The stadium buzzed with chaos.
Teachers scrambled to herd the students into groups, security guards tightened the perimeter, keeping everyone from spilling onto the field.
A voice cracked through the stadium's speakers:
"All Junior High students, please return to your corresponding classrooms and await further notice."
Rob nudged Matt with his elbow.
"Man... he looked like he had a heart attack."
Matt, finally calming his racing heartbeat, shrugged casually.
"With his age? Honestly, wouldn't be surprised."
The two snickered.
That type of nervous, half guilty laugh teenagers do when something insane happens and they don't know how to process it.
Students shuffled back toward the school buildings, still buzzing with rumors.
Rob sighed loudly as they made their way back to their classroom.
"Well, that's a bummer."
He flopped into his seat, digging into his pocket to pull out his phone.
"Tch. Guess I'll just chill."
And with that, he was already tapping into Genshin Impact, thumbs moving over the screen.
Matt leaned against the wall next to Rob's desk, arms crossed, staring into nothing.
"Whatever just happened… that was cool as hell.." he thought, smirking to himself.
Matt wasn't the type to spiral into anxiety.
If anything, near death experiences only made life feel a little less boring.
He didn't die.
That was good enough for him.
He stayed like that for a while, half-zoned out, until the speaker blared again:
"All Junior High students, please proceed to the ground floor. Teachers will be guiding you."
Groaning and muttering, the students filed down the stairwells like a reluctant army.
Once downstairs, the teachers instructed everyone to sit along the walls of the massive ground floor lobby.
It was a weird sight, hundreds of teenagers, some in expensive watches and designer sneakers, some in simple worn backpacks, all equalized by the chaos.
Matt spotted his driver waiting near the entrance, his usual poker face in place, hands clasped behind his back.
Matt grabbed his backpack, heading towards it.
Rob trailed close behind.
"Yo, Matt," Rob said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, "I think I'm just gonna wait for my uncle. Thanks though."
Matt grinned.
"You sure? I was gonna hit the mall."
Rob laughed.
"Nah man, it's my sister's birthday today. We're gonna celebrate."
Matt gave a casual salute.
"Aight, bro."
He slid into the backseat of the sleek black Honda Civic, the driver already pulling the car smoothly out of the school gates.
Accompanied by two casually dressed guards posing as regular assistants.
The mall was already lively when they arrived.
Matt stepped out, hands in his pockets, hoodie thrown over his uniform shirt, looking way too relaxed for someone trailed by plainclothes bodyguards.
His guards moved just enough to blend in not too stiff, not too obvious, except for the dark sunglasses they insisted on wearing indoors.
"Damn it, they're trying, but they still look like bodyguards."
Matt chuckled quietly to himself.
They made their way toward the Samsung Store, a sleek glass walled outlet gleaming with the latest tech displays.
Matt stayed just outside the entrance, scrolling on his current beat up phone, while one of the guards walked up to the front counter.
The conversation was brief.
The guard leaned in and said lowly, "Got any S24 Ultras in stock?"
The store clerk nodded, but added, "We're really sorry, sir, card payments are offline today."
The other guard stepped forward, placing a silver briefcase on the counter with a dull clunk.
He snapped it open.
Inside, neatly stacked bundles of cash, thick, clean ₱100,000 in bills.
"Cash works?" the guard said without missing a beat.
The clerk's jaw practically hit the floor.
"Uh—"
She glanced at her manager, who gave a stiff nod.
"We'll... just need to count it, store policy."
They counted every last bill while nervously side-eyeing Matt outside the glass, trying to figure out who the hell he was.
The money was perfect, down to the last peso.
Minutes later, they handed over a sleek new Galaxy S24 Ultra, double-wrapped and packed like a sacred artifact.
Matt simply nodded once as the guard handed him the bag, and the whole group turned and walked off like nothing had happened.
Inside the store, the staff broke into whispers the second they were gone.
"Who even were they?"
"Could've been dirty money.."
"We need to get the police involved."
—--------------------
The Civic glided smoothly back through the gated community entrance of Wodrews Estate, a place so exclusive that some CEOs spent decades on the waiting list just to own a lot.
Homekeepers and additional guards greeted him as he walked through the massive front doors of the mansion.
Matt tossed his bag onto a marble bench and went straight upstairs, unboxing the new phone as he went.
He flopped onto his oversized bed and began transferring everything from his old phone, connecting his cloud account with muscle memory.
"Finally... an upgrade."
He scrolled casually, setting up wallpaper, apps, accounts, when the news announcement hit.
"BREAKING: Chancellor of Vandeloz University Pronounced Dead."
"Fedilino Abunsinto Ramos II Collapses During School Event, Dies On Scene."
"Chancellor's Sudden Death Sparks Investigation; Global Attention Drawn to Prestigious Philippine Institutions."
Even New York Times had picked it up.
Matt sat up straighter, watching the headlines multiply.
The reported cause of death?
Still "Under Investigation."
Matt leaned back, staring at the ceiling for a long moment. Then stood up.
He tossed his old phone aside like it was a relic of a past life.
Now in his hand was the sleek, matte-finished Samsung S24 Ultra, its curved screen glimmering under his ceiling lights like a piece of alien tech.
The weight of it, the clean haptic feedback, the fluidity of the UI, everything screamed premium.
He tapped through the menus like he'd owned it for years.
"Damn."he muttered, watching the refresh rate melt between screens like silk. "This is what I've been missing?"
He opened the Play Store and searched for Call of Duty: Mobile.
He logged into his account. The game launched. Cutscenes played crisp and seamless, not a single frame drop.
As he dropped into a ranked match, he grinned.
"Man… upgrading really was the right choice."
Gunfire echoed in his earbuds. The smoothness, the sound design everything was immersive.
His fingers moved like muscle memory, and it felt like he was suddenly better at the game just because the phone was that good.
Then he remembered something.
He pulled open his minimized chat with Rob, and typed:
"Hey man, wanna play some games?"
Send.
He leaned back into his headboard, waiting for a reply.
Seconds passed.
No typing indicator.
So, he went back to the game.
Matt played two matches, back to back, annihilating every player on the map. Each kill felt more satisfying than the last.
The triggers on the screen were extremely responsive.
Then — his phone buzzed.
Rob: "man holy shit, we're hiding in a bathroom rn"
Matt blinked. He sat up straighter, staring at the screen.
"What?"
He tapped out a reply fast.
Matt: "Wtf? What's happening?"
The typing indicator showed.
It disappeared.
Came back.
Disappeared again.
Then finally —
Rob: "I'm using free data rn so it's laggy, there's gunfight outside"
Matt's stomach dropped.
His eyes darted across the message again, not believing it the first time.
Matt: "CALL THE POLICE"
Rob: "we did but no one's answering"
Matt clenched his jaw, fingers moving lightning-fast.
Matt: "TF WHERE ARE YOU RN?"
Rob: "sr foods"
Matt: "exact location"
Rob: "idk man, near zamuras?"
Rob: "why?"
Matt: "stay there"
Rob: "ik bruh"
Rob: "my phone's at 3%"
Matt didn't type anything back.
He was already gone.
The phone slipped into his pocket in one smooth motion as he dashed out of the room, footsteps thundering down the marble steps of the mansion.
—------------
At Sr. Foods, the smell of burnt oil, gunpowder, and fear filled the air.
Screams had quieted down — not because the danger passed, but because people were too scared to make a sound.
Inside the fast food restaurant, customers were huddled behind overturned tables, crouched beneath chairs, or locked in the bathroom stalls, clutching each other, whispering desperate prayers.
Children whimpered softly.
A man in a TAKE delivery uniform whispered "Hail Mary" over and over.
A young couple gripped hands s1o tightly their knuckles turned white.
Outside, traffic had come to a complete halt. Drivers ducked under dashboards. Some abandoned their cars and ran. Others stayed, trembling.
Gunshots cracked through the air, echoing down the street like firecrackers of death.
Bystanders peeked from behind parked cars and lamp posts, recording shaky footage on their phones.
One of them was Anna Santiago, a 21 year old intern at Rabber (A Philippine digital media company).
Her heart pounded so loud she thought it would give away her position. She was hiding behind a large trash bin just a few steps from Sr. Foods' side entrance.
Her hands trembled as she held up her phone. But the camera stayed focused.
She whispered to herself.
"Focus, Anna… this needs to be seen."
Her phone buzzed with missed calls and ignored messages from classmates and her parents.
She looked around, spotting a mother shielding her son behind a car, the boy sobbing silently. Anna's jaw tightened.
"You got into journalism for this, right?"
she whispered. "Not just press events.
Not safe stories. You wanted the truth."
Her voice cracked slightly. She swallowed hard.
"Just... breathe."
She started recording again, steadying her phone with both hands.
From her angle, she could see three groups — not two — exchanging gunfire.
The bullets didn't care who they belonged to. They flew wild, slamming into walls, windows, tires, even a parked motorcycle that burst into flames.
Near a delivery truck, two men in ragged tactical vests were pinned down behind a busted sedan.
"Son of a bitch! You're already out of ammo?!"
One of them yelled, panic in his voice.
"I got one clip left!" his partner shouted, fumbling through his vest.
Another guy from a rival group took cover near a roadside kiosk, yelling at someone over a radio:
"These aren't the fucking guys from Calapan, they're from Derans! We've been set up!"
The man next to him peeked from cover and fired three shots toward the other group.
"Bitch, die!!"
Suddenly —
CRACK!
The man was hit in the leg.
"AHH—FUCKK!!" the guy screamed, dropping his gun and clutching his thigh as blood soaked through his jeans.
"Shit! Shit! Hold on—" the other screamed, crawling over and dragging him behind a cement barrier. "Stay with me bro. Don't pass out!"
"My fucking leg!!!"
Gunshots tore through the walls of Sr. Foods. Glass shattered inside.
Back in the restroom, someone cried, "They're gonna kill us!"
"No they're not"Rob nervously whispered, clutching his dead phone in one hand, a piece of metal pipe in the other.
Meanwhile, Anna whispered into her mic as she continued recording:
"This is Anna Santiago, Student journalist. Sr. Foods, near Zamuras, Manila. Multiple armed groups in a firefight. Police are still not responding. I've called them seven times."
She ducked as another bullet pinged off a nearby pole.
"I'm documenting everything. If anything happens to me, please… tell the truth. Someone has to."
She turned her camera toward the bloodied pavement. Toward the chaos.
As Anna turned her head to reposition for a better view—
CRACK.
A single bullet pierced through her chest.
Her body jerked and collapsed to the pavement like a ragdoll.
Her phone hit the ground first, landing with the screen facing up.
The camera continued to roll, recording nothing but the sky and the sound of gunfire in the distance.
She lay motionless. Blood slowly began to spread beneath her.
For a second, it was like time paused.
Then—
RRRRRRMMMMMMM
A low rumble.
The sound of multiple engines, not just one.
From down the road, blacked-out SUVs and armored sedans surged forward, their tires tearing across the asphalt.
The synchronized growl of tuned engines echoed through the streets like a war cry.
Brakes screeched.
Doors flung open.
--TO BE CONTINUED--