CLEANERS

Chapter 5: The Network

The warehouse in the outskirts of San Roque smelled of rust and motor oil, its corrugated walls still echoing with violence. Mang Jose stood over the dissolving remains of the aswang he'd killed, watching the body turn to ash in morning light. The twins sat on wooden crates nearby, still processing what they'd witnessed combat skill that made their desperate encounter look amateur.

"That thing wasn't random," Jose said, cleaning his blade with methodical precision. "Your family's death wasn't random either."

Denmar looked up from studying the ash pile. "What do you mean?"

Jose sheathed his weapon and pulled out a tablet showing crime scene photos and incident reports. "Seventeen families in the last six months. All across Batangas and Laguna provinces. Same kill patterns, same precision, same timing."

He swiped through images, each showing the aftermath of violence that was becoming sickeningly familiar. Homes torn apart from the inside, dark stains on concrete walls, families wiped out completely.

"This isn't just hunger," Jose continued. "It's organized. Systematic. Someone's coordinating these attacks."

Marden leaned forward, jaw tight with controlled anger. "Coordinating? You mean there's someone giving orders?"

"Aswang aren't just monsters, boy. They're organized like any other species. Packs, territories, hierarchies." Jose tapped his tablet. "Seven original bloodlines, each with different abilities."

Jose activated a holographic display showing a map of Luzon dotted with red markers. Each marker represented an attack site, and the pattern was clear a systematic sweep moving outward from the mountain provinces toward populated areas.

"The seven bloodlines," Jose explained, pointing to different colored markers. "Manananggal upper body separation, flight capabilities, hunt pregnant women and children. Tikbalang horse headed, territorial, prefer remote areas. Tiyanak infant forms, crying lures, pack coordinators."

He switched to surveillance footage showing creatures matching these descriptions.

"Berbalang soul eaters, dream feeders, are harder to detect. Amalanhig risen corpses, nearly indestructible. Sigbin dog like, bone crushers. And Balbal flesh devourers, the foot soldiers."

"The one we killed in the rice field," Denmar said, "that was Balbal?"

"Basic Balbal variant. Bottom tier." Jose's expression grew grim. "What killed your family was probably a coordinated pack multiple types working together. That level of coordination only happens under strong leadership."

The twins exchanged looks. The creature that had terrorized them was the weakest type?

"Recently, these bloodlines have been uniting under regional commanders. Higher class entities that can coordinate multiple packs across provinces." Jose pulled up another set of images. "We call them generals."

"Generals?"

"Enhanced aswang. Centuries old, incredibly intelligent, with abilities that put basic bloodline members to shame. They're turning random feeding into organized harvesting."

The radio on Jose's belt crackled. He listened to the coded transmission, his expression growing darker.

"What is it?" Marden asked.

"Another attack. Three families in Tanauan, but this time they left survivors." Jose was already moving toward the exit. "Witnesses who saw one of these generals in action."

They piled into Jose's modified jeepney a vehicle that looked ordinary but had reinforced windows and hidden weapon compartments. As they drove toward Tanauan, Jose continued the twins' education.

"CLEANERS is the organization I work for," he explained, navigating traffic with practiced skill. "Government-funded but officially nonexistent. We handle supernatural threats that regular law enforcement can't acknowledge."

"How long has this been going on?" Denmar asked.

"The organization? About sixty years. The conflict itself goes back centuries. We're just the latest group trying to maintain the balance."

They arrived at Tanauan to find the familiar scene police cordons, curious onlookers, official explanations about gas leaks. But Jose had contacts within local police, people who knew to look the other way when CLEANERS needed access.

The house showed the same pattern of surgical violence, but this time there was a crucial difference. One family member had survived a twelve year old girl named Rose who'd hidden in a storm shelter while her parents and siblings were killed above her.

Jose interviewed her with gentle efficiency. Rosa's account was fragmentary, broken by shock, but certain details came through clearly.

"There were five of them," she whispered, clutching a rosary. "But only one was giving orders. A woman. She looked... almost normal. Pretty, even."

"What made her different?" Jose asked gently.

"Her voice. When she spoke, the others stopped everything and listened. Like she was their boss." Rosa's hands shook. "And when she looked at Papa, her eyes went completely black. She smiled while the others... while they..."

Rosa couldn't finish, but she didn't need to.

"Did she say anything specific?" Jose continued. "Any names, any plans?"

"She was angry about something. She kept saying they needed to move faster, that 'she' was getting impatient." Rosa's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "She said the Smiling Woman wanted more offerings."

The name hit Jose like a blade. His hand froze mid-motion, color draining from his face.

"The Smiling Woman?" Denmar asked. "The other aswang mentioned that name too."

Jose was quiet for a long moment, wrestling with how much to reveal. "One of the most dangerous aswang in existence. If she's involved in coordinating these attacks..."

He didn't finish the thought, but his expression suggested they were facing something far worse than regional pack violence.

They spent the next hour coordinating Rosa's placement in protective custody with a network of families educated about supernatural threats. It was an extensive system, suggesting CLEANERS operated on a larger scale than Denmar had imagined.

As they drove back toward San Roque, Jose finally addressed the twins' unspoken questions.

"That woman isn't just another aswang. She's what we call a herald an ancient entity with abilities that put regular bloodline members to shame." His voice carried the weight of speaking about something genuinely feared. "Intelligence reports say she's been active for over a century, coordinating operations across the entire archipelago."

"And she's behind these coordinated attacks?" Marden asked.

"If Rosa's account is accurate, then this woman is organizing the regional generals. That would explain the systematic nature, the strategic targeting, the escalating frequency." Jose pulled out his phone and sent a quick text. "Which means your training needs to be accelerated."

The implications hit both twins simultaneously. They weren't just dealing with random monster attacks—they were caught up in a campaign orchestrated by something ancient and intelligent.

"What does that mean for us?" Denmar asked.

"It means the basic education I can give you won't be enough. You need proper weapons, advanced training, and access to intelligence networks." Jose's expression was grim. "I'm arranging for you to be transferred to Manila. Our main facility has resources I can't provide."

"What about you?"

"I have to investigate reports of unusual activity in the mountain provinces. If the Smiling Woman really is coordinating a major operation, someone needs to confirm it." Jose glanced at them in the rearview mirror. "Someone from CLEANERS will pick you up tomorrow morning. They'll train you to fight generals and heralds, not just basic bloodline soldiers."

"And if we're not ready when she makes her move?"

Jose watched the rural landscape roll past the same fields and forests where the twins had grown up, now revealed to be hunting grounds for creatures that operated with military precision.

"Then the Smiling Woman completes whatever she's planning," he said finally. "And a lot more families end up like yours."

As they reached San Roque, Denmar caught sight of familiar landmarks the school, the church, the plaza where they'd celebrated their last fiesta. All of it looked different now, viewed through the lens of organized supernatural warfare.

"The seven bloodlines," Denmar said thoughtfully, "what should we expect to face first?"

"In Manila? Probably Tiyanak and Manananggal variants. Most common in urban environments." Jose's voice took on the tone of a tactical briefing. "Tiyanak use infant crying to lure victims into ambushes, but they're also excellent coordinators. Manananggal are airborne threats, harder to pin down, prefer night attacks when they can use flight advantage."

"How do we kill them?"

"Same principles as the Balbal you killed, but they're faster, stronger, and smarter. You'll need enhanced weapons, better tactics, and most importantly" Jose looked directly at both twins "you'll need to work as a team. Individual heroics get you killed against higher-class entities."

As they pulled up to Lito's house, Jose handed each twin a small device that looked like a modified radio.

"Emergency communicators," he explained. "If something happens before pickup tomorrow, activate these and run. Don't try to fight anything above basic Balbal level until you've had proper training."

"How will we know the difference?" Marden asked.

"If it's smart enough to talk, coordinate with others, or use tools, it's above your current capability." Jose's expression was deadly serious. "The Smiling Woman's forces won't send more fodder after you. Next time, they'll send something designed to kill trained CLEANERS agents."

The twins walked toward Lito's house, processing everything they'd learned. The scope of what they were facing had expanded from personal revenge to involvement in an ancient war.

"Get some rest tonight," Jose called after them. "Tomorrow you start learning to fight monsters that can think."

But as Denmar lay on the thin mattress, listening to his brother's restless breathing, he knew rest would be impossible. Somewhere in the mountains, Jose was hunting signs of a campaign orchestrated by the Smiling Woman. And in Manila, an organization that had been fighting supernatural threats for decades was about to take on two traumatized teenagers and try to turn them into weapons.

The hidden war was escalating, and the Santos twins were about to discover just how deep and dangerous that war really was.

Whether they would survive their education remained to be seen.