Mission / Massacre

Just when the warmth of their breakfast started to sink in and the tension of past days began to fade, Alfie's phone buzzed harshly on the table—cutting through the calm like a knife.

Loren paused mid-bite, immediately sensing something was off by the way Alfie's face stiffened as he read the message.

"Who is it?" she asked, her voice soft but alert.

Alfie looked at her for a second before answering.

"It's them. The police unit we're... working with. They want us in immediately. Urgent briefing."

Loren's cheerful glow dimmed.

"What now?" she asked, though she was already bracing for bad news.

"They said..." Alfie hesitated. "They have a lead. A solid one. On where The Fool might be hiding."

A thick silence hung between them.

Alfie clenched his jaw.

"They didn't give details in the message. Just told us to report. Now."

Loren stood up, brushing off her pants and placing her untouched plate on the sink. "Then let's go," she said, hiding her unease behind a composed voice.

[Later, at the Police Safehouse – Briefing Room]

Inside a dimly lit room with a large whiteboard and scattered documents pinned to the walls, a few uniformed officers sat, eyes sharp, waiting.

Kevin stood at the front, arms crossed. As soon as Alfie and Loren entered, he gestured for them to sit.

"You took your time," Kevin muttered.

"We came the moment we were called," Alfie replied, his tone firm but respectful.

Kevin didn't argue. Instead, he tapped a photo on the board—grainy surveillance footage showing a tall man with a hood and a mask.

"Captured just two nights ago. We believe it's The Fool," he said, eyes scanning the two.

"Where?" Loren asked.

"Abandoned facility. Old warehouse near the harbor. Not far from Pasay City," another officer answered.

"It's not confirmed, but several reports came in about a strange masked man helping people escape an armed raid. Classic Fool behavior."

Kevin turned to Alfie. "You two will go with an elite unit. I want him alive. But if you can't manage that—bring me whatever's left."

Alfie's fist clenched under the table.

Kevin leaned closer, eyes narrowed. "Make sure you don't grow a conscience at the last second. I know how you think."

Alfie didn't answer.

Loren reached under the table and gently touched Alfie's hand—reminding him they were in this together. Even if it meant playing a part they didn't believe in.

Kevin continued,

"We move tonight. No room for mistakes. The Fool is a symbol now. Killing him—or capturing him—will send a message. Understood?"

Both Alfie and Loren nodded, though deep inside, they were more conflicted than ever.

Kevin leaned against the hood of a black SUV, arms crossed, a lit cigarette in his mouth, the smoke curling around his annoyed expression.

"We're not bringing the cops with us. They'll only slow us down," he growled.

"You've seen them. Fat. Lazy. Boastful. No talent. Half of them can't even run a kilometer without collapsing. And we're chasing a ghost."

"We agree," Alfie nodded. "What's the lead?"

Kevin pulled out a tablet and showed them drone images and a map.

"A hidden community out near Pasay. Dense. Quiet. The odd part? They keep spotting people—kids, teens, even elders—wearing the same type of hooded coat your guy The Fool wears. Someone there's spreading his image like he's a prophet. I want to know who started it. Or if we are lucky The Fool might be hiding amongst them"

They drove for hours, navigating rough terrains and forested trails. Upon arriving at the outskirts of the area, the three moved silently through the dense foliage. No backup. No cameras. Just pure stealth.

They reached an elevated spot and saw it—a cluster of small homes and shacks. At first glance, everything looked normal. But then they saw them.

Kids with crudely drawn versions of The Fool's mark painted on their jackets.

Teenagers wearing black hoods, whispering about justice.

Even adults cooking meals while speaking in reverence about

"the one who punishes the corrupt."

Alfie and Loren stood frozen; disbelief written across their faces.

"Are they… Cult?" Loren whispered.

"This is more than just support," Alfie added. "This is a movement."

But Kevin's face hardened.

"No. This is contamination. Brainwashing. This is how rebellion spreads. If we don't cut it now, we'll be chasing these roaches for decades."

Alfie's jaw clenched. He instinctively stepped forward to stop Kevin, but the man had already drawn his weapon.

"No witnesses. No survivors. We cleanse the infection."

Loren grabbed Alfie's arm, her face pale.

"We can't… They're just kids…"

But Kevin had already opened fire.

The scene turned nightmarish. Screams echoed in the forest. Alfie, frozen in conflict, shielded Loren as chaos erupted.

Blood soaked the ground.

Some tried to run. Some tried to fight. But none stood a chance.

When it was over, Kevin stood in the middle of the burning abandoned building, breathing heavily, gun still warm.

"This is the price of peace," he muttered.

Alfie turned away, gripping Loren tightly.

But deep in his heart, a storm had begun. He was no longer sure if the side he was standing on was right.

Smoke still curled up from the charred walls of the abandoned building. The flames had died, but the aftermath remained—a field of bodies, scattered across the ground like broken dolls.

Kevin stood in the center, eyes darting from corpse to corpse, seething.

"Line them up," he ordered sharply.

Alfie hesitated. "What?"

"I said line them up! I want to see their faces. Every single one. I want to be sure none of them was him."

With no choice, Alfie began dragging the bodies, one by one, placing them side by side. The weight of each corpse added not just to the physical toll, but to the emotional burden already eating at him.

Loren tried to help, but as she uncovered the body of a young boy—no older than thirteen, with a cloth mask marked crudely with The Fool's insignia—she froze.

Her hands trembled.

Her breathing grew shallow.

And then she turned and vomited violently behind a tree.

"Loren, enough," Alfie said gently, walking over. "Just go. Wait in the SUV. I'll handle this."

She didn't argue. Her face pale, she nodded and staggered away.

Kevin didn't even glance in their direction.

He continued his inspection. His boots stomped through the blood-soaked soil. He crouched to inspect a teenage girl, then a man in his thirties. All bore some piece of black clothing, some hint of idolization. None were The Fool.

As Alfie placed the last body in the lineup, Kevin stood silently in front of them.

A long pause.

Then, he clenched his fists.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"Not a single one of these worthless sheep was him."

He suddenly let out a furious roar, punching a nearby wooden post with enough force to shatter it in half.

"Cowards!" he yelled into the empty village. "Hiding behind children?! Turning nobodies into martyrs?! Do you think this is a game?!"

He kicked one of the bodies aside, pacing back and forth like a madman.

"He's mocking us. Every second we're not holding his throat in our hands, he's out there laughing. Planning his next little stunt."

Alfie stood quietly, breathing heavily, eyes locked on the ground.

"This wasn't justice," he finally muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" Kevin snapped.

"Nothing," Alfie replied quickly.

Kevin stormed past him.

"Let's move. We didn't get The Fool tonight—but I swear to God, I'll make him bleed for this."

Alfie remained still, the sounds of burning wood and distant wind filling the silence.

He knew something had shifted.

Tonight, wasn't a mission.

It was a massacre.