Log no.7 - The Shot

I ran through the brightly lit grocery aisles, heart racing, sweat clinging to my brow. Every shelf I passed blurred in my peripheral vision—boxes of cereal, stacked canned goods, overturned shopping carts. None of it mattered. I had a mission.

Rescue the hostages. Eliminate the Psytonoid.

In my grip was a custom handgun, glowing faintly with the energy of a Bia-infused core. It was more than a weapon—it was a lifeline, one capable of piercing through the reinforced hides of the mechanized creatures that had turned this supermarket into a warzone.

I am Henry Yap, Chief of the Tagbilaran City Police Force. People see the badge and think strength, order, control. But what they don't see is the fear—tight in my chest—the weight of memories I can't outrun.

Right now, I wasn't just fighting enemies. I was fighting my past.

And my past had a name: Chief Gennyson.

A faint sound reached my ears—muffled screams. Hostages. They were close.

I pressed forward, feet thudding against the linoleum floor, scanning every corner. My breath fogged slightly as I passed the refrigerated section. The store was too quiet, unnaturally so, like the silence before a thunderclap.

Then I saw it.

Towering at the end of the hall stood a mechanoloid monkey, its red optical lenses glowing menacingly, its posture rigid, muscles—mechanical as they were—tensed like a coiled spring.

My breath caught.

Even though I'd faced worse in my years of service, fear sank its claws into me like a cold hand around the heart.

But I couldn't let it win.

I tightened my grip on the gun. "Only a few shots left," I muttered. "Make them count."

With a sudden, screeching howl, the creature charged.

I squeezed the trigger.

The shot connected—just barely. Sparks erupted as the bullet grazed its shoulder, carving off a chunk of metallic armor. The beast shrieked in fury, clearly more annoyed than hurt.

Enraged, it grabbed a nearby metal shelf and hurled it like a projectile.

I dived, shoulder slamming into the cold floor as the rack crashed inches above me, sending boxes and cans flying in every direction.

The monkey was already mid-air again, its arms whirring with hydraulic speed. A barrage of punches rained down. I rolled to the side, barely avoiding the strikes, each one landing with a bone-rattling crash where I had just been.

"Damn it!" I shouted, heart hammering. "Why won't you calm the hell down?!"

Scrambling backward, I raised my gun once more, hands shaking—not just from exhaustion, but from something else.

A memory.

A trigger I couldn't pull.

Not again.

Not after what happened that day.

Three Years Ago – The Barracks

The scent of instant coffee and floor polish lingered in the station's air. Morning light poured through the office windows, catching the dust motes dancing lazily in the beams.

Inside, officers laughed and chatted like family. It was one of the good days—the rare calm before the inevitable storm.

"Henry," a deep voice called.

I turned to see Chief Gennyson leaning against the filing cabinet with a tired but genuine smile.

"You've been working hard for that Chief position," he said. "Proud of you. Keep this up, you'll be running your own station in no time."

"Thanks, sir," I said, chuckling as I scratched the back of my head. "Feels good to finally apply what I've learned."

He nodded, a twinkle of mentorship in his eyes. "You're ready. And you'll do better than I ever did."

I shrugged. "It's my day off, but… the house felt empty. Wife and kids are out, so I came in."

He sighed, a rare crack in his armor. "Enjoy the time with them while you can. It's lonelier than you think when they're gone."

Trying to lighten the mood, I grinned. "I could lend you mine for a weekend."

He laughed, shaking his head. "They wouldn't survive your wife."

We shared a quiet moment before I brought up the story gnawing at the back of my mind.

"You heard about the Burning Arsonist?"

He placed his coffee on the desk. "Yeah. I've been tracking him for weeks."

He pulled out a battered notebook and handed it to me. Inside were sketches, addresses, timestamps, victim profiles. It was chilling.

"He targets family homes," Gennyson said coldly. "Happy ones. He despises them."

"This is sick," I murmured. "What kind of monster does this?"

"The kind that doesn't fear consequences," he replied. "But I'll make sure he does."

Just then, his phone rang. He picked it up.

"Sir, there's a sighting of the arsonist in Taloto, yelling and carrying pyrotechnics."

We moved in seconds.

The drive was tense.

Gennyson sat beside me, silent, staring out the window. I knew what he was thinking—his family lived in Taloto. We arrived and split up to cover more ground.

I asked around, chasing shadows, finding nothing but rising dread.

Then, a scent.

Gasoline.

I followed it, adrenaline spiking.

And there—the arsonist. Laughing, taunting. Holding an incendiary.

And Gennyson was there, confronting him.

In that moment, I acted.

I pulled my weapon.

I fired.

The bullet hit.

The incendiary dropped.

Flames erupted with terrifying speed, devouring everything in its path.

And Gennyson… ran into the fire.

"No! CHIEF!"

He didn't turn back.

When the fire department finally arrived, they dragged him out. Blackened, broken—yet smiling. Holding nothing but a burnt monkey doll, tears streaming down his face.

He disappeared not long after.

And now, he was here—again. But not the same man.

Return to the Battle

The monkey shrieked and hurled crates at me. I dodged, slipped, and scrambled behind cover.

Liquid pooled across the floor. Soap. Juice. Oil. A slick trap waiting to be used.

Behind me, bananas.

An idea sparked.

"Hey, banana breath!" I shouted, waving a bunch. "Want a snack?"

The monkey screeched and charged.

It slipped.

Crashed straight into the fruit racks.

Perfect.

Three shots. Clean. Final.

The creature shattered into scrap.

But I wasn't celebrating. My body shook with the aftershock of adrenaline. My hands trembled. My breath came ragged.

A hand touched my shoulder.

"Nice kill, old man," said Felix.

Even behind the mask, I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Thanks," I said quietly.

"All five down. Hostages are safe. Rescue team's on the way."

"What about the main one?" I asked.

He nodded toward the stairs. "Basement's all that's left."

"I'll call my men—"

"No. Just us."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because this is personal. I saw it earlier—when Gennyson said your name. He hesitated. The Bia in him? That power? It's not from him. It's from that doll."

I looked at him sharply.

"We need to talk him down," he continued. "You need to. While I get that doll away from him."

I hesitated.

"Can we even pull this off?"

He removed his mask.

"It's called trust, Chief. Even if it doesn't work, we'll find another way. We just have to stay alive."

He offered his hand.

"Felix Torregosa. I trust you to finish this."

I laughed.

"Chief Henry Yap. Let's bring him home."

The concrete beneath our feet felt colder than usual—an ominous silence echoing off every pillar and wall of the underground parking garage. Our boots clicked softly against the floor, each step tense, calculated, measured.

Felix swept his flashlight across the area. Shadows danced over abandoned cars, their hoods popped, doors hanging ajar. A few smoldering engines hissed in the distance. The whole place smelled like gasoline, sweat, and metal—like something terrible had just happened and more was still coming.

"We've searched this entire place and haven't found a single trace of him," Felix muttered, lowering his weapon slightly.

"He's hiding," I replied, eyes scanning above and between vehicles. "Even monsters don't want to be seen before they strike."

"Right…"

I didn't finish my thought. Something whistled through the air—a blur of black metal.

"GET DOWN!"

A car flew straight at us, spinning through the air like a missile.

We both dove to the side, landing hard on the pavement as the vehicle slammed into a concrete wall, shattering it in a thunderous explosion of glass and steel.

I scrambled to my feet, heart pounding.

"Felix, are you alright?!"

He stood up, coughing. A gash along his temple trickled blood, but he nodded. "Yeah… just a scratch."

Then we heard it.

A scream—not of pain, but pure, feral rage.

From the direction the car had come, Chief Gennyson emerged, smashing car hoods with his bare fists like they were made of paper. His eyes were bloodshot, glowing faintly with unstable Bia energy. Sparks danced across his knuckles with every hit. His breathing was ragged, chest heaving with hatred.

"YOU BASTARDS!" he roared. "YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO WIN! HOW DARE YOU DESTROY MY MONKEYS!"

I stepped back instinctively. This wasn't the man I knew. It wasn't even a man at all.

"Henry," Felix said under his breath, weapon drawn. "He's lost it. This isn't just Bia power anymore… he's possessed."

I nodded, jaw clenched. "He won't listen to me in this state."

"I'll weaken him," Felix said, voice grim. "You focus on talking to him… if we get the chance."

Without waiting, Felix sprinted forward. His gear shimmered with activated Bia as he grappled up to the ceiling, pulled himself back like a slingshot, and launched himself at Gennyson.

He summoned his hammer mid-air and slammed it down.

A massive shockwave echoed through the parking lot.

Gennyson staggered back—but only slightly.

He brushed off the dust with an eerie calm. "That hurt a bit," he said with a crooked smile. "But a bug would hurt more."

Then, with terrifying speed, he grabbed Felix's hammer and threw him across the room. Felix's body bounced off the hood of a car before crashing to the ground.

I raised my gun, but hesitated.

Not yet.

"YOU BETTER BE READY TO DIE!" Gennyson shouted, charging after Felix.

Felix, bruised and bleeding, summoned his shield just in time to block a brutal punch. The force sent cracks through the energy field and launched him backward again. He groaned but stood, conjuring flashes of blinding light to stun Gennyson.

It worked—briefly. Gennyson staggered, blinking furiously.

Felix darted to the side, swinging his hammer toward Gennyson's ribs.

But somehow—even blinded—Gennyson caught it.

"DON'T FORGET," he said with a grin, "WE HAVE TWO SETS OF EYES."

He reeled back and slammed Felix with a punch so fierce it echoed like thunder.

Felix flew across the floor and hit a concrete pillar with a sickening crack.

"I thought you'd be stronger," Gennyson sneered. "Turns out you're just like the rest—human."

He raised his fist again, ready to end it.

I stepped forward, voice firm.

"GENNYSON!" I shouted. "HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN THE INCIDENT?!"

The words hit him like a bullet.

His fist froze midair. His head twitched.

"I told you to stop back then," I continued, my voice cracking, "and I'm telling you to stop now."

He didn't speak. But his hand trembled.

"You think guilt will make me hesitate?" he snarled, eyes welling with something that wasn't rage anymore—grief.

I stepped closer.

"Would your family… would they be proud of what you've become?"

That was it. The crack in the armor.

Gennyson let out a pained scream, lunging toward me. But Felix, now barely standing, activated a tripwire that caught Gennyson's leg and sent him crashing to the floor.

"Thanks," I said.

Felix gave a faint nod. "Don't thank me yet."

He raised his hammer and slammed it into Gennyson's back with all the strength he had left.

Gennyson howled in pain—but then something shifted.

His Bia spiked, swirling around him like a vortex.

He rose to his feet in an unnatural motion and pinned Felix to the ground, fists flying in a savage barrage of punches. Felix blocked what he could, but his body was going limp.

I watched in horror. It was like watching someone be pulverized by a machine.

But something happened.

Gennyson's punches began to slow.

He blinked.

Then, a voice inside his mind whispered.

"Finish him, Dad."

It was the voice of his son.

"He'll ruin everything. Our plans."

Gennyson's eyes widened. "He's just… he's just a kid…"

"The man who killed us didn't care if we were kids. Remember? He dropped the fire. He shot the spark. Killed mom and I"

His son stepped forward, holding the monkey doll.

"You did this to protect us. Keep hurting them. They deserve it."

"No… no they don't…"

Gennyson trembled, a tear falling from his eye.

"You shot the man that day."

"No.…"

But the boy kept speaking, his voice turning harsh, distorted.

"Do no try to delude your mind."

Gennyson's mind spun. And in that vulnerable moment, Felix's hammer struck him hard across the face, sending him reeling.

The illusion shattered.

The doll's influence slipped.

Gennyson charged once more—this time for Felix.

But I was ready.

I conjured a Bia-rope mid-air, looped it around his neck, and yanked it hard, using my weight to slam him to the ground.

It wasn't enough.

He growled, grabbed the rope, and whipped me toward him with such force that I couldn't let go in time.

He raised his fist.

I braced for impact.

But he froze.

A gunshot rang out.

I had pulled the trigger.

Gennyson fell forward, groaning in pain, eyes wide.

"I'm sorry," I said.

Felix looked up, stunned.

"You… shot him?"

I nodded. "It wasn't just a mechanized monster anymore. It was a man… a man lost to his grief."

Suddenly, Gennyson's body pulsed with unstable Bia.

The doll in his hand glowed bright, shaking violently.

Felix shouted, "It's rampaging! He's losing control!"

Gennyson letd out. "The contract… is broken."

And just like that, the energy vanished.

The doll fell, lifeless, beside him.

I rushed to his side.

"Why?" I whispered, tears in my eyes. "Why did it come to this?"

He smiled faintly, coughing blood. "I just… wanted people to understand the pain of being denied what they need. I became a nuisance… a monster… just so others would feel it."

"Stop talking like you're done," I said. "You're not dying here."

"I never thought… it would be you," he said, eyes distant. "You were there that day. You told me to stop… but I didn't listen. And now…"

He looked at me. "Didn't I shoot him?"

"No," I said, voice breaking. "It was me. I pulled the trigger that day."

The memory resurfaced with crystal clarity.

That day, I saw Gennyson facing the arsonist.

I panicked.

I fired.

The incendiary dropped.

The flames erupted.

And I… watched the house burn.

Gennyson had rushed in… to save his family.

All I did was watch.

When he came out, holding that doll, I knew something inside him had broken.

And now, that truth—buried for years—was finally spoken.

"I should be the one condemned," I whispered. "You didn't deserve all this pain."

Gennyson smiled weakly. "Henry… don't be stupid. I chose this. I let my pain control me. I blamed the arsonist, then myself. Then the world. That's on me."

He reached out a shaky hand. "The doll… I thought it held my son's soul. I fed it my pain. My memories. My sanity. It warped everything I believed."

"Is there any way to save you?" Felix asked, voice soft.

Gennyson looked at him, smiled faintly. "No. This is my punishment. But… I'm glad I remembered who I was before I go."

He turned back to me. "Continue the mission, Chief Yap. This city… still needs you."

His body went still.

And I held him there, unmoving.

The sun had risen by the time Felix and I exited the building.

The medics followed behind us, carrying Chief Gennyson's lifeless body in a black bag.

Felix walked beside me in silence.

After a while, he finally spoke. "Was there really… nothing we could've done?"

I didn't answer at first. My eyes were focused forward.

Then, slowly, I nodded. "Everything happens for a reason. Even the pain. Even the fire. We can't change the past… but we can decide what to do with what's left."

He turned to me, eyes full of something heavier than youth. "And what now?"

I extended my hand.

"We move forward. Together."

He smiled and took it.

"I guess we'll be partners, then."

"Yeah," I said, a small smile on my lips. "Let's aim for a better ending next time."

After the Quality Time Incident, I returned to my daily life.

Or tried to.

I limped through the school gates, my body aching with every step.

"Why can't I catch a damn break…" I muttered, wincing as my back locked up again.

But as I walked, I knew something had changed.

Not just in me—but in the city I swore to protect.

At classroom door.

"I need to regain my composure. I can't be limping like this when having a headache."

– END –