CLEANERS

Chapter 6: First Lessons

The black SUV arrived at Lito's house exactly at dawn, just as Mang Jose had promised. Denmar watched from the window as a woman in dark clothing stepped out, her movements precise and professional. She looked like she could be a government worker or a bank manager completely ordinary, except for the way her eyes swept the street with the systematic attention of someone trained to spot threats.

"That's your ride," Lito said, trying to keep his voice steady. He'd been quiet all morning, making extra coffee and frying more eggs than anyone could eat. Classic Filipino farewell behavior, Denmar realized. When you didn't know what to say, you fed people.

Marden shouldered the small bag they'd packed extra clothes, their makeshift weapons, and a few photos from before that night. Everything else they owned was either destroyed or contaminated with memories they couldn't bear to carry.

"You sure about this?" Lito asked for the third time. "These people... you don't really know them."

"We know enough," Denmar replied, though his stomach was tight with uncertainty. "Jose saved our lives. And he's the only one who believes us about what really killed our family."

aunt Elisa emerged from the kitchen, her eyes red from crying. She pulled both boys into a fierce embrace that smelled of sampaguita and cooking oil. "Promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you'll come back."

It was a promise Denmar couldn't make, so he just held her tighter.

The woman from the SUV knocked politely and waited for them to answer. Up close, she looked to be in her forties, with graying hair pulled back in a neat bun and the kind of no-nonsense bearing that suggested military or police background.

"Santos twins?" she asked, consulting a tablet. "I'm Agent Lisa Fernandez. Jose sent me to pick you."

"Where is he now?" Marden asked, clearly disappointed that their mentor wasn't personally handling the pickup.

"Emergency assignment. Three families went missing in Batangas province last night. Same pattern as your... incident." Her expression softened slightly. "He wanted to be here, but the job doesn't wait."

They loaded into the SUV, the twins taking the back seat while Agent Fernandez drove through Manila's morning traffic with the confident aggression of someone who'd done this route countless times. The radio crackled occasionally with coded messages that meant nothing to the boys but seemed to update Fernandez on ongoing operations.

"First time in Manila?" she asked, catching Denmar's wide-eyed stare at the sprawling cityscape.

"Yeah."

"Rural to urban is always an adjustment. But you'll adapt. Jose says you have potential."

"What kind of potential?" Marden asked suspiciously.

Fernandez glanced at them in the rearview mirror. "The kind that keeps you alive when everything else is trying to kill you."

The CLEANERS facility was hidden in plain sight a nondescript office building in Ortigas that could have housed any number of boring government agencies. Only the security was unusual: metal detectors that seemed more sophisticated than airport equipment, guards who carried themselves like special forces operators, and a receptionist who had what looked like a blessed crucifix and a small bag of salt prominently displayed on her desk.

"Welcome to the Manila Operations Center," Fernandez said as they passed through multiple security checkpoints. "This is one of seven facilities nationwide. The others are in Cebu, Davao, Baguio, Iloilo, Cagayan de Oro, Zamboanga,and Manila's the biggest."

"Seven facilities for hunting aswang?" Denmar asked. "How big is this problem?"

"Bigger than the public knows. Smaller than it could be if we weren't doing our job."

The elevator descended farther than seemed possible for a building that size. When the doors opened, they stepped into what looked like a cross between a military command center and a research laboratory. Dozens of people moved through the space with purposeful efficiency some in tactical gear, others in lab coats, all of them carrying themselves with the alertness of people who dealt with life-and-death situations regularly.

"Training Division is on Sub-Level 3," Fernandez explained, leading them through corridors lined with maps, charts, and photographs that made Denmar's skin crawl. Missing persons reports, crime scene photos, and what looked like surveillance footage of creatures that definitely weren't human. "Jose requested you be placed in Advanced Track, which is unusual for walk-ins. Usually we start people with six months of theoretical work."

"Theoretical work?" Marden asked.

"Learning about aswang types, traditional countermeasures, basic weapons handling. Jose thinks your... practical experience... makes the preliminary stuff unnecessary."

They arrived at a training room that looked like a cross between a gymnasium and an armory. Weapons lined the walls everything from modified firearms to bladed weapons that seemed to gleam with their own light. A dozen other people were already there, ranging in age from late teens to early thirties, all wearing matching black uniforms.

"Fresh meat," called out a guy who looked to be about twenty, his tone not entirely friendly. "Let me guess another pair of revenge cases?"

"Knock it off, David," said a girl with short black hair and scars across her knuckles. "We were all revenge cases at some point."

Agent Fernandez gestured for the twins to join the group. "Everyone, meet Denmar and Marden Santos. They're joining Advanced Track immediately. Jose's orders."

The reaction was mixed some curious looks, others clearly skeptical that two provincial boys could belong in advanced training.

"I'm Carmen," said the scarred girl, offering her hand to Marden. "Don't mind David. He gets territorial about new people."

"I get practical about new people," David corrected. "Half the walk-ins wash out in the first week. The other half get themselves killed in the field because they think watching their family die makes them automatic monster hunters."

Denmar felt his jaw clench, but before he could respond, another voice cut through the tension.

"And some of us learn that being an asshole doesn't make you a better agent, but David's still working on that lesson."

The speaker was a thin guy with glasses and prematurely gray hair, despite looking younger than David. He approached with a slight limp and a tablet covered in technical readouts.

"I'm Miguel," he said to the twins. "Migs for short. Ignore David's attitude he's actually decent backup when things go sideways. Just don't expect him to be warm about it."

"What happened to Jose?" asked a girl who'd been silent until now. She was small and compact, with the kind of wiry build that suggested she could probably benchpress twice her body weight. "He was supposed to handle their orientation."

"Emergency deployment," Fernandez replied. "Which means you're all getting accelerated into field status. The situation in Batangas is escalating."

She moved to a wall display and activated what looked like a digital map of the Philippines dotted with red markers. "Seventeen people dead in four hours. Three different barangays, all within a fifty-kilometer radius. Same kill patterns as previous incidents."

"Pack hunting behavior," Carmen observed, studying the display. "They're getting bolder."

"Or more desperate," said Migs. "These attack patterns suggest they're stockpiling for something."

"Stockpiling people?" Marden asked, his voice tight with barely controlled anger.

"Human trafficking is a major part of aswang operations," Fernandez explained. "They don't just hunt randomly anymore. They farm. Systematically. And recent intelligence suggests they're ramping up for something big."

She turned back to the group. "Which is why Jose requested emergency authorization for field deployment. You're all going to Batangas. Tonight."

The silence that followed was heavy with implications. These weren't training exercises anymore they were being thrown into actual combat operations.

"What about our training?" asked another trainee, a guy who looked barely eighteen and couldn't quite hide his nervousness.

"You'll get it on the job," Fernandez said. "Carmen will handle tactical briefing. Migs will manage tech and medical support. David will coordinate with local law enforcement." She looked directly at the twins. "You two will observe and assist. Do not engage unless specifically ordered."

"Observe and assist?" Marden's voice rose with frustration. "These things killed our family. We didn't come here to sit on the sidelines."

"You came here to learn how to kill monsters without getting yourselves killed," Fernandez replied sharply. "There's a difference between wanting revenge and being capable of getting it."

She moved to the weapons wall and began pulling items modified firearms, ammunition that gleamed silver, bladed weapons with symbols carved into their edges.

"Basic equipment loadout," she announced. "Blessed salt rounds, UV-treated blades, concentrated garlic compounds, and holy water in tactical dispensers. The blessing rituals are performed by cooperating priests don't ask me to explain the theology, I just know it works."

Denmar picked up one of the modified pistols, surprised by its weight and the strange warmth that seemed to emanate from the metal. "These actually kill aswang?"

"Lower-tier ones, yes. Higher-tier creatures are more resistant, but even they can be slowed down or wounded." Fernandez's expression grew grim. "The problem is that the ones we're tracking in Batangas aren't lower-tier."

She activated another display, this one showing surveillance footage from what looked like a security camera. The image was grainy and dark, but clearly showed a figure moving with inhuman speed and grace. When it turned toward the camera, its eyes reflected the light like an animal's.

"This was recorded three hours ago," Fernandez continued. "Enhanced aswang, possibly clan-level leadership. Notice the coordinated movement patterns, the strategic approach to target selection."

"It's hunting specific people," Carmen observed. "Not just random feeding."

"Exactly. Which suggests they're either building up resources for something, or..." She paused, seeming to wrestle with whether to share the next piece of information.

"Or what?" Denmar pressed.

"Or they're following orders from something higher up the food chain."

Fernandez's tablet buzzed with an incoming message. She read it quickly, and her expression darkened.

"Change of plans," she announced. "We're moving out now. They hit another location twenty minutes ago."

"Another barangay?" David asked, already moving toward the equipment wall.

"No." Fernandez's voice was tight with concern. "A CLEANERS safe house in Lipa. Four agents, twelve protected witnesses. All dead."

The training room erupted in shocked conversation. Carmen grabbed weapons with the efficiency of long practice. Migs was already pulling up tactical maps on his tablet. David was coordinating with someone on his radio.

"They know where our safe houses are," Fernandez continued. "Which means we have a leak, or we're dealing with aswang intelligence capabilities we haven't seen before."

She looked directly at the twins. "This is your introduction to the real war. The enemy isn't just stronger and faster than you they're organized, they're strategic, and now they're specifically targeting us."

As the team geared up for immediate deployment, Denmar felt the familiar weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders. This wasn't about revenge anymore it was about survival in a conflict that was rapidly escalating beyond anything they'd imagined.

Marden was checking his equipment with grim determination. "Think Jose's okay?"

"I think he is," Denmar.