Chapter 8: An Old Civilisation

"Hey, are you awake?"

Joseph slowly opened his eyes, his thoughts transitioning from dreams to reality as he heard Riff's voice. He nodded in response to Riff's words, a mix of determination and anticipation filling his gaze.

"Yeah, I'm ready," Joseph replied, his voice laced with a sense of purpose. The moment they had been working toward was finally here, and he could feel the weight of their plan resting on his shoulders. "Today is the day we will be confronting Jericho, get your gears ready." As he sat up, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited them in the confrontation with Jericho, and how their carefully crafted scheme would unfold.

Under the veil of the afternoon sun, Joseph and Riff moved with calculated precision. They had meticulously planned every step of their mission to capture Jericho and bring him to the old warehouse. Their determination burned like a steady flame, driving them forward.

Jericho was known for his routines, and the boys had studied his habits carefully. As the sun cast long shadows across the streets, they saw their opportunity. Jericho had just left a local cafe, lost in thought as he walked the familiar path home.

The duo blended into the crowd, keeping a discreet distance as they followed Jericho. Their hearts pounded in rhythm with each step, their adrenaline spiking with the anticipation of their plan in motion. As Jericho turned down a quiet alleyway, Joseph and Riff exchanged a knowing glance. This was the moment they had been waiting for.

With a swift and practiced move, Riff veered ahead, his steps silent as he slipped into the alley, effectively cutting off Jericho's path. At the same time, Joseph moved closer from behind, his presence unnoticed in the bustling city soundscape.

Jericho paused, sensing something amiss. Before he could react, Riff emerged from the shadows, his voice firm and commanding. "Jericho, we need to talk. Don't make a scene."

Surprise and alarm flashed across Jericho's face, his eyes darting between Joseph and Riff. His initial instinct seemed to be resistance, but the determined expressions on the boys' faces gave him pause.

Joseph stepped forward, his gaze locking onto Jericho's. "We know about your involvement, Jericho. You can't hide anymore."

Jericho's jaw clenched, his inner struggle evident. He weighed his options, his mind racing to find a way out. But the weight of the evidence and the urgency of the situation bore down on him.

Reluctantly, Jericho nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly in defeat. "Fine. I'll come with you."

The tension in the air remained palpable as they made their way to the old warehouse. Every footstep echoed with the weight of their purpose, their determination unwavering. The afternoon sun cast long shadows, a stark reminder of the secrets that had been hidden for far too long. As they entered the warehouse, its creaking doors closing behind them, the stage was set for the final confrontation.

The old warehouse stood silent, its walls seemingly holding the weight of anticipation as Joseph and Riff confronted Jericho, their plan hanging in the balance. With Jericho before them, their breaths were measured, their determination unwavering. It was a showdown of wits, a high-stakes game with a confession as the ultimate prize.

Jericho's eyes flickered with a mix of confusion and defiance, his body language reflecting his discomfort at being ambushed. He remained silent, his gaze locked on the two boys who had managed to corner him.

Riff stepped forward, his voice steady and resolute. "We know about the incident, Jericho. And we have to prepare for the evidence. It's in your best interest to confess."

Joseph's eyes bore into Jericho's, his tone stern. "We've been playing this game for too long. It's time to put an end to it. Your confession can save lives, including Yynn's."

Jericho's expression remained inscrutable, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. The weight of their words hung in the air, the tension almost palpable. It was a battle of wills, a standoff between truth and secrets, and the outcome would determine the course of their future.

"And how could I help you with that?" Jericho asked.

"We've prepared a voice recorder with us, we will send this to Van Do Lee, Yynn's father." Riff interpreted.

"Ah, this must be about the mid-semester conflict we were having. They did get her signature." Around this time, Joseph started to record everything.

"You do the interrogation Riff."

"Signature? What for?" Riff asked.

"For the falsely made-up bank account for Yynn."

"Were not you guys raping her?"

"What do you mean by that? No one got raped."

"So we got the wrong information, right Jo?"

"Yes, so, she wasn't raped. But Jericho why are you so calm right now? This is not Jericho I met a few weeks ago."

"It's him, he got injured badly, and now we are weak."

"Weak? what do you mean by that?"

"You see, Van Do Lee's trusted right man snitched him out. But now, he's injured, so we are weak in power."

"Okay resume."

Jericho's confession reverberated through the warehouse like a thunderclap, unveiling a sinister scheme orchestrated by Van Do Lee. The revelation that Yynn's name was manipulated to harbor illegal gains in the form of gold sent shockwaves through Riff and Joseph. The room seemed to pulse with the weight of this revelation, the boundaries of their understanding reshaping before their eyes.

As they grappled with the enormity of this new information, a sudden shift in the atmosphere jolted their attention. Approaching them were five figures, each carrying an air of intrigue and danger. Judas Iscariot, an enigmatic figure who held the threads of their fate, led the group. Beside him stood Goda-Onna, Gatling Gaylord, Callanderino Davey, and surprisingly, Zechariah Soulook.

Riff's concern for Zechariah was palpable. "Zack, did anything happen to you?" he inquired, seeking reassurance.

Joseph's gaze shifted from Zechariah's seemingly unharmed appearance to the assembled group. The tension in the room was electric, a silent undercurrent of unspoken motives and veiled alliances. Amidst the tumultuous revelations and the sudden convergence of enigmatic figures, Joseph and Riff found themselves standing at the crossroads of a dangerous game – a game that could redefine their lives and the lives of those around them.

"Do you got the evidence, Jo?" Zechariah urged.

"No, we did not hit him." Joseph lied.

"Fine, then I do it myself, Jo. Give me the voice recorder."

"No, you've been seeming suspicious lately."

"Is that a joke? Never mind."

In the midst of the brewing chaos, a sudden explosion of tension erupted between Joseph and Zechariah. Zechariah's charge was swift and determined, his aim fixed on seizing the incriminating voice recorder from Joseph's grasp. Their scuffle was fierce, each movement laced with a mixture of desperation and aggression. The very air seemed charged with the raw intensity of their confrontation.

Meanwhile, the quartet of Goda-Onna, Gatling Gaylord, Callanderino Davey, and Jericho clashed in their own dance of blows and struggles. Riff, caught in the maelstrom, managed to hold his ground with the support of an unexpected ally – Jericho himself, who seemed to have more to gain from their alliance than from siding with the newcomers.

Joseph and Zechariah's battle escalated, a symphony of punches and thuds echoing through the warehouse. Zechariah's blows rained down upon Joseph, each impact driving him closer to the brink of unconsciousness. But in a moment of desperate agility, Joseph managed to slip out from under Zechariah's assault and reverse their positions. Now atop Zechariah, he retaliated fiercely, his fists channeling a storm of pent-up emotions.

Between punches, Joseph demanded answers, his voice a mix of fury and desperation. "Why did you betray us?! After all we've been through?"

Amidst the barrage, Zechariah's voice struggled to break through, his words carrying an unexpected confession. "One thing you need to know... I've always hated you."

The declaration hung in the air, a bitter revelation that cut deeper than any physical blow. And as their battle waged on, the larger conflict seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the stark reality of two friends turned enemies. The other men, sensing the dire change in momentum, fled the scene after seeing the lifeless body of Zechariah Soulook, leaving behind a scene of shattered allegiances and broken trust.

"D... did I just kill him?" Joseph's gaze fell to the broken voice recorder in his hand, its surface marred by the blood of his former friend. The weight of the moment crashed over him – a convergence of past, present, and a shattered future. The line between loyalty and betrayal had been irrevocably blurred, leaving Joseph to grapple with the aftermath of a battle that extended far beyond the physical realm.

The deafening silence that followed the violent clash was punctuated only by the heavy panting of exhausted combatants. Joseph's gaze remained fixed on his hand, which clutched the shattered remnants of the voice recorder. Blood, both his own and Zechariah's, coated the device, a gruesome testament to the intensity of their confrontation.

A profound realisation dawned upon Joseph – the magnitude of what had just transpired hit him like a freight train. His heart raced, not just from the physical exertion, but from the weight of the truth he had to confront. The possibility that he might have taken a life, even inadvertently, hung heavily over him.

The seconds stretched into an eternity as Joseph grappled with the ramifications of his actions. The warehouse seemed to close in around him, its walls bearing witness to the shattered bonds of friendship and the chaos that had consumed them all. The line between right and wrong, loyalty and betrayal, had blurred beyond recognition.

As the echoes of their conflict began to fade, the reality of the situation remained starkly evident. Joseph's eyes, still fixed on his blood-soaked hand, held not just the evidence of his own anger and violence, but also the irreversible consequence of a bond irrevocably broken. In this moment of bitter reckoning, Joseph was left to confront the haunting question: had he crossed a line from which there could be no return?

The atmosphere in the warehouse seemed to thicken with the weight of the irreversible actions that had unfolded. Joseph's mind was a tumultuous whirlwind of conflicting emotions – disbelief, regret, anger, and desperation. The reality of what he had done was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, and his attempts to rationalise it were feeble at best.

"He had it coming!" Joseph's voice quivered with a mixture of defiance and self-justification, as if trying to convince himself that his actions were somehow justified. But even as the words left his lips, they fell hollow, unable to erase the gravity of the situation.

Jericho and Riff stood there, their own expressions a reflection of the shock and confusion that enveloped the room. The line between ally and adversary had blurred beyond recognition, and they were left facing the grim reality of a life taken in the heat of the moment.

The room felt suffocating, each passing second only amplifying the weight of their choices. Joseph's gaze shifted from Zechariah's lifeless form to the shattered voice recorder in his hand, a chilling symbol of the irreversible consequences of his actions. The truth was a heavy burden to bear, and the path ahead seemed clouded with uncertainty and remorse. In the aftermath of the chaos, there was no escaping the haunting question that lingered in the air – what had they become?

"What'll we do now?" asked Jericho, his voice carrying the weight of uncertainty that filled the room.

"Let's dispose of the body quickly before anyone gets here. Even though it's night already, I reckon some junkies would storm this place." Riff's suggestion cut through the heavy atmosphere, his pragmatic mindset momentarily pushing aside the shock that gripped them all.

Joseph's eyes held a mix of emotions – guilt, disbelief, and a simmering anxiety. He knew that to move forward, they had to navigate this situation with a careful strategy. The reality of their actions weighed heavily on him, a stark reminder of how far they had strayed from their original path.

"You see, in order to move on, I have to do what it takes to be able to get through this cunningly." Joseph's voice wavered slightly, revealing the internal struggle he was facing. "He was our friend, a few among us. I can't describe my feelings." His words carried the weight of his conflicted emotions, a confession of the turmoil within.

"I'd say I am hybridised by what has happened to us. Work with us, Jericho, to fix this mess." Joseph's plea was tinged with a mix of desperation and determination. He recognised the gravity of their situation – the families they were entangled with were ruthless and unyielding. They had to find a way to navigate these treacherous waters, even if it meant making choices that would haunt them.

"These families are much more aggressive than ever." The truth of Joseph's words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the dangerous world they were now a part of. As he spoke, his anxiety seemed to intensify, a pressure that threatened to consume him.

Joseph Pharawan – a name that now carried a burden he could never have imagined. As the weight of their actions settled in, the path ahead seemed uncertain and daunting, yet they had no choice but to face it head-on.

"I always tell myself this, somehow I am lucky and unlucky at the same time. Even though we are oppressed for some reason, we are not that poor. I tend to value things, but, they will perish. I'm doing what I could do best, I value knowledge to let these feelings slide off me. But, what if I was born on a poor continent? Knowledge is no longer appreciatable. That's why I'm considered lucky." Joseph's words flowed with a mix of introspection and contemplation. In this moment of crisis, he opened up a window into his inner thoughts, sharing a piece of his life's philosophy with his companions.

Riff nodded, acknowledging the weight and depth of Joseph's speech. The gravity of their situation seemed to amplify the significance of Joseph's words. As they stood there, facing the consequences of their actions and the uncertain path ahead, there was a sense that they had nothing to lose. In this shared moment of vulnerability, their bond grew stronger, rooted in their mutual understanding of the complexities of life and the choices they had made.

Joseph found it difficult to lift his old friend's lifeless body, and Jericho stepped in to bear the weight. Zechariah's body had grown cold, his once vibrant complexion now as pale as snow on a Christmas Eve. As they prepared to lay their friend to rest, a note slipped from Zechariah's trousers pocket. Joseph retrieved it and read its contents, a mixture of emotions crossing his face before he carefully saved it.

In the expansive outdoors, a spacious piece of land had been chosen as the final resting place for Zechariah Soulook. Riff arrived at the scene, carrying a bottle of alcohol in his hand, ready to perform the last rites for their fallen friend. The air was heavy with a sense of farewell, as they prepared to light the cremation pyre and let go of their memories of Zechariah.

As they prepared for the cremation, an unexpected moment of levity broke through the somber atmosphere. Joseph, perhaps in an attempt to cope with the heaviness of the situation, jokingly suggested they shoot into the sky like they do in movies. Riff and Jericho, caught off guard, reacted in their own ways – Riff burying his face in his hands, and Jericho's expression showing a mixture of amusement and concern. They had hoped that Joseph wouldn't lose himself entirely in the midst of their sorrow.

There were no grand speeches or final words, just the unspoken weight of their memories and the sense of finality in the air. Joseph took it upon himself to perform the ritual, pouring the alcohol onto Zechariah's body and improvising a makeshift Molotov cocktail. He ignited the makeshift firebomb and tossed it onto the pyre, and the flames consumed their friend's earthly remains.

After the fire had subsided, Jericho offered them a plan. They would lie low at his place, a slum in Sayon known as Leah, situated in the northern hills of the city. It was the home of the Bima Family, a group united by a shared goal of liberation. Unlike the structured hierarchy of other families, the Bima Family operated on a principle of equality and mutual support.

"We are equal, there is no grudge, and we work for one goal," Jericho emphasised, underlining the unity that bound them. Joseph expressed his determination to see this through to the end, a testament to the resolve that had brought them this far.

The group had retreated to Jericho's modest home, tucked away in the southwestern corner of Leah. As they settled in, Joseph's gaze was drawn to an old wall clock, its hands ticking away the hours. The time was now 22:00, marking the late hour of their gathering.

With a heavy heart, Joseph spoke up, acknowledging the gravity of the situation they found themselves in. "Jericho, what a terrible occasion it was. Let's take some time to rest, and then we can start brainstorming ideas on how to navigate this problem. I suppose this place is safe for now, isn't it?"

Jericho nodded in agreement. "It is, but we can't count on that safety lasting for long. We likely have about a week, at most, to find a solution. There are a few key questions we need to consider. Did they try to use you to manipulate me into confessing to something false, all to destroy us or spark a rebellion? If that's the case, they might be planning to betray Van Do Lee publicly."

The room fell into contemplative silence as their minds worked through the intricate puzzle before them. The stakes were high, and their futures hung in the balance as they sought to untangle the web of deceit that had ensnared them.

"I think their plan is to eliminate all of us when we're at our weakest and most vulnerable," Riff chimed in, his voice laced with concern.

"That is nasty!" Joseph muttered under his breath.

Jericho's resolute tone cut through the heavy atmosphere. "Rest assured, we'll rally our team. My comrades here are willing to lay down their lives. Adding another ten years to our lives won't alter the outcome."

"We're going to resolve this, and we're going to do it while staying ALIVE," Joseph responded firmly, rejecting Jericho's apparent deathwish. The days were dwindling, only four days remaining since Ban Sukpimai's awakening...