"So it's true… you actually did it. But why?" Raymond asked.
"Before I say why. Tell me what your first impression was when you found out what thoughts each of you had and what you thought of me." Timothy said,
"Derick's voice broke through, carrying the weight of anger," he said. "Mass murderer, impatient; no matter what they could have done, they don't deserve death, not like this."
Timothy walked closer. "Oh, I see. He flashed his eyes to Raymond. He asked. Anything you want to say. Raymond looked away. Tim turned to Layla. You got any. She also didn't answer.
He grabbed a chair seat, and a low chuckle was let out. "I don't mind you all feeling this way, but I'm sure if you were in my shoes, you'd do the same."
Derick said to him. "Are you sure about that?"
He replied. "One hundred percent, we're all humans after all."
Derick challenged, "You speak like it's some angelic reason. It better be a good one, or you and I are going to kill each other right here and now."
Timothy, seated on the chair, raised his hands, saying to them all. "Is he going to be the only one to talk, because you all are making it seem that even if I give my reason, you're going to look away from the fact that I had no choice."
Larry answered this time. "Say the reason why you had no choice."
"Oh, I'd definitely say it." His eyebrows arrowed at each other, and he asked, "You went to look for Jean Bassett, didn't you? Did you find her?"
"No, but we got some info about her." Larry answered.
Of course you wouldn't. You know why? Because she was with me at the restaurant." Timothy's voice carried weight.
The words struck them deep; they resounded in their heads. Silence closed in on the room, and their faces were painted with bewilderment.
Amid the shock, Derick asked an awkward question. 'You met her… what state was she in?'"
"What did you just say?" Timothy asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
Raymond, close to him, said. "Derick what are you saying? don't tell me you're—
Derick shook his head, waving off Raymond's thoughts. "No, I'm not under her control. It's just that, remember what her parents said, she was taken over by her alter ego; who knows, maybe just maybe she was in her right mind."
Timothy let out a low chuckle. It grew, echoing off the walls, until it became a full, unsettling laugh. When he finally stopped, his voice cut through the silence with steely intensity. "Are you trying to justify her for some words her parents said? I don't know what transpired from where you went, but if you're trying to tell me that the Jean Bassett I met today is justifiable, then you have no right to crucify me."
He got up from his seat, fist clenched, brown eyes lasered towards them, voice aloud. "She turned those people into puppets with one thought: to kill me. She and her boss put me in a tough spot to decide between my loved ones or some randoms. If you think I'd pick people I don't know from Adam over my family, then you're goddamn fools. His tone dropped but filled the room with its calmness. I am that selfish because I'm human."
Raymond's icy eyes lowered. In his mind, he thought:
I must have heard wrong. He said… her boss, didn't he?
The very thought was voiced aloud by Larry.
"You said her boss? Did you actually see him—or her?"
Timothy's reply was calm but heavy.
"Yes. I did. I met the psychopath behind it all."
The reveal left nothing but silence—faces all bronze, no one spoke. The commander swept back her burgundy hair and cracked the silence:
Timothy, each of us would have done the same if we were in the same spot. Listen, I have known you for a while now, and you're someone who's calculative of things. Now the main agenda is what we can do to stop these people. A lot are dying; the higher-ups are choking me now. We need to act fast.
Timothy exhaled, swallowing hard as he returned to his seat. Every pair of eyes locked on him. He spoke at last: "His name is Al-daeem. He calls himself the leader of their group—The Retribution."
"TheRetribution. Larry repeated. Meaning punishment, so they're enacting revenge on the city." He added.
"My thoughts exactly," Timothy said.
Raymond lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, as if grasping for answers. "Why, though?"
"That, I don't know." He paused, then continued, "But I'm pretty sure he's superhuman. I didn't meet the rest of them." His eyes shifted to Derick. "It was just Jean—she's the heart of it, the woman's pull. Al-daeem told me I've already kicked off phase two. Any moment now, the rest of it will hit the city."
Layla hit the table furiously—her composure broke a bit, and she yelled. "Not even a breather; it's just one day."
Raymond's side-eye caught Derick's subtle state—he hadn't said a word since, Raymond asked. "What's wrong? You've been mute for a while."
Derick coughed, covering his mouth with his hands, and he answered. "Oh, it's nothing; I just... just got beat, you know."
Hmmm, something's wrong with him. Is she back in his head? No, but still I'm keeping an eye on him.
They sat in silence, trying to piece together a plan, but nothing came. The day dragged on, and outside, the city moved in uneasy quiet—the slaughter had left a tension that clung to every street.
7:26 pm.
A huge mansion rocking with white lights stood in the midst of bungalows in the streets of Atkinson Drive. The building housed two familiar figures, Al-daeem and Jean Bassett.
Al-Daeem sat on a high chair by his side; seated was Jean, who clung close to him. By his right side stood a shadowy figure, while another up ahead sat dressed in full black covering. Al-Daeem spoke in the midst of the silence.
"It was one hell of a show. Did you get that, Silas? You should be able to recreate it right."
The one named Silas answered confidently. "Will do better than that. Child's play compared to me."
Al-Daeem smirked, saying, "Back to Silas." "You've always been confident; very soon you'll show that confidence to the world."
"Yes, sir." Silas said,
The other figure has a skeletal silhouette cut in, saying. "Sir, do we actually need those guys?"
Al-Daeem at first didn't know who he meant, but a lightning bolt of realization struck him; he remembered. "Oh, Sun and Wukong, we need a little more firepower; they have the sparks for it."
The silhouette asked. "Will they be willing to join our cause?"
Al-Daeem let out quite the laugh, a maniacal smile carved on his face, he said. "Their opinions don't matter; if they won't join willingly, they'll join forcefully."