LLZ-2: Roze Island

A small lesson in geography. Think of a flat plane that stretches forever from side to side, with bottomless void, filled by flying islands scattered at different altitude. Two large countries resides on top of the largest island known to man, The Republic and Milium. The island is called Ha, one should realize its short name signify its ancient roots.

There is another country on Ha laymen tends to forget. Located near the east side of Ha, shaped like a small slice of pie, is a country officially titled Federation of Peace and Freedom. Commonly referred as Feds, they are a minor player in wars between The Republic and Milium. She often acts as a middleman, an intermediary, or a puppet controlled by the highest bidder.

Most of the landmass under Fed’s control are located outside Ha. Each islands serves different purposes.Military, medical, research institutions, and even entertainment. An entertainment-centric island exists called Roze, a paradise for those who seek happiness. A popular tourist destination from either The Republic and Milium, especially single men with Koen to spare. Roze features extreme rides of roller coasters, pods that flew into the sky without any attachments, and theaters of magic. But there is an area only accessible to those with a real identity card.

Yes, a real identity card, only obtainable by people aged twenty five years or older. None of those baby cards everyone get at birth. This is the real deal. You can drive high speed cars with it. Work dangerous jobs without parent’s consent. Create your own political groups. Vote in general election.

The story starts by a real cardholder, a man called Lukman. He is flying to Roze a day after he thought of his own mental health. His consciousness was damaged over years of working himself to the bone. Soon after his fateful meeting with Parma at Jackson’s bar, he immediately bought a one way ticket towards Roze Island. His vacation leave was not even approved yet, but he’s not taking any chances.

He chose to travel by loon, paying for the earliest flight possible. A loon is giant-flying-ship with carrying capacity of 400 people, powered by three mana engines that can support a whole ship even if two of them died. It typically fly at 700 meters above ground. The rough sound of its engine are reduced to a quite hum when it reaches the cabin.

Lukman is sleeping, his head rested on the window. His breath creates a streak of condensed air across the plastic panel. A strand of saliva drips from his open mouth, staining his floral patterned shirt. His arm is weighed down by bracelets given by the airport staff, right after he put his suitcase in the luggage area.

Jackson sits beside him, reading a thick infomercial book. On a page, Jackson saw a large spread of buildings with neon lights. In front of it, women from different parts of Roze are captured dancing seducingly over a dim light. Out of the window, one can see a large landmass appearing behind the clouds. A tall 600 meters tower sticking up above everything. It’s casting a long shadow on top of nearby buildings, swinging around as time went on, like a nature-born clock hand.

“God damn why is it so bright and hot in this place?!” Jackson said it with his hand covering a part of his eyes. This season is warmer than usual, and humid too. But it seems the locals does not care about it. The sky acts differently on different altitude. Above a 500 meters, it became a giant lamp which confuses early sky adventurers. It’s as if they were shone with a bright object, from everywhere. It is merciless, even the loon must put a protective film on top of their already dark windows. Especially on passenger sides.

Looking at the other tourists, they seem to not be bothered by the heat. They are still able to enjoy air conditioner located in front of their faces. They came from many facets of life even if it’s not even holiday season yet. There are newly weds, graduating students, and even groups of elderly people.

Roze finally grew closer as the loon descents to around 200 meters above ground. A few communication tower can be seen in the distance. Jackson’s ear popped from difference in altitude, swallowing should fix it. A yellow sign started to blinked frequently, any passengers still not in their seat returned at once. Ten stewardess walked silently between each chairs, checking for any soul without a seat belt.

The loon is piloted by a seasoned veteran, he landed it smoothly on top of predetermined target. He had gone through war with less navigational apparatus, putting down a stable ship on top of a well lit ground easy in comparison. The hum of the engine slows down similar to air conditioner, it dies of one by one. The loon’s exit is now crowded with people bumping into each other. They are naturally impatient, it has been a long flight.

Jackson hasn’t tried to wake Lukman up. He is waiting for the jam at the exit to subside. He finished reading the infomercial book over five times already, his brain is now full of recommended locations, bars, hotels, and even hospitals if need be. He felt becoming a tour guide, it also helped he came here twice before. “Came”, as in he visited places here, not the other meaning.

“Oi, get up. We’ve arrived.” Said Jackson with deliberate annoying tone.

Jackson pushed Lukman’s shoulder repeatedly. His sleeping face frowned, he spoke out a high pitched moan of tantrum. He rubbed his eye, sky shining from nearby windows woke him to half consciousness. His eyes attracted to a staff outside of his cabin. The staff carried a large bag on his truck to transport the passengers’ luggage away. The ground outside is plain, gray, it’s a sea of asphalt.

A minibus waits for passengers to board it. Red carpets made from durable nylon was laid out as a guide and a sign of hospitality. They were taken away ten minutes after the loon had landed. After ten minutes of walking inside the airport, Lukman’s suitcase is finally on sight. It’s moving on top of a conveyor belt. They rolled down their suitcases towards the entrance, before a woman in her thirties called out to them. Her hand is waving in excitement. She is showing her teeth, which are small and cute. In her left hand, she is grabbing a small whiteboard, Jackson’s name is written on top of it with neon ink.

“Jackson, right here! It’s me, Hana!” She screamed it, Jackson took notice and made a slight smile from the corner of his lips.

They closed their distance and hugged each other while Lukman watched from the sideline. His hair is all over the place and his eyes aren’t opening fully. Hana looked at him with a big smile, Lukman replied hastily with a nod.

“It’s nice to see you again Hana, how have you been?” Jackson asked her with a slow yet gentle tone, as if they’ve known each other since forever.

“Well you definitely made my day, just by coming here! But before that, how about you start by introducing that gentleman over there?” Said Hana gleefully.

Jackson took Lukman’s arm in a swift motion, then made him closer. He slumped forward, his hand wiggles to find balance, then stopped midway. He’s trying not to embarrass himself in front of strangers.

“Hana, please meet my dear friend from the pub, Lukman. Say hi, Lukman.”

“Hello.”

“That’s not a “hi”. Anyway Hana, he came here for pleasure. Do you think you can set him up with something good?“ Jackson winked at her. She popped a mischievous grin in reply.

“Let’s talk business later, I think I get the gist of it. I have a p-tram outside, I can take you around the island. Or did you already bought a transport?” Hana dangles a key to her p-tram.

“Nope, no transport. Just you, me, and this sleepy guy.” Said Jackson.

The p-tram is parked outside, waiting while an air conditioner kept the inside cold. A popular mode of transportation, p-tram is a semi-automatic car with an ambiguous front and backside. It’s powered by a Katachi X4 engine with a top speed of 90 kilometers an hour. It uses mana as fuel and can read the road as if it has its own brain. Anyone can “drive” p-tram, it’s a pretty simple vehicle. Just like a traditional electric tram, the user only need to punch in their destination to an analogue keys located near the dashboard. It’s the perfect vehicle for traveling, because no one need to care about the road and can turn chair facing each other. Essentially, a waiting room where destination is a click away.

Jackson put their luggage in the trunk to make space inside. Big enough for Lukman to stretch his feet outwards, nearly touching the other side of the p-tram. Their eyes are staring outside the window, looking at buildings, parks, and people that passes by. They are near the airport, it’s natural to see businesses and marketplace bustling with life, especially at this hour. Everyone is wearing colorful clothes, and their faces are white and glittery covered in skyprotek, an ointment to prevent skin burns and irritation from the skylight. A mother catches one of her children before they can cross the busy street. The kid is millimeters away from crashing their p-tram.

They fell silent, enjoying the scenery and bliss of their first day in Roze. This is the first time Lukman has ever visited such an entertainment focused island. He rarely see an indigenous house anywhere near the main road. It’s as if The Federation had swallowed up everyone except their own citizens.

“Have you been here before, Lukman?” Hana started the conversation.

“N-No, I haven’t. This is my first time. I heard good things about it.”

“Oh, then you should know the local’s digest then? You know, the entertainment options.” Hana pulled a string, Lukman could sense where this conversation is going.

“It’s impossible not to, the fediverse were all talking about it. Those feds are very liberal when it comes to money and entertainment.” Lukman gave his thought based on what he sees on fediverse, a kind of social media network.

“Do you have anything you want in mind? Maybe a place that you’ve dreamt before? I know Roze like the back of my hand, ask me anything. Seriously, anything.”

Jackson pull any words he had in mind back to his mouth. He is enjoying the conversation, and he might learn something if he shuts up. Lukman is interested by this, he closed his eyes and think of a good questions.

“Alright, I will ask several things. Let’s start with the easy one. How did this island came about, and why is there so many tourist spots here.” Asked Lukman.

“My ten year old nephew knew the answer. This island was taken forcefully in a war. A war which my grand-pappy survived when he’s still young. They tear up our infrastructure, economy, government, and even our education systems. After they ruined our livelihood, those feds pushed us out of the city center with flimsy excuse. To evacuate civilians from a war zone, the one they started by themselves. Obviously, my people lost and the feds won their right to transform the island into anything they desired. From then on, it’s called Roze.”

Lukman already knew the answer, better than she did. His hobby and job is to stake out for any morsel of information from his enemies. Searching for how Roze was created is an easy feat. But now, he started to go for the point. The gentleman’s club.

“Ah, so you want my recommendation. I think I could give you pointers, what are you searching for?”

“What are you looking at me for?” Lukman feel offended, but the room know he is the star of the hour.

Being a harlot happens to be the oldest profession within our history, predating the historic era. Profits taken from lonely men was used to create hospitals, roads, streetlights, and even schools. Without exaggeration, they were the backbone of society, the one who made the cash flow, flowing. It’s not uncommon to see a town becoming cities because a group of beautiful women worked hard investing in their futures.

The indigenous people saw it as just another job, even after The Feds took control of the island. There were no prejudice, unlike the other large nations. Successful establishments were treated as an industry, pumping out talented and gifted women into the workforce. These companies has influence over everyone including The Feds. They started exempting “entertainment” businesses from regular taxations, creating their own code and laws to benefit the industry.

Franchises, knock offs, and spiritual successors popped up, populating the once empty lot into a hub of lust seekers. Although each store will cater to their own niche, there is a template for their business. Not out of regulation, but from a simple economical practicalities.

The practice is called the “twin-job” system. A system so old, it became an unwritten rule rather than a proper business plan. It started from an observation, an owner noticing the lack of customers during daytime. The cash flows always decreases on days when offices opens up, because no one had the time to entertain themselves while working. To increase revenue, the store owners made the genius move to create a working system for vacant employees. They decided to open up a restaurant, coffee shops, bakeries, and employed their already beautiful girls to work.

It became a popular mode of working, where the workers do night and day shifts interchangeably. This resulted in a demystification of sex-workers for tourists simply by making them interactable within a “safe for work” environment in the morning, and giving their proper services at night. The cash flows in around the clock, and the workers can develop skills beside their physical abilities.

Hana is a business owner herself, started at the age of 20 and is now an entrepreneur by 40, which no one would expect by how young and smooth her skin feels. She worked at a respectable establishments in the red district, “Mirrors Palace”. It happens to be their next destination, Jackson had already planned ahead.

Lukman is currently drinking his cup of tea, right outside a cafe. The evening sky is orange and the clouds is thinly distributed throughout. People passing by, minding their own business. Chirps of birds called out to their mate, even when the street is busy with activities. He is enjoying a book to pass the time, a romantic novel titled, “A Bench Outside”. A story of a photographer who likes to take pictures of couples on a bench in the park. The story ends beautifully to some, and horribly cliched to the others. Either way, this is the tenth time Lukman read the book.

He had offloaded his suitcase at the hotel, and they decided to split off and rendezvous at Mirrors Palace later at night. Although Jackson did say he is going around the city with Hana, for old time sake. Lukman guesses that they had a history together, what a cute couple, he thought.

A passage of conversation is being replayed in Lukman’s head. It was when he is exchanging the hotel keys in the hotel’s lobby. He could overheard someone standing far behind him.

“Although I’m the owner of this place, it’s actually a franchise. I took a deal with some guy called Glasses Man, pretty mysterious but he’s well known around here. We talked a little—” Hana whispers, as if Lukman was not meant to hear it.

Lukman raised a part of his eyebrow upon hearing that name. Glasses Man, an elusive figure he had heard in passing. The grapevine does not know much of him, but The Agency speculated his connections with Milium’s officials. Lukman has a duty to report this upstairs, but there’s a part of him that wants to enjoy the vacation. He turned his brain around while quoting The Republic’s BEP—Business, Employment, and Practice—code number B25 paragraph 1:

Employer shall not directly or indirectly, with or without reprimand, in any condition, order their employee outside work hours, without an agreed upon compensation, verbal, and written agreement at minimum a day before the order. Failing to comply is the equivalent of violating a third degree misdemeanor, with fine up to twenty years of the employee’s yearly total compensation package including benefits such as health insurance.

This made Lukman consider the easier approach. He rather spent the day not doing anything than to work on his vacation. This Glasses Man will not go anywhere, he thought. If he’s able to operate for years without issues, Lukman is sure to be safe if he came to the establishment as a customer. His work can wait.

In a blink of an eye, the novel he purposefully read slowly eventually came to an end. The book lasted him into the evening, just as the sky darkens into its lowest brightness. The streets and buildings shines up with luminescent strips of sticks and glowing projectors. Storefronts are using LTA projections, a digital encoders emitting pictures from a device, but mana powered magic circuits enhances it by aligning the molecules in the air to create 3D holograms. The one being used are mostly monochromes, but it’s enough to entertain and advertise the business.

Pedestrian, especially tourist, are mostly shy and unsure of how safe it is. Employees are told not to be too persuasive, often just gently smile while drinking a tea, like waiting for a date. Lukman observed a couple of men, probably just friends, watching a lady in plain white clothing outside of a store. They are bickering with each other, whispering, and pushing towards the store. The lady smiles in return, her flicked left, inviting them to sit together outside. They started to converse, professionally, a server and a client.

After the courtesies are over, they talk straight to business. They started with the boundaries, the dos, or donts. No surprises, everything is agreed beforehand, and no force could be used without verbal and direct consent. After that, both men talked about their preferences, what they are searching for, what kinds of experience they are expecting. The lady sitting across them nods confidently, she is noting down their request with the experience of a veteran in the industry. As soon as they stopped talking, she already had an accurate picture in mind. She gave them a piece of paper with scribbles on it, like a code of sort. She gestured to walk towards a door behind her, as if they are finally welcomed. They giddily walk towards the entrance, the grin on their faces are creepy and annoying.

Lukman saw and heard everything. He guessed Hana as an equivalent to the girl waiting outside. An interviewer of sort, like asking the waiter for a recommendation and best sellers. He felt a light tap on his shoulder, its Jackson wearing a pitch-black shirt.

“Let’s go, it’s time to move.” He tilted his head towards the road.

“How the hell did you find me?” Lukman wonders.

“I saw you eyes sticking to this place. I notice things, you know. Also, put that book away Lukman, it’s Roze and not the library.”

Jackson replied in confidence. His hand snatched the book out of Lukman’s grasp. Like a child losing his only candy, he looked up with disdain and annoyance. He decided to walk it off, blending with the night towards a certain palace.

It’s only ten minutes away, near the end of this street. There are at least twenty people standing in front of the store, some standing, some sitting on the dusty floor. In theme with its name, “Mirrors Palace” are a glowing, shiny, establishment compared to its competitors. The light shone brightly, bouncing from its mirror-polished white ceramic which is plastered on outer walls. It’s at least four levels tall, and four levels down to the basements, totaling to eight, the lucky number often associated with “infinity”. On the third floor, multiple pole-dancers wearing light colored bikinis with black mesh fabric are dancing into the cold night. Their expression are flat, uninterested. Yet their body flail beautifully to the beat of a house themed music playing in the background. Men stand around the entrance, looking up even when they don’t have enough money to get in.

Hana opens up the door the palace, she gestured them to come in. Jackson obliged and walked passed hungry men waiting outside. Their faces are full of envy and disgust, their hands clutched to the numbered ticket in their hands. One of them shouted from the front of the queue. His ticket number is lower than everyone else’s.

“Oi, you ah cutting the loin ye big basthad!” Jackson stood tall in front of him, his head turned down just to see his presumed opponent.

“Jeremy, you better behave. Or I will ban you from the rest of the year, heard?” Hana addressed him without even looking at her customer. Jeremy swiftly bowed and apologized, his face turned to terror not even a second later.

“Sorry madam, it will not happen again.” Said Jeremy as he lowered his gaze to the ground.

They just renovated the place. Hana is always changing the theme of her business, aligned with the current trend. This year, everything is like a cafe, complete with lounge, single-person round table, and a long sofa that wraps around the corner.

Inside, Hana introduced her newly found customer with a photo album. On the cover, is a golden embossed letter with “menu” written on it.

“First timer get a discount for full service. Please, enjoy the night.”

Said Hana as she gave Lukman a photo album. The word “menu” is written on its cover. It’s embossed with gold lettering. There are at least four pictures of a close up to a lady, each turn of a page is its own categories and prices. These includes their age, memorable skills, notable reviews, and tenure. Everything is laid in clear words and descriptive photos.

A part of him feels that this is wrong. It’s like buying cattle, or going through a marriage market list back in rural Republic. He is a virgin for visiting this kind of store, so his enthusiasm with the culture and weirdness still lingers. Half of an hour have passed, and Lukman is still flipping through the menus, indecisive of his own choice.

“What would be your order, sir?” Hana jokingly teased him with hospitality. Jackson is nowhere to be found, he is sipping wine in the backroom used exclusively by the staff. Lukman scratched his head, so many choices, so little time.

“I would like this one. Code B-55, please.”

Lukman is still unsure with his choice. She doesn’t look like the best, but he doesn’t have time left to think either.

“A fine choice, I will process your order. This dining experience, is of course for mister…?” Her head tilts and the words coming out of her mouth stagnate.

As per tradition, customers are not referred to their real name. This goes back to a time when men spent their night here, instead of with their spouses. The staff would not know much about the customers anyway, they were trained to see and forget hundreds of people coming in and out, a way to preserve their ever decreasing privacy in the modern age.

“Wick. I’ve always wanted to be called Mister Wick.”

“What a name, Mister Wick.” Hana gave him a warm tell of departure, bowing before going backstage to prepare his meal.

Not long after that, Hana came back with a silver plate on her hand. She presents it to Lukman, while bowing as an act of respect. On it is a key, laid on top of a warm towel. He took it and put the towel by his left arm, while he diligently inspected the key against a lamp. The key is analogue, a piece of metal with ridges and painted in silvery shine. Imprinted on the handle is a series of numbers, it says “211”.

“As requested, it will be a three hour service. The room is two level upstairs, then turn left until you reach the end the building. Lastly, please enjoy the night, Mister Wick.”

“Yeah.” Lukman nods back in agreement. The transaction has been settled, now is to reap what he have sown.

The building has no elevator available. Just an old carpeted stairs. By second floor, everything looks red, cold, and dark at the same time. He expected sounds of the others to leak, but that’s not the case. His curiosity took the better of him, his left ear is rested on one of the doors. The jumping, humping, and thumping noise, it’s all there. This is the real deal.

His room, number 211 is now in front of him. He put the key in and turn it with excitement, just like a kid to a candy. Inside, is something that he has been waiting for. The girl of his dream, his choosing, prostrated in white dress on the floor.

“Please raise your head, Miss.”

She raised her head up, but her body is still in the same pose. As he walks closer to her, a fleeting but intense sense of danger took him back several centimeters. Her body is does not match the measurement given in the “menu”. It is off by twenty centimeters too short. Her face, although looked similar, feels unfamiliar to him.

She leapt off the ground, her right hand reached him by the throat. He saw a streak of blood on her white lingerie, but her movement was too fast for him to react. She was able to subdue Lukman despite her small frame. Her right hand is already handling a tiny knife, whilst her left hand is covering his mouth. Lukman concluded that this might be a bust by some government, he regrets not reading the newspaper this morning. Maybe prostitution became illegal again, he thought.

“I will slit your throat if you move, scream, or otherwise made me unhappy. Glasses Man, you are under arrest for slavery of the Heisian people. Give me one reason not to gouge your eyes, or I will send you to god myself!”

Her voice, demeanor, and expression. A familiar trademark he’s aware of. But Lukman is too afraid to speak. His years of working in the field doesn’t prepare him for such an ambush, especially while he’s in his “vacation mode”.

She slowly spreads her finger, allowing Lukman to talk. He is trying to answer her question, as silently as possible. He whispers it, his voice is shaking, the words didn’t came out smoothly. “Who the fuck i-is Glasses Man?”

She quickly tightened her choke, Lukman coughed involuntarily, his spit flies out with great speed. “You know damn well who you are, today is Eros and you always reserved for Miss P!”

“But I’m not here for Miss P, I ordered the Jovian girl!”

Her control of the blade is immaculate, a little movement would be the difference between life and death. She took out a square leathery cloth from her thighs and put it on the ground. She then forcefully put Lukman’s hand on it with just a bit of mana being dripped from her hand. Symbols which hovers above reveals his true identity. It’s clearly different than one she expects.

“You really are not him. Were you being followed?” Her breath continues to slow down.

“What?”

“Shh. I hear something.” Her head tilted sideways by less than a degree, it’s as if she is forced to listen by her subconscious.

Lukman didn’t hear a thing, the room is soundproofed. Yet her ears is trained to pick up the small and imperceivable amplitude of steps, which came outside of the door. Metallic clinks and belt being swung around, a bunch of men lined up in neat formation. She felt men standing toe-to-toe, facing their room.

They look like civilians, no protective gears, nor uniforms. Only shirts, thin clothed tropical pants, and sandals. Her sensitive ears pictured three men, they are readying their guns. A fourth person also present, a bit far from them. It’s their leader. His left-hand is up, signaling his teammates to fire. The leader’s mouth are placed close to the door, enough for Lukman to hear it.

“Enjoy your last day Glasses Man, The Heisian sends their regards! Fire!”

Finger on the trigger, rains of bullets storms and wreak chaos around the room. The projectiles stripped the paints off the wall while crushing any furniture on its way. Thunderous snap of each shots bounces off the walls. The room became an echo chamber that deafens anyone inside. Customers from across the hallway could hear the roar of the gun, like a muffled yet loud bass in a concert. Moments later, they had depleted their last bullets.

Both Lukman and his woman are hiding in prone position. They are unharmed, an unbelievable feats of luck. They shared a moment to stare each other in disbelieve, the woman finally breathe out a sigh of frustration.

“Wait here.” She said in a flat tone.

She crawled back to the other end of the room to grab a shoe, hidden beneath all the blankets which were given by the staff. It has the appearance of regular sneakers, those with higher heels than the male counterpart has. Miss P reached for it, turned the heel counter clockwise, and lobbed it forward. It goes through one of the big holes which was made by the gunshots. The shoe bounces twice off the walls, and settled on top a decorative wooden counter, outside the room.

One of the shooters shouts “Shoe!”. The shoe then releases smoke from its heels, it filled the long hallway with a white, thick, and unbreathable gas. Miss P took a deep breath and marches right out the door, her hands braces for the impact. She decided to smash the door away from its hinges, crushing a man, instantly knocking him out of the fight.

The one farthest away from her, the leader, starts to erratically shoots towards the sound of his men screaming. It created patterns of straight holes within the smokes. His vision is obscured and the flare from his gun did not help. Through sheer amount of speed, the woman starts to punch, knock, and subdue the others. One can only hear bones being crushed, screams of men, followed by a deafening silence.

The leader is moving back in paces. He is trying to flee the effect of the smoke, until his back touched the end of the hallway. A high frequency noise, like that of a knife flying in the air, can be heard for a moment. His body is forced to flinch away from the sound, but that his last mistake. She triangulated the rough position of The Leader’s head, took a handgun from one of the dead body, aim, and then took a shot through the opaque smoke.

For now, the hallway is truly silent. The woman felt her way around, searching for her shoe. She found it buried under a knocked down cupboard. She then deactivated the smoke by rotating its heels back into place.

Lukman is confused and scared by the noise outside of the room. Although currently, he is oblivious to the true cruelty that had just transpired. He is moving slowly outside, reaching the doorway and surprised by the fact it has no door anymore. In the hallway, he saw the woman basking in the nightlight, which steals its ways through the window. She is resting herself, her back pushed to the wall, her mouth calls someone using a smartphone.

“CP, White Bird here. Situation stable, mission status unknown. New instruction needed.” She sounded disappointed. Her target, a man named Glasses Man, should be aware of the firefight and most likely have fled the place.

“CP acknowledge, White Bird stand by. Target acquired, C.U.C. inbound.” She put out a sigh of relieve, at least the main objective has been reached.

“Thanks, but complication. A civie was caught in the middle.”

Clean Up Crew is an elite task-force that have gone through an intense training and certification to restore a place to its original state. Because of their high amount of standards, they are paid by The Agency more than the usual field agents. Although it’s still far below her pay grade.

Control Point, abbreviated as CP, replied in a flat tone. “Negative, more investigation required. Report as soon as possible, sterilize the civilian before proceeding.”

“Understood.”

Lukman heard of the conversation. The word “sterilize” does not feel foreign to his ears. It means interviewing every civilians nearby, get them background checked, and then release them within a given time frame. This is standard procedure, to make sure The Agency’s activity are not disturbing civilian lives. At least not too much.

But she does not know Lukman is working for The Agency, not yet. She stepped away from the moonlight, back into the darkness, and then cornered him using her feet which she planted into the wall. His body is perfectly flush to a maroon colored pillar behind him.The blood of her enemies runs down the hallway, he felt the need to be cautious.

“You will answer me truthfully and quickly. Don’t lie, or you’ll join them instead. Give me your name, habitat, and occupation. Now.”

“L-Lukman, Calculus, Field Agent.” He had his hand up in the air, even when no one instructed him to.

“Field agent? What kind?”

“The Agency kind…”

“Bullshit no you’re not.” She tried to make sense of the situation. For his own safety, she quickly put him under arrest, using a cuff that she found in the nearby drawer. It doesn’t hurt one’s wrist, there’s fluffy pink hair that made sure the skin won’t irritate.

After confirming that he won’t go anywhere, White Bird began to get some air. She is holding down her thoughts by pressing down her head with her hands. She began to realize something. The target is captured, but at the cost of a dead man. Then, a possible field agent, which she assumed to be on a vacation, are unexpectedly caught in the crossfire. This is going to generate a lot of headaches and paperwork.

They sat far apart from each other, thinking about the future. The clean up crew from The Republic will be here soon. As long as they could restore everything before the sunrise, everything transpired here will be nothing but rumors to the civies. Authorities of The Feds will never learn anything about what happened. Naturally, The Republic will deny any involvement.

It feels like no one is winning anything tonight. Except for Jackson, he is enjoying a couple of good wine with Hana nearby.