watches, he hears a cacophony of clattering keyboards and ringing telephones. Another assistant is also barking orders to everyone. Employees, including Pablo, hunch over their desks, heads down, and trying to avoid eye contact with the prowling assistant–looking as if he is a lion stalking his prey. He shifts his attention to Pablo. Endless documents are before him, and he is already looking dead even before his shift starts. Long hours without pay and a constant barrage of insults. And Rohan wonders what else he can add to the list. “Look alive, Pablo!” the assistant barks at him. “Do you think you are paid to daydream?” He only glances at him and nods. Then he returns his attention to his work, with no changes in the way
The following weeks are a flurry of activities. They set their plans in motion. Rohan and Pablo help gather evidence against Gertrude, while Tyrianne snakes her way into infiltrating Gertrude’s inner circle. Although, Tyrianne looks all harmless, innocent, and sincere—it belies the fact that she can ensnare anyone within her traps.The door opens, and Tyrianne comes into his office. She is wearing a purple dress that reaches half her thighs. Her hair is up in a lovely bun and her heels are at least five inches high.Sitting on a couch, she removes her heels and starts to massage her feet.“Gertrude Mendoza has her fingers in a lot of pies,” Rohan informs her.“Right,” she says. Clearly tired and annoyed by the recent social event she had just attended.“How’s everything on your side?”“Bad. I didn’t see Clint at all. No one from Gertrude’s side attended the event too.”“A waste for the get-up?”“What?” she asks, frowning.“Well, you look pretty in that dress,” he comments, almost trip
There are two places that Pablo has mentioned to Rohan where they can look for more evidence. One is in a mansion, the other one is in a derelict warehouse looming before them.“Why did Pablo even think that this warehouse has evidence?” Rohan asks as he walks inside.This place is more than abandoned. Shadows dance through the shattered windows as he and Tyrianne pick their way carefully over the debris on the floor.“He did say that Gertrude’s allies are using this place to store incriminating documents.”“Without a guard?”“We’re not yet sure of that,” she answers.Rohan keeps quiet as they delve deeper into the crumbling building.“Over here,” Tyrianne calls softly, her flashlight illuminating a stack of dusty file boxes tucked away in a corner.Rohan joins her, his pulse quickening as he opens the first box. “Look at this,” he murmurs
Rohan and Tyrianne sit across from each other in a dimly lit room, sharing breakfast and visibly shaken. Dust fills the air and the slivers of light that sneak in from the outside illuminate the room. He shifts his gaze to her, and like him, her face is pale and drawn. He can see the worry in her expression, the same as what he is feeling now. Tyrianne breaks the silence. “How could it have been so easy?” Her voice is barely audible and there is a tremble in her voice as she speaks. Rohan shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he admits. “Do you think it’s a trap?” “But we’re still alive.” “A delayed trap, perhaps?” Still, Rohan feels like someone is laughing at him–as if he is being played around. “How safe is this place?” she asks. “You’re the only person who knows this place.” “I’m worried about my kids in the orphanage.” “I don’t think they would massacre them.” “Rohan!” she scolds, and she might not have noticed herself, but she just called him by his name. “Should I apolog
Without a moment’s hesitation, Rohan and Tyrianne duck behind the staircase as Jackson starts firing his gun. The bullets ricochet off the walls, sending dust and debris flying in all directions. The two huddle together, trying to come up with a plan. “We need to disarm him,” Rohan whispers, his eyes darting around the area for any possible weapons they can use. Tyrianne nods in agreement. “I’ll create a diversion. You sneak up on him from behind,” she says, before dashing towards the opposite end of the hallway. Jackson’s attention turns towards her, and he starts shooting in her direction. Meanwhile, Rohan takes advantage of the distraction and stealthily moves towards him. Just as Jackson turns around, Rohan tackles him to the ground, sending both of them tumbling down the stairs. The impact knocks the wind out of Rohan, and he struggles to maintain his grip on Jackson’s gun. They wrestle on the floor. He can feel his muscles straining from the effort. “You think you can take m