Zark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, the simple meal settling in his stomach like a lifeline. He stretched, his limbs aching from days of stress, hunger, and exhaustion. His eyes flicked around the squatter area—a patchwork of shanty homes and forgotten souls. The wariness hadn't left him, but at least the hunger was bearable now.
"One more day..."
He muttered to himself, feeling the weight of survival hang heavy on his mind. He didn't know his next step, just that he had to keep moving.
As he stood, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye—a shadow slipping through the maze of makeshift houses, watching him from afar. Zark frowned, his instinct on alert. But in a place like this, everyone was watching. This area was full of desperate people, just like him.
"Probably just another drifter," he thought, shrugging it off.
Unbeknownst to Zark, that shadow wasn't just another passerby. Hidden within the tangle of shanties, the figure pulled out a phone, tapped a few keys, and then vanished into the depths of the squatter labyrinth. Somewhere far beneath the surface, Zark's name was being whispered among people who had been waiting for someone like him for a long time.
Jason Cheng's Base
Jason paced in his office, the tension in the room thick as his men stood silently, their faces pale under the weight of his anger.
"Explain this to me again," Jason growled, his eyes sharp as he glared at his top tech expert, Wei.
"How the hell did he escape?"
Wei stood by a bank of monitors, his fingers moving rapidly across the keyboard as he searched the footage.
"Boss, I've checked everything—every frame, every log—and there's nothing. The system was compromised. Cameras were looped, firewalls were breached, and the power grid was hacked. Whoever this guy is... he's a pro."
Jason slammed his hand down on the desk, making Wei flinch.
"I don't pay you to tell me how good he is," Jason spat, his voice cold.
"I pay you to find him."
Wei swallowed, nodding quickly. His voice trembled slightly.
"I'll find something, boss. He can't hide forever."
Jason stared at Wei for a long, tense moment before turning away, muttering under his breath.
"You'd better. For your own sake."
In the Squatter Area
The door to the small, rundown computer shop creaked open, and Samantha Dela Cruz stepped inside. The place was cluttered with outdated tech, worn-down chairs, and flickering monitors. It might have seemed like any other neighborhood cyber café, but Samantha knew better. This was no ordinary shop.
She took a deep breath as memories surged in—her sister, the injustice, the pain that had driven her to this life.
"I never thought I'd end up here," she whispered to herself, tapping her fingers softly in rhythm with the K-pop tune stuck in her head.
Making her way past the shelves, she glanced around at the familiar walls covered in anime posters. Despite the seriousness of her work, she couldn't help but smile at the mix of old tech and geeky décor. It was comforting, in a strange way.
But beneath the quirky exterior, this shop was a front for something much more. Samantha headed toward the back, where a hidden staircase led down into the real operation—a secret headquarters humming with high-end tech.
As she descended the narrow staircase, the faint sound of keyboards clicking filled the air. The basement was a nerve center, lined with computers, servers, and serious hardware. Black-hooded figures worked at their stations, typing away without a glance in her direction.
One of the figures looked up as she approached. His voice, distorted through a modulator, cut through the quiet.
"You're back. What do you have for us?"
Samantha leaned casually against the wall, crossing her arms.
"I've got him," she said, her tone smug with satisfaction.
The figure paused.
"Zark Morales?"
"Yeah, it's him," Samantha nodded, brushing a curl of her red hair back as she spoke.
"I saw him today in the squatter area. He looks rough, like he's been through hell, but it's definitely him."
The figure leaned back, hands resting on the keyboard.
"You didn't approach him, right?"
Samantha shook her head, her expression serious.
"No. I watched from a distance. He didn't see me."
Suddenly, a voice boomed from the far side of the room as a large flatscreen monitor flickered to life. The shadowy silhouette of their leader appeared, his deep voice commanding the room's attention.
"Samantha," the leader said, his voice calm but authoritative.
"You're sure it was him?"
Samantha stood up straighter, her smirk fading into focus.
"Positive. He was fixing an old computer for some guys in the neighborhood."
The leader's voice remained steady.
"Good. But don't make contact yet. He needs time. Keep an eye on him and report back."
Samantha nodded sharply.
"Understood. I'll keep watching him. When the time's right, I'll bring him in."
The shadowy figure on the screen remained still for a moment longer.
"We've waited long enough for someone like him. But remember—he must come willingly. For now, continue your work."
With that, the screen went dark, and the room returned to its usual hum of activity. Samantha glanced around at the figures working diligently, each of them a crucial piece of the larger mission. She knew Zark would be a valuable asset, but he wasn't like the others. He was broken—burdened by his past, lost in the wreckage of his choices.
Samantha's fingers tapped rhythmically on the desk as she sat down, humming a soft anime tune under her breath.
"Zark Morales..." she whispered to herself, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue.
"You don't know it yet, but you're going to be one of us."
She began typing, her mind drifting back to the drawing her sister had made—the one that still hung on her wall, a picture of her hero. Everything Samantha did was for her. Every action, every decision—it all came back to that one vow for justice.
"Soon," she whispered, determination seeping into her voice.
"Soon, we'll change everything."