Chapter 7: Adjecented Fate

Indeed, the events unfolding in Sayon were about to take a turn for the worse. As Ban worked tirelessly to promote change and put an end to the Irish Whip's criminal activities, he inadvertently became a target of their wrath. His attempts to persuade families to abandon their illegal dealings had caught the attention of powerful figures, and Ban's hiatus for a week created a window of opportunity for them to strike.

While Joseph, Riff, and Meme enjoyed their fishing trip and camaraderie, Ban's absence left a void in the ongoing efforts to transform Sayon into a better place. The void was filled not with progress, but with the growing influence of those who thrived in the shadows. The very forces that Ban sought to dismantle were regrouping and reasserting their control.

During that week, a series of calculated moves were made by the Irish Whip to tighten their grip on the town. Their network expanded, and their operations intensified. Fear and intimidation spread like wildfire, as the community began to feel the suffocating presence of this underground empire. Ban's absence was a glaring opportunity for them to strike at his efforts and the hope he had ignited.

As Joseph, Riff, and Meme revelled in the joy of their fishing trip, the underlying currents of Sayon were shifting. The consequences of Ban's absence were far-reaching, and the challenges awaiting him upon his return would test his resolve and determination like never before. The tranquil surface of the town concealed a storm brewing beneath, and the path ahead would demand unwavering courage and unity from all those who dared to stand against the darkness.

Zechariah's first mission as a member of the Irish Whip marked a significant step into the shadows of this clandestine world. With a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, he carried out his task, the details of which remained concealed. As he retraced his steps back to the stigmatised property, a swirl of thoughts and emotions accompanied him.

The weight of this newfound identity settled on his shoulders, a stark contrast to the life he had known before. The echoes of his actions reverberated in his mind, intertwining with the memories of his friends and the camaraderie they shared. He had crossed a threshold, and now the path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.

With each step, he sought solace in the familiarity of the stigmatised property, a place where he had forged connections and memories with those who walked a similar path. As he neared his companions, he braced himself to confront the changes he had undergone, to share his experiences and to grapple with the choices he had made.

The excitement that welled within him was both invigorating and disconcerting. He had entered a world that demanded loyalty, secrecy, and a willingness to delve into the shadows. The balance between his old life and this new reality hung in the balance, a tightrope he walked as he ventured deeper into the heart of the Irish Whip. And as he finally arrived at the stigmatised property, he prepared himself to face the consequences, both expected and unforeseen, of his journey into the darkness.

Within the walls of the stigmatised property, Zechariah's footsteps carried him into a space that had been transformed. The once dim and neglected environment now held a semblance of order and care. A sense of intentionality emanated from the tidiness that surrounded him, a reflection of the collective effort to carve out a sanctuary amidst the shadows.

His observant eyes traced the contours of the room, taking in the subtle changes that had taken place. A small smile played on his lips as he appreciated the transformation, a testament to the resilience and spirit of those who frequented this space. The stigmatised property, once a symbol of desolation, had become a haven for those who walked a different path.

As he settled onto a worn sofa, a wave of contentment washed over him. The familiarity of the place, combined with the newfound sense of purpose he had embraced, created a sense of belonging that was both reassuring and empowering. With a leftover pizza in hand, he savoured each bite, allowing himself a moment of reprieve from the demands of his mission.

And then, as if carried by the winds of camaraderie, the voices of his friends reached his ears. Their tones held a mix of companionship and curiosity, a blend that drew him into the fold once more. With his heart filled with a combination of gratitude and determination, Zechariah readied himself to share his experiences, to contribute his part to the ongoing narrative of the stigmatised property, and to navigate the intricate web of loyalties and choices that lay ahead.

"There you are," Zechariah's voice cut through the air, signaling his arrival.

"What are you up to, Zack?" Riff's curiosity was evident in his question.

"Just finished a task that was given directly by Judas Iscariot. Luckily, I'm getting paid. But, I wish our buddy here got recruited as well. The wage is rad." Zechariah's words carried a mixture of relief and longing, his gaze shifting towards Joseph as he spoke.

Joseph pretended to laugh. He suggested to Zechariah to tell them a story about his mission. He added, "While you are here, why don't you entertain us with your story."

"Do you really want to hear this marvellous story of mine, be ready to be flabbergasted!"

"Enlighten me with your conte, I'm eager to get my hands on Judas."

Zechariah began to recount his daring escapade to his companions. "It's a mission to prove oneself to the boss, a test of courage and loyalty. The stakes are high, the risks even higher. That's what it takes to be recognised by them, to earn their trust and respect as a member."

As he spoke, the atmosphere in the room shifted. Zechariah's usually light tone grew more serious, the weight of the situation settling in. His friends exchanged glances, sensing that this was no ordinary tale.

"I don't like where this is going," Riff commented, his brows furrowing in concern. The joviality that had filled the air just moments ago seemed to evaporate, replaced by an undercurrent of tension.

Joseph leaned forward, his gaze locked onto Zechariah. "Zack, what kind of mission are we talking about here?"

Zechariah's revelation about his mission left a heavy atmosphere in the room. Riff couldn't help but voice his disapproval, "That is dumb, Zack. You would be putting yourself at such a high risk by carrying something like that."

Zechariah's expression turned resolute, his tone firm, "I had to do what I've got to do. We know that things won't always go our way."

Riff looked frustrated, clearly struggling with Zechariah's choice, but Joseph stepped in to mediate, "It's okay, Riff. It's a risk we have to take sometimes to gain their trust."

As the tension in the room eased slightly, Joseph's mind began to drift. He pondered his own role in the ongoing events involving Jika, and what his contribution would be.

"Okay, enough of this heavy talk," Zechariah said, attempting to lighten the mood. "Let me continue with a different story. Did you know that in Leng Kong Bashi, there's a crack den hidden among the buildings?"

Joseph's thoughts shifted, intrigued by the sudden change in topic. "A crack den? In Leng Kong Bashi?"

"Yeah," Zechariah continued, his voice taking on a more animated tone. "It's like a hidden underworld, right under our noses. Rumor has it that it's a hub for all sorts of illicit activities, not just drugs."

"I did not hit her."

"I did not know."

"There is one, to be exact, an old prostitution compound. Otherwise, Irish Whip wouldn't have the reputation as the largest drug-dealing family in Sayon."

"Yeah, that does make sense," Riff agreed, his tone somber.

Zechariah continued to recount his mission, revealing more details about the dangerous delivery he undertook. He spoke about the customer being an associate of Goda-Onna and Gatling Gaylord of Red Lights Night, painting a vivid picture of the chaos and close calls he had encountered. His voice carried a mixture of tension and pride as he narrated the story.

"We were on edge the whole time," Zechariah explained. "At one point, it looked like I was about to get caught. But one of Irish Whip's members who was with me took the risk and sacrificed himself. He lured the police away, giving us the opening we needed to escape. His bravery saved the whole operation."

Riff nodded in understanding. "So, instead of facing a drug trafficking charge, they turned it into a snatching incident to divert the police's attention?"

"Exactly," Zechariah confirmed. "We staged a fake snatching to throw them off our trail. It worked, and we managed to get away."

Joseph's brows furrowed as he pieced something together. "Wait, that tactic sounds oddly familiar."

After recounting the details of the successful but perilous delivery, Zechariah shifted the conversation towards a more unexpected topic. He mentioned that he had spotted Jericho and Yynn together in a cafe during his mission. His suspicions had been aroused by Jericho's behaviour and movements, which he found to be highly suspicious.

"Jericho is somehow involved in all of this," Zechariah declared, his voice carrying a weight of concern and determination. "I think you should approach him, Joseph. Keep your voice recorder ready, because I have a gut feeling that this whole thing is about to reach its climax."

Joseph absorbed this information, his mind churning with thoughts. Slowly, he rose from his seat and excused himself briefly, heading to a nearby water tap. He splashed cool water on his face and hands, the liquid soothing his racing thoughts. He used his handkerchief to pat dry, wiping away the traces of moisture before returning to his companions.

As he rejoined the conversation, his gaze was focused and resolute.

"You want me to beat him? Extort him? Or should I kill him instead?" Joseph ranted with a sceptical look.

The words hung heavy in the air as Joseph let his frustration and uncertainty spill out. His sceptical look mirrored his inner turmoil, a reflection of the conflicting thoughts racing through his mind. Zechariah's confusion was palpable as he tried to make sense of Joseph's outburst.

"What are you saying?" Zechariah inquired, his voice a mix of concern and curiosity.

Joseph took a deep breath, his gaze steadying as he met Zechariah's eyes. "Look, I've been thinking about this for a while now. We're in the dark, and it's clear that we need more information. Instead of resorting to violence or drastic measures, I'm going to take a different approach. I want to approach Jericho and collaborate with him."

Zechariah's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Collaborate with him? But why? He could be involved in all of this."

"Exactly," Joseph replied, his voice firm. "If Jericho is genuinely concerned about Yynn's safety, he'll have a vested interest in getting to the bottom of things. By working together, we can pool our resources, our information, and our efforts. I'll try to appeal to his better nature, to convince him that joining forces is the best way to ensure Yynn's safety."

Riff chimed in, his tone contemplative. "It's a risky move, Joseph. Trusting Jericho is a big leap."

Joseph nodded, acknowledging the risks. "I know it's a gamble, but we can't keep stumbling in the dark. We need to take bold steps to uncover the truth, and this could be our best shot."

Zechariah's laughter rang out, a mix of disbelief and amusement at Joseph's unconventional proposal. "Come on, man, that's not you at all. I've known you for nearly a decade, and you're not exactly the type to team up and share the reins. You're more of a lone wolf, and we know it."

Joseph's lips quirked into a wry smile. "You might have a point there. But consider this: whether Jericho confesses that he's genuinely trying to help Yynn or admits to being involved, it won't matter much. By that point, we'll likely have gathered enough evidence to make our case."

Zechariah's scepticism didn't waver. "Proof or not, I just don't see you letting anyone else inside your head like that."

"You know what, Zack? You're absolutely right," Joseph conceded with a chuckle.

Riff observed the banter between his friends, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He had always known them as a united trio, bound by their shared experiences and camaraderie. But this moment felt different, like a glimpse into the shifting sands of their dynamics.

The boys were ready to execute the next step to their scheme, 'Faith'. The end seemed closer as their thoughts flew over their heads. Joseph seemed sceptical about Zechariah's plan and for Riff, he could not believe what he saw. Riff was sure that both of them do not have bipolar disorder. Both of the actions of his buddy, the mindset of them somewhat changed. It all started with Joseph's rant. "Jo has always been a great mastermind behind most of our plan, I. . . I'm the wisdom to it, and Zack is the muscle. But why Zack is so assured of himself that he wanted to fasten the pace of this mess." Riff seemed to take side with Joseph, he never saw Zechariah acting so colourless despite of his antics.

Riff's internal monologue echoed his growing unease. The once-familiar roles of their trio had begun to shift, leaving Riff grappling with a sense of dissonance. He had always been the voice of reason, the one who carefully weighed their options. Now, confronted with this new facet of Zechariah's determination, he found himself questioning the very foundation of their partnership.

Five days before Ban Sukpimai's awakening, the boys entered their school with a shared mission in mind – to confront Jericho. Joseph initially approached Zechariah, hoping to enlist his support for this endeavor. However, Zechariah declined, citing compelling reasons. Undeterred, Joseph found a willing partner in Riff, who joined him to bolster their efforts in taking on this challenge. The school day began, carrying with it an air of anticipation and uncertainty.

As the school day progressed, things appeared to be proceeding smoothly. However, a notable absence was observed – Ms. Moonchapat was nowhere to be found. Joseph's attention was not initially drawn to her absence, as there was no mathematics class scheduled for the day. It was only when Rangkasukra Hangkutai, the class president, informed Joseph of Ms. Moonchapat's absence that he became aware of the situation. The puzzle of her absence added an additional layer of curiosity to their day.

In the corridors of Mirian Hospital, an unexpected reunion was taking place. Ms. Moonchapat, an old friend and a former lover of Ban Sukpimai, had come to visit him. Their paths had crossed again, and the circumstances were far from ordinary. Ms. Moonchapat had just finished her grocery shopping when she stumbled upon the injured Ban Sukpimai. The sight of him, battered and hurt, spurred her into action. With determination, she called for an ambulance and set about assisting Ban Sukpimai.

Despite his injuries, she didn't hesitate to lift his body, step by step, determined to carry him to safety. Her commitment was unswerving, and she pressed on until they reached the main road near the beach. There, with patience and resolve, she waited for the ambulance to arrive. The tale of their reunion and her valiant efforts would soon become a part of their shared history.

Amidst the hospital environment, a young woman's voice cut through the air, addressing Ms. Moonchapat. "Ms. Moonchapat, you're here."

Turning to the source of the voice, Ms. Moonchapat recognized Ms. Donatelli. "Ah, there you are, Ms. Donatelli. How's Ban? Has there been any improvement?"

Ms. Donatelli's demeanour was a mix of professionalism and reassurance. "He's still unconscious. You needn't worry; we're administering the best treatment for his injuries, with the aim of facilitating a swift recovery. However, rest is crucial at this point. We can't rush his body into a rapid response."

Ms. Moonchapat nodded, understanding the situation and placing her trust in the medical professionals attending to Ban Sukpimai.

"I understand. Please give your best effort, and I'd like to have a moment to check up on him."

With those words, Ms. Moonchapat made her way to room 3-3 where Ban was resting. As she stood by his side, memories flooded her thoughts. She reflected on the night he had been gravely injured, and how circumstances had prevented her from being there for him sooner. Yet, despite the challenges, she felt grateful to be able to see his face again after all this time.

Gazing at Ban's unconscious form, she couldn't help but recall the moments they had shared, the bond they had formed. The hospital room was filled with a mixture of emotions – hope, nostalgia, and a deep desire for Ban's recovery.