7-1 Coffe Ritual
Bang!
Crash!
Giono kicked the table in front of him. Pieces of wood splintered, scattering shards across the floor. A glass of coffee teetered on the edge before spilling, leaving dark streaks across the carpet.
Packs of Sukro-brand peanuts and Djarumkretek cigarettes tumbled onto the floor with soft thuds.
Giono stomped back a step, his chest rising and falling like a bellows.
Giono: "Weladalah! Weduus! Wedus!"
His eyes blazed red, veins standing out on his temple. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms, trying to contain the storm brewing inside him.
Fifty of his men bowed silently, backs stiff, hands clasped, not daring to breathe too loudly.
The Green Gang headquarters suddenly fell into an almost eerie silence. A few ceiling fans spun lazily, as if afraid to disturb the tension.
Giono: "Karto! Make coffee! Quickly!"
Karto jumped, nearly tripping over a fallen peanut pack.
Karto: "Yes, Boss!"
Quick-thinking Turiman stepped forward, snapping his fingers at two men.
Turiman: "You, Parto, and Suraji, bring a new table in front of the boss!"
The two men scrambled, dragging a fresh table. One of them stumbled over a splinter, wincing before recovering.
Giono: "Karto, don't forget! Make it bitter!"
Karto saluted hastily, almost tipping over a chair.
Karto: "Yes, Boss!"
Giono: "Two spoons of coffee, half a spoon of sugar."
Karto: "Yes, Boss!"
Giono: "Stir it eighteen times. Not less, not more!"
Several Green Gang members snorted quietly, trying to suppress smiles. A bead of sweat trickled down Turiman's forehead as he glanced nervously at Giono.
Karto dashed to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a steaming cup of bitter coffee. The aroma hit the room, sharp and intoxicating.
Slurp!
Giono: "Weduus! Perfect, Karto. Two spoons of coffee, half a spoon of sugar, stirred eighteen times…"
Some men wiped tears of suppressed laughter from their eyes.
Giono lifted the cup, inhaling deeply before taking another sip. His shoulders relaxed, chest rising and falling more evenly.
Blood circulation slowed, his head cleared. The anger that had boiled inside him seemed to settle like sediment in a cup of coffee.
He tapped the side of the cup lightly with his finger, eyes scanning the room, calculating, plotting. His voice softened, but a sharp gleam lingered in his gaze.
***
7-2 Mariana's Cunning
Giono: "Weladalah… This cannot be tolerated! This is outrageous!"
His men remained motionless, hands hanging by their sides. Some chewed their lips nervously.
Giono lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. Smoke curled around his face, accentuating his furrowed brows.
Giono: "Danu, tell me what happened at Kembang Setaman Discotheque! "
A security guard, shoulders hunched, stepped forward. His hands trembled slightly as he fidgeted with his cap.
Danu: "It happened very quickly, quietly, and silently."
Giono leaned forward, elbows on the table, his fingers drumming lightly.
Giono: "What do you mean?"
Danu swallowed, eyes flicking to the floor.
Danu: "There was no resistance. Until finally, Handoyo voluntarily handed over the disco to the Big Lady."
Giono: "Weladalah… Then?"
Danu: "They threatened Handoyo's wife and children."
Giono's eyes widened. Smoke escaped his mouth in jagged streams. His hands clenched into fists on the table.
Giono: "Weduus! The Big Lady is truly cunning!"
Danu: "Her bodyguards were also armed."
Giono sipped his coffee, tapping the cigarette against the ashtray with a sharp clink. He leaned back, staring into the half-empty cup.
Giono: "Hmm… And?"
Danu: "No chaos. Even the regular visitors stayed calm, as if nothing happened."
Karto, hands behind his back, nodded grimly.
Karto: "Kembang Setaman Discotheque, owned by Handoyo, is one of the Green Gang's biggest donors in Tanah Abang."
Turiman slammed his palm against the table, sending a small cloud of coffee steam into the air.
Turiman: "This cannot be allowed!"
Fifty Green Gang members erupted in chaos, bumping into one another as they waved fists and shouted.
"Take back what's ours!"
"Let's fight them!"
"Let's beat them up!"
Giono inhaled deeply, letting the smoke curl lazily from his lips, his eyes scanning each member, weighing their energy and loyalty. His cup of coffee was half-empty, yet he savored it as a balm for his brewing temper.
***
7-3 Storming Kembang Setaman Discotheque
A man stepped forward, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other. His gaze avoided Giono directly. This was Kardun.
Kardun: "Everyone is ready to storm Kembang Setaman Discotheque!"
Giono studied him, noting the slight trembling of his shoulders. He was nervous… or afraid.
Closer inspection revealed Kardun's eyes were slightly cross-eyed, darting away from direct confrontation. Yet there was a spark, a glint of determination, hidden behind the wandering gaze.
Giono smiled faintly, curling one corner of his lip.
Giono: "Are you ready yourself, Kardun?"
Kardun's eyes flicked to the ceiling for a split second.
Kardun: "I'm ready, Boss! As long as the others are ready!"
Turiman leaned closer, eyebrow arched.
Turiman: "You're scared, Kardun?"
Kardun grinned, revealing a slight gap in his teeth. Eyes still partially averted, he gave a shaky thumbs-up.
Kardun: "If we attack together, we'll win!"
Karto stepped closer, folding his arms.
Karto: "What if you go alone?"
Kardun glanced around, chest rising with nervous excitement.
Kardun: "If I go alone… better for me to go to the hospital instead, Boss!"
The room erupted in laughter, some men clutching their stomachs, others slapping tables.
Turiman shook his head, chuckling.
Turiman: "Are you afraid of bumps?"
Kardun grinned broadly, finally lifting his gaze to meet Giono's.
Giono looked at him, tracing the subtle focus behind the wandering eyes. He nodded approvingly.
Giono: "Ladalah! Good… good…"
He scanned the room. Fifty of his men were bouncing on their heels, fists clenched, brimming with energy.
Karto: "Let's reclaim Kembang Setaman Discotheque."
Turiman: "Let's return it to Handoyo!"
"Agreed!"
Fifty voices thundered in unison, echoing off the walls:
"Long live Giono!"
"Long live Giono!"
Giono's lips curved slightly, proud. He lifted the dregs of his bitter coffee and swirled it in the cup.
Giono: "You, Karto, prepare the weapons!"
He exhaled a thick plume of smoke, letting it drift lazily toward the ceiling.
Giono: "And you, Turiman! Prepare ten vehicles to transport our people!"
The men erupted again, some pumping fists, some slapping each other on the back.
Giono: "Alright! Tonight we storm Kembang Setaman Discotheque!"
Cheers and laughter mingled, echoing throughout the headquarters, carrying excitement, tension, and a trace of humor.
End of Chapter 7
To be continued Chapter 8