Finally, the day arrived..
It was 7 a.m., and the team had been on alert since 5 a.m. No one dared to close their eyes. But nothing had happened yet.
"So, it means they'll act at 7 p.m. then…"
Silence. Utter silence. Everyone was still, confused. "What should we do now?"
"Stay alert! No one can let their guard down!" Handoko's voice cut through the quiet, trying to rekindle their spirits, but the tension on his face couldn't be hidden.
4:00 p.m..
The dawn of December 12th blanketed the team in a chilling silence, only heightening the sense of dread. Every plan had been laid out with precision, each officer stationed in high-risk zones. The Pulogadung area had transformed into an improvised fortress, bustling with police checkpoints, surveillance units, rescue teams, and anti-terror special forces. Dozens, even hundreds, of trucks—big and small—were rigorously inspected as they passed through toll gates, yet hours passed without a single hint of danger.
Inside, they felt like time was slipping away, drawing them closer to the feared hour. The afternoon sun began dipping toward the west, casting longer, darker shadows across the streets of Pulogadung and Cakung. Yenny bit her lip, her frustration growing in the empty anticipation. "They must know we're here," she muttered, restraining her disappointment. Everyone was exhausted, yet their anxiety ran too deep to allow for rest, or even a momentary pause.
Handoko paced back and forth, his mind racing with thoughts of what clues or signs they might have missed. He glanced around at each member of his team. Maya, stationed at the bus terminal, was observing every expression and movement of each person entering, seeking any small sign that could be a clue. Joko and Lia remained at the truck checkpoint, eyes fixed on each shipment as the police conducted their searches, fearful of missing the slightest irregularity.
Rano was near the medical unit, preparing for the worst possible outcome. He double-checked that every piece of equipment, every team member, was ready to respond to a potential nightmare that none of them wanted to imagine. In the distance, the rumble of truck engines echoed, adding to the sense that something inevitable was approaching.
At 4:30 p.m., a sense of unease crept in even more. It was as if the city itself was holding its breath. They all knew that if the attack was real, everything could descend into chaos within hours. The faint sound of sirens echoed from afar, yet still no sign of their target—a shadow that loomed over them, refusing to reveal itself.
Handoko stopped, looking into his teammates' eyes one by one, sensing the glimmer of fear they tried so hard to hide. Amid the activity, in seconds that felt as though they stretched out forever, there was a shared understanding suspended in the air: they stood on the edge of a precipice, not knowing when or from which direction the blow would fall.
Then, at precisely 5 p.m.,
Just two hours before the anticipated incident, every screen in the command center suddenly lit up. The familiar, chilling symbol of *The Punisher* flashed across the monitors, the screen's background dimmed, and a message began to type out in bold letters:
"To those entrusted with the city's safety, heed my final words. The truth, hidden in plain sight, will become clear tonight. Sacrifices were made, so many lost so that this message could reach you. I urge you, listen to me now.
Your target is the building on the corner of Jl. Mangga Dua. Tonight, at 7 p.m., it will be filled with the joy and warmth of early Christmas gatherings, innocent people unaware of the horror that awaits. You have the power to stop this, to prevent the loss of hundreds of lives. Don't let my sacrifice be in vain."
As the command center sprang into action, Joko stood frozen in the background, watching the frenzy unfold. Something didn't sit right with him. The location, the timing, even the message itself—he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to it. But as he tried to voice his concerns to Rano, he was met with skepticism.
"Rano," Joko stammered, still struggling to articulate his thoughts, "I don't know… I-I… something's off. This Punisher message, it d-d-doesn't feel right. M-Maybe… maybe we're looking at the wrong place?"
Rano, busy coordinating the teams, barely glanced at him. "Joko, we don't have time for doubts. The message says 7 p.m., that building, all the people gathering… we'd be foolish not to act on it."
"But wh-what if it's a trick?" Joko pressed, his voice tinged with desperation. "What if… what if they're trying to distract us from something bigger? Like… like—"
"Joko!" Rano cut him off. "Enough. We can't afford to second-guess now. Handoko made the call, and we're following it. This is serious. People's lives are on the line."
The dismissive tone struck a nerve. Joko's face flushed with frustration, and he felt the sting of being disregarded. As his doubts mounted, he felt he had to do something on his own.
Without another word, he grabbed his helmet, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and left the building.
"Go! Go! Go! What are you waiting for? MOVE!" Handoko's voice roared across the command center. His command sparked a frenzy of activity as every vehicle roared to life, engines growling with urgency.
The entire convoy surged forward, kicking up clouds of smoke and dust in their wake. The streets were suddenly filled with the unmistakable sound of vehicles speeding away, the air thick with tension. A crowd of onlookers stood frozen at the sight. "What's happening?!" one person gasped. "It must be huge... they're all rushing together like this—A bomb?!"
Social media exploded.
Pictures, videos, and frantic posts flooded every platform.
"What's going on?!"
"Something big's happening!!"
"Is it a terrorist attack??!!"
The comments flooded in by the second. People were glued to their phones, their eyes wide with fear.
"What's the real story?!"
"Do you think it's a bomb?"
The word was spreading like wildfire. A whirlwind of rumors and fear took over the digital world. But no one, not even Handoko or the team, was willing to speak. They had been ordered to remain silent. The press was pressing for answers. "Where is the team headed? What's happening in Pulogadung? Where is the danger?!" TV stations and major news outlets were calling, their reporters eager for information.
The only thing that came through was static. The silence from the command center was deafening.
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The large hall at the corner of Jl. Mangga Dua was already buzzing with excitement. A crowd of families, dressed in their best holiday attire, gathered with eager smiles and laughter. The air inside was thick with the warmth of shared joy, a mixture of voices and gentle hums filling the room as friends and family members embraced and exchanged greetings.
The decorations around the hall were nothing short of magical. Brightly lit garlands framed the doors and windows, red-and-gold ornaments sparkled from the ceilings, and in the center of the room stood a towering Christmas tree adorned with silver stars and shimmering lights. Above, glowing snowflake cutouts cast soft patterns across the ceiling, casting a dreamy atmosphere that perfectly matched the festive spirit of the gathering.
An energetic band played well-loved Christmas tunes near the stage. Songs like Silent Night and Joy to the World carried through the hall, lending a nostalgic cheer to the evening, while children sang along, their voices mingling with the notes. In one corner, a group of young mothers looked on with smiles as their children tugged at their hands, eager to join the dance floor. On the opposite side of the hall, elderly couples sat close, their eyes bright with memories of holidays past, nodding to the beat with faint smiles.
Even those who were attending alone couldn't help but feel included in the warmth. The strangers around them greeted one another like old friends, the season's cheer blending everyone's lives together for a few joyful hours. Conversations flowed, punctuated by bursts of laughter and the occasional excited cheer as guests reconnected with loved ones. The sense of community was palpable, every face alight with the joy of being there.
A little boy, no older than six, pointed at the massive Christmas tree with wide-eyed wonder. "Mom, look! It's taller than Daddy!" he exclaimed, his voice full of awe as his mother chuckled, pulling him close for a hug.
At the main entrance, the ushers smiled as they handed out small gifts and candles for the upcoming carol session. The crowd moved along slowly but contentedly, and many paused to admire the decorations as they entered. The hall's ballroom was slowly reaching its capacity, with newcomers streaming in even as the clock ticked closer to 7 p.m.
In the background, some workers and event organizers were making last-minute checks. They smiled as they walked past the joyful crowd, exchanging quick updates on sound checks, lighting, and seat arrangements, careful not to disrupt the guests' enjoyment.
Yet, beneath all the joy and laughter, there was a hint of something tense in the air, almost imperceptible—a slight undercurrent of uncertainty. For now, though, the crowd was oblivious. They were here to celebrate, surrounded by loved ones, in an environment of warmth and light. The thought of any danger felt far from this scene of merriment, where worries were momentarily set aside in favor of holiday cheer.
With just under thirty minutes to go until the hour, the hall continued to fill.
The room erupted into action. Handoko's eyes widened in both fear and relief. "Jl. Mangga Dua? That's the new commercial district—there's a huge event hall there!" His heart raced as he checked the venue, confirming that it was indeed hosting a major early Christmas celebration, with guests expected to start arriving within the hour.
"Get every available unit to Jl. Mangga Dua," he barked, his voice filling with a mixture of hope and conviction. "Bomb disposal, surveillance, and additional patrols. I want that place secured by 6 p.m.!" For the first time that day, Handoko felt a glimmer of satisfaction. He could see the plan falling into place; it all made sense now. The event, the crowd, the time… they were ready.
However, as they moved into action, he felt a weight settle over his heart—a reminder that if they missed this, it would be more than his career on the line. Hundreds of lives depended on their success tonight.
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The atmosphere in the team's control room was electric with tension, yet Handoko allowed himself a faint smile. Finally, he believed, they were close to stopping this terrible plan. The entire team shared in his confidence; the location was secured, and they had positioned rescue units, bomb disposal experts, and anti-terror operatives throughout the building. But amid the confidence, the tension was still high—the clock was ticking, and their lives hinged on their assumptions being correct.
Joko, on the other hand, wasn't convinced. He shifted uneasily, feeling the weight of something he couldn't quite pinpoint. Every piece of the puzzle replayed in his mind, the scattered details, the strange codes, the pattern of attacks. Something wasn't right, yet he couldn't put his finger on it. He squeezed his eyes shut, mentally combing through each memory, every line of code, each street and intersection that had mattered before.
Suddenly, a loud, unmistakable sound split the air—the piercing whistle of a train.
"TRAIN?"
His eyes snapped open, a chill spreading through him as the realization crashed over him. The codes, the locations, the whole focus—it wasn't a truck they were after. It should be a train.
Handoko looked up in alarm as Joko shouted out, his words spilling out in a rush,
"Tr-tr-train! Not truck...it's...it's the t-train!"
A beat of silence followed, but then Handoko's eyes widened, his own understanding catching up in a heartbeat. How had they missed it? They had thought the pattern was clear, that it would follow the same truck-based setup. But they'd been wrong. This wasn't about a specific building, but the route—the route of the **train** cutting straight through the city.
He didn't need to give any orders—Joko had already bolted for the exit, practically flying down the hallway and out into the street. He spotted a security officer's motorcycle and commandeered it, adrenaline pumping as he sped toward the tracks. He knew that he didn't have a second to spare; if they didn't intercept the train before it reached the crossing, disaster was all but certain.
Handoko's mind raced with cold clarity. He barked out orders to Rano, "Follow him! Grab a bike and catch up. It's not the building—it's the "train crossing!"
Rano leapt into action, mounting a second motorcycle and gunning it to full speed as he followed Joko's trail. Handoko, meanwhile, turned to Maya, who stood wide-eyed and ready. "Come with me," he said urgently, pulling her along as he grabbed the last available motorcycle. "We'll get to the crossing gate. Maya, you need to observe the people near the gate and find anything suspicious."
Her nod was quick and determined, though her fear was clear. The two of them sped through the streets, weaving through the packed roads and narrow alleys, the weight of their mission pressing down on them like a vise.
Maya's heart hammered as their neared the tracks, the train already visible in the distance, its headlights cutting through the dim evening. He scanned the area, his eyes landing on the crossing gate officer standing by the controls. Something was wrong with the way the man was acting—muttering to himself, looking skyward with a disturbingly serene expression, as though savoring some secret victory. He watched the officer raise his arms in an almost religious gesture, eyes glazed with a twisted satisfaction.
Maya, riding with Handoko, immediately picked up on the man's expression and nudged him frantically. Her fingers flew in quick, urgent gestures: "Something's wrong. The officer. Look at him!"
Handoko followed her gaze, his face tightening as he understood. The officer was reaching for the gate control to open it, ready to let the train roar through an unblocked crossing. Handoko didn't hesitate. He leapt off the bike, charging at the officer just in time to pull the lever back down. The man struggled, but Handoko's grip was iron-tight, his face a mask of grim determination. He couldn't allow the gate to open. Not when it would mean certain catastrophe.
The two men wrestled with the control lever, the struggle harsh and desperate, but Handoko's strength and resolve ultimately won out. He restrained the officer, locking him in place as Maya quickly observed the surroundings for any other signs of danger.
But while Handoko and Maya secured the gate, Joko and Rano faced a graver challenge: stopping the train itself.
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Joko and Rano reached the train, which had begun to slow—but not enough. It was still speeding towards the crossing, where a crowd of cars, motorcycles, and pedestrians were unknowingly waiting at one of the busiest gates in Jakarta. Around the tracks, densely packed houses sat mere meters from the rails. If the train didn't stop in time, it wouldn't just be the vehicles on the tracks that would be hit; homes would be destroyed, and the chaos would likely spiral into a scene of devastation for blocks. They had only seconds left to act.
Without a word, they synchronized their movements. Each steeling himself for what his only chance might be. They lunged toward the moving train, arms outstretched to grab hold of the metal railings.
The first attempt failed.
Joko stumbled, just managing to catch himself before pushing off to try again. Rano reached out, his fingers brushing the cold metal. They tried again, timing the jump perfectly, but still missed—almost close enough, yet painfully out of reach. Each missed attempt brought them closer to disaster as the train bore down on the crossing, relentlessly closing in on the crowd of unsuspecting people and families waiting beyond.
On the third attempt, finally, their fingers closed around the handrails.
They hauled themselves aboard with a burst of adrenaline, the momentum nearly pulling them forward as they scrambled onto the car. Racing down the narrow, dimly lit aisle, they felt every shudder and jolt as the train thundered onward. They had only seconds now before it would reach the crossing.
Ahead, the driver's compartment came into view, and through the glass, they spotted the shadowed figure of the man at the controls. As they burst through the door, the driver turned to face them, his eyes hardened and devoid of fear. He seemed prepared—too prepared. In his hand, a blade gleamed under the dim light, and without hesitation, he lunged at Rano.
Rano barely avoided the swipe, his reflexes sharp as he twisted aside and swung a fist, aiming to knock the weapon from the driver's grip. But the driver was agile, shifting his stance to take a swing at Joko instead. Joko dodged, but not without feeling the searing pain of the blade grazing his arm, slicing deep. He gritted his teeth, pushing through the pain as his focus only intensified.
They moved in unison, a deadly choreography of attacks and dodges as they tried to wrestle the knife from the driver's hand. The driver slashed wildly, managing to strike Rano's shoulder, but in a sudden, desperate move, Joko tackled him from behind. The element of surprise knocked the man off balance, and Rano seized the chance, grabbing the knife and flinging it aside.
With the driver subdued, Rano leapt into the driver's seat, his hands moving over the controls. His experience took over as he gripped the brakes, pulling with all his might. Metal wheels shrieked in defiance as the brakes fought the weight and speed of the train. Sparks flew around them, casting an eerie glow as the train struggled against its own momentum.
The train began to slow, inch by inch, wheels screaming against the rails.
Outside, Handoko and Maya stood with bated breath, watching as the train finally came to a stop just shy of the crossing. Cars and people on the other side were oblivious to how close they had come to tragedy.
A sigh of relief swept through them, but Joko and Rano, still clutching the controls with labored breaths, were acutely aware of the catastrophe they had narrowly averted.
As the train screeched to a stop, the chaos it left in its wake was immediate. Passengers inside the train stumbled and were thrown off balance, colliding with each other as they were jolted forward by the abrupt braking. Some screamed, others clutched the nearest handrails or seats, desperately trying to steady themselves, while mothers shielded their children from falling bags and sudden lurches.
Outside, the crossing was a scene of confusion and terror. Bikers, cars, and pedestrians had barely started to notice the incoming danger when the train barreled toward them. Some attempted to back up, while others froze in fear, their eyes widening as they watched the massive machine approach far too quickly.
Children along the crowded edge of the railway estate, where small houses and crowded market stalls lined the tracks, clung to their parents, eyes filled with terror. A few began to cry, their small voices adding to the panic as they sensed the danger looming closer and closer. Parents swept their children into their arms, shielding them as best they could while watching the train's wheels throw sparks, their only hope that it would stop in time.
The sound of screeching metal filled the air, drowning out even the loudest cries and yells. Residents poured out of their homes, some pressing hands to their mouths as they saw how narrowly the train had avoided disaster. A collective gasp and sigh of relief rippled through the crowd as the train came to a final, shaky stop mere meter from the crowded gate.
Joko and Rano, still inside the driver's compartment, exchanged a glance, realizing how close they had come to catastrophe. Their hearts pounded as they took in the enormity of what they had just averted. They had saved the lives of hundreds, but the adrenaline and lingering terror reminded them of how narrowly they'd done it.
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Stepping out of the train, Joko and Rano blinking in the cool night air, every inch of them aching with exhaustion and the remnants of adrenaline. The two men looked at each other, eyes wide with disbelief and relief. They had done it. They had stopped the train, thwarting the horrific plan.
As they made their way to the crossing, they saw Handoko and Maya, their faces reflecting the same mixture of relief and awe. For a long moment, the four of them simply looked at each other, taking in the enormity of what they had just achieved. Then, almost as if on cue, they began to laugh—laughter full of disbelief, of tension released, of the realization that they had won.
Handoko grinned, his face lined with exhaustion but his eyes shining with pride. "We did it," he said, the words barely audible over their laughter.
Maya smiled, her fingers signing words of joy and gratitude, her usually quiet expression now animated with triumph. Joko, still catching his breath, managed a sheepish grin, his face reflecting pride and a new sense of belonging.
The four of them stood together in the quiet aftermath, framed by the halted train and the flickering streetlights, knowing that they had averted an unimaginable tragedy—and that, for now, they could rest easy.
-------------------------------End of Chapter 15------------------------------------