The headbag screened him from the room he was in. He could hardly breathe through the small holes of the rough, brown fabric. His hands and feet were tied to the metal chair, and he tried to stay calm. He listened; three voices in the room. “Go, get her,” the deep, stern voice on his right side said. “Yes, sir,” another replied, as a strict set of footsteps of leather shoes tapped the echoing concrete floor. A door opened—metal, from the sound of it—and closed, as the pair of footsteps faded away and a faint hint of what waited outside whispered to him.  There were only two voices in the room now. Still, he was clueless.

“What’s your name?” the question startled him, as he turned to face the same, low-pitched voice he heard earlier. His breathing broke form, turning his inhales and exhales into irregular wheezes. They still hadn’t taken the bag off his head.

“You scared him,” another voice ringed, it being more high-pitched, on his left. “Just take off the bag. He doesn’t… really need it.” A sigh, from his right, then a pair of footsteps closed at him. A hand grasped on his head. Light entered and flashed as the fabric scratched his cheeks upward. The headbag drew away instantly. And he saw them.

“Hi. I’m Lyle,” the one on his left said. Lyle smirked, albeit hardly, then continued to stare at him. The smile had nothing on it; no visible lines ran across his face, no evidence of tiredness in his eyes. He was young. A twenty-something boy donning a skinny black suit. Lyle seemed innocent, too. In that room, he was the one most unlikely to commit crime. Yet there he was, leaning on the wall, arms crossed and staring at a guy tied to a chair.

The hostage snapped to the other one.

“That’s Miko,” Lyle interrupted.

Miko stood no more than a few feet away from him. He was wearing glasses, and with the reflection from the fluorescent lights hanging above them, it was hard to see where he was looking. He was the one with the deep voice, he thought. Their black suits were a dead giveaway. It was the mafia, and the idea raced in his head.

The hostage’s lips started to quiver. “You’ve got the wrong guy,” he stuttered. His breathing rolled back and forth, and he blinked excessively to stop tears from coming out.

Lyle’s eyebrows furrowed; a smile, and then a pout. He looked at Miko, then back at him. “You seem… very right to me,” he giggled.

“No, no, no. I’m not a part of whatever this is,” the hostage replied.

Lyle’s head tipped down to the floor, and he looked at the concrete with disappointment. He sighed heavily, then glanced at the hostage again. “Part of what? Calm down.”

“Please! I’m not even from here,” the hostage answered back imprudently.

“Come on, man,” Lyle hissed. “You didn’t even answer his question.” He pitched his head toward Miko.

“What?” The hostage asked, stutteringly. He turned to the same direction, and met the other man’s gaze.

“What’s your name, kid?” Miko asked. He was now back on a chair, sitting in front of him.

“James. James Alante,” the hostage answered. “I swear, I’m just—” Miko raised his palm. James wasn’t supposed to be telling them anything more than an answer.

Miko bowed his head, and looked at the ground. James could see his eyes through the glasses, now. “Where’re you from?”

“Manila,” James replied, withholding from saying anything more.

“Yeah, we’re all from Manila,” Miko mocked.

“I’m sorry. Tondo.”

Miko chuckled, now a bit more unamused than before. Maybe, he was expecting something more. QC, maybe. “Tough kid, huh?” he taunted.

“I’m sorry,” James broke again. “I just came here to sell, man, I swear.” His head swayed nervously, his legs began to twitch.

Lyle laughed quietly, his eyes sized the hostage down with even more disgust.

“Yeah, we know, we know,” Miko said. He grabbed a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, pressing it to his lips. A calm, burning yellow appeared, concealed by his hand, as he lifted the lighter close to the stick. He puffed, as his mouth gave birth to smoke that floated around the quiet, concrete room. “Do you know where you are?” he asked.

“You snatched me in Cavite… we’re still in Cavite, right?”

Miko nodded. “Your friends back in Tondo, they never spoke of anything, never mentioned anything? About Cavite?” Miko’s eyes locked on his. There was a slight pause in the room.

“No, sir. They don’t know I’m here,” James answered, apparently ashamed and pitiful for himself. His eyes dropped to the ground, looking at anything but the man’s gaze.

Miko nodded again. Another puff. The smoke drew close to James, as if to provoke.

“You know who owns this place, kid?”

To James, the answer was obvious. He froze, as he thought about it. He raised his head timidly. “You, sir?” James shivered; and his eyes met the dragon’s gaze once again.

Miko chuckled as he shook his head. He stood up and walked away, “You can… meet her yourself.”

A pair of footsteps arrived at the door. High heels? James looked to Miko—who was now standing beside Lyle—as if to search for assurance, or safety, or comfort… in what was to happen next. His heart was beating even faster. The door opened, and the same hint of fresh air and freedom called out to him again. But this time, it felt like it was teasing him for his sins. He remembered it again, for the last time; the sensation of southern fresh air, the biting taste of San Mig from yesternight, the peace that came from knowing he wouldn’t get stabbed in the back for no reason. It was a good two months in Cavite. Then, the door closed. The promise of heavenly morning light was replaced by something else. A woman… stood in the doorway. And in that soundless room, she was the one most likely to commit the crime.

The room fell silent. And Alice stared. It was just… that. No emotion. No pity. No anger. The eyes were there, but through those windows was just an empty darkness where the soul was supposed to be. She took a deep breath, then exhaled. She continued to look; her expression dead and a bit tired, like how a call center agent would look at the dreadful screen at work. This was it. This was work. The room broke its silence, and their ears stopped ringing from the muteness, as Alice’s black stilettos tapped and echoed across the concrete floor when she walked closer to the hostage.

Her gaze studied him from head to toe. “Is this him?” she said, looking to Lyle and Miko.

Lyle nodded. His eyes stared at the ground, cold and passionless.

Alice scanned him again. “I was expecting something more… well, more. I walked out of my meeting for this?” The hostage looked even more pathetic to her. She walked to a corner of the room, where they hid the man’s personal effects; IDs, cash, contacts. “Did you check him for tattoos?”

“Yep, no ink,” Lyle answered. Miko was busy finishing his cigarette.

“James Alante, huh?” said Alice, as she looked through the IDs. James looked to her and nodded. “Did he say his name right?” she asked again.

Lyle closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, “Yeah.”

Alice nodded, “M’kay.” She walked towards James again, now standing even closer. “How old are you, kid?” she asked.

“Twenty-six, ma’am.” James continued to stare at the ground.

“You look tired. Have you eaten anything this morning yet?”

“No, ma’am, I haven’t.”

“Okay. You’ll get to eat after this, don’t worry.” Alice slipped her hands in her pockets, “We’ll buy you breakfast. There’s a small bulalohan just a few blocks away from here. You’ll love it.”

James just continued to nod, shakingly. He’d want that bulalo very much.

“You just… need to answer a few questions for us.” Alice leaned forward, just enough for her to look him in the eyes again.

James stared back, his eyes couldn’t get any wider. It was the questions, again.

“Okay?” Alice pressed.

James blinked, and sniffed; then he nodded.

Alice straightened up again. “I don’t really have much time, so you’ll have to answer the questions a little more directly.”

“Yes.” James took a deep breath. Maybe, he was trying to get ready for the questions.

“Good.” Alice paused. The room dropped silent and she stared him blank. “Who do you work for, James?”

“What?” James got confused, and he made the mistake of looking at her in the eyes.

“Remember what I said about your answers, kid,” Alice warned.

“But, I don’t work for anyone,” James assured.

“Wrong answer. I’m gonna ask again.” Alice got closer. She stood just where she could block James from the electric light descending from the ceiling.

James raised his head higher. His lips started to shake, as he glanced back at the dark tower looming over him and blocking him from the white fluorescence. “But,” James said, “I really don’t—” There was a new sound in the room, the cracking of a cheekbone. The room got even darker for him. His vision blurred as he tried to reposition his wobbling head after the impact, while the pain on his left cheek slowly started to manifest.

Alice caressed her fist. Her swing scratched a bit of skin off her knuckle. “We all have to work for someone, right?” she continued.

“Please, I really don’t work for anyone. I sold here for myself—” She swung twice. The force hammered through his nose, then his left eye. James coughed. He watched as the blood flew, and stained… on Alice’s shirt. And he instantly hated himself for doing so. “I’m so sorry,” he pleaded. But the blood was already on her clothes.

Alice stopped. Her fist retracted. And she looked down slowly. Her vision crawled down her black, long-sleeved chiffon blouse, and her eyes stopped at the mess James made on the fabric. She sucked her teeth, “Tsk!” and turned away from him. 

She walked away; and unbuttoned her shirt. Beneath it was a black sando top that easily complemented her milk-white skin. She took the blouse off, and tossed it to Lyle. Aside from the sando top that complemented her body’s glow, there was another kind of black. A tattoo. Old, and unusual. The patterns of ink snaked from her right wrist to just above her elbow. The patterns. The design. The sea of symbols that rested on her skin. The batok.

Alice wrapped her hands in white bandages. Then, she walked back to James.

“Please, I’ll leave. I promise. I’ll pay,” James managed to say, under the pond of blood flooding from his mouth.

She jabbed. And again. And again. Each blow got progressively faster, until Alice was also growling with her strikes. Blue, burning streaks formed around them. As she hissed with each swing… the room got intensely hotter. Her tattoo was now glowing as bright as fire. The lights turned off, cut off from their power. Then, orbs of electric heat. Sparks, conjuring up and disappearing into thin air. It was lightning.

“Alice, that’s enough,” Miko said.

Alice panted, gasped for air, as she stared at the half-dead face of James Alante. It was hard to see it without the lights on, but she could smell the blood everywhere on his face. She took a deep breath, and gulped, and brushed her hair back, then stepped away. The lights turned on again.

She closed her eyes, and turned back to James. He could barely see her or hear her, but he still could. And that was enough for Alice. She reached for Lyle’s suit jacket. A handgun. Alice pulled it out and paced back to the victim. She pointed, cocked, and rested her finger on the trigger. “I’m gonna count to three,” she declared.

“Hey,” Lyle gasped.

“Oh, crap! Please, no,” James cried. His tears welled up in his swollen eyes, as the fluids mixed disgustingly with the blood on his face.

“Alice,” said Miko.

She didn’t listen. “One,” she counted.

“No, please, I told you everything!” James squealed.

“Two.”

“I’m just a pusher! I promise!” James closed his eyes. Another fluid started to stain his pants. His urine scattered as it streamed down the chair’s metal legs and onto the floor.

They stared unpleasantly. “Huh,” Alice said. She lowered the gun. A bullet dropped to the ground as she unloaded the weapon. “So, you really are from Tondo.”

James continued to whimper.

“I don’t wanna see you here in my city ever again. Nobody sells meth here without my permission,” Alice said. “Get him out of here,” she motioned to Lyle.

Lyle knocked on the metal door. Two men in black suits came immediately. “Bring him back to Tondo. Ask around and see if everything he says checks out,” said Alice, as the two carried James Alante outside the room.

It was quiet again. But it reeked of smoke, blood, and piss.

Miko watched Alice carefully, while she stood and watched the ground. “You okay?” he asked.

“Hmm?” Alice looked at him. “What?”

“The lightning, Alice.” Miko thought she went too far this time.

“Oh,” Alice stared at the empty room. “Guess I got a little too pissed, huh?”

“You almost killed the guy,” Miko added.

“Yeah, I did,” Alice said, under her breath.

“I guess we were wrong about him.” Miko stood beside her, “He’s just a small-time pusher.”

“But what if we’re right?” questioned Alice.

“If Tondo doesn’t know him, our boys already know what to do,” Miko reassured. “Right or wrong, we’re in control, okay?”

Alice nodded. She put her hands in her pockets.

Miko turned to her. “Hey, you don’t have to think about this alone.”

“Ate… get some rest,” Lyle chimed in. “We’ll be fine, don’t worry. We’re getting another lead soon. We’ll find someone. Trust me.”

Alice turned to her younger brother, “How?”

“We’re gonna go for the birang,” replied Lyle. “It’s our only choice.”