Cold-Blooded Barista

BLOODY TRACKS

Damar was still unconscious on the warehouse floor, his breathing shallow. Rizal pressed a rag against the wound in the man's stomach while Ucok paced back and forth, biting the tip of an unlit cigarette.

"We need a doctor," Ucok said.

Rizal nodded, but his mind was racing for a solution. They couldn't take Damar to a hospital—it was too risky. The police were likely looking for them, and even worse, Adi's men were probably already hunting them down.

"Do you know a trustworthy doctor?" Rizal asked.

Ucok scratched his head. "I know one. But you won't like it."

Rizal frowned. "Who?"

Ucok sighed heavily. "Dr. Sinta."

Rizal raised an eyebrow. "Your ex?"

Ucok winced. "My ex who swore she'd shoot me in the head if I ever asked for her help again."

Rizal smirked. "Great. Let's go see her."

They stopped at a small building on the outskirts of town, nestled between a closed grocery store and a still-busy coffee stall. The clinic looked modest, with a flickering neon sign above the door that read "Dr. Sinta’s Practice."

Ucok knocked on the back door in a specific pattern. Knock-knock... knock-knock-knock.

The door cracked open, revealing a short-haired woman with a bored expression. As soon as she saw Ucok, her eyes narrowed.

"Ucok."

Ucok chuckled nervously. "Hey, Sin."

Sinta crossed her arms. "You promised never to come back here."

Ucok pointed at Damar, still unconscious on Rizal’s shoulder. "But this time, it's serious. Can you help?"

Sinta glanced between them, then let out a long sigh. "Bring him in before I change my mind."

Sinta worked quickly, her hands skillfully removing the bullet from Damar's body. She sighed or muttered complaints now and then, but she stayed focused.

Ucok stood in the corner, fidgeting. "You're not gonna shoot me, right?"

Sinta glanced at him briefly. "Let me finish first, then we'll talk."

Ucok swallowed hard.

After half an hour, Sinta finally wiped the sweat off her forehead. "He'll live, but he needs a few days to rest."

Rizal nodded. "Thanks, Sin."

Ucok grinned. "You're a lifesaver. Like an angel."

Sinta immediately threw a surgical tool at Ucok. Swish! He ducked just in time.

"Get out before I change my mind," she snapped.

Rizal stifled a laugh and pulled Ucok out before his friend became the next patient.

Back at the warehouse, Damar had regained consciousness. His face was pale, but his eyes were sharp.

"Who set us up?" Rizal asked bluntly.

Damar swallowed hard, then whispered, "Johan."

Ucok cursed. "Johan? Adi's right-hand man?"

Damar gave a weak nod. "He knows you’re after him. He also knows you're working for Mr. Haris."

Rizal leaned against the wall, thinking fast. Johan wasn't just a lieutenant—he was Adi's executioner. If Johan knew they were hunting Adi, then they had two big problems:

Adi was probably already planning his counterattack.

Johan would make sure they didn’t live long enough to see it.

Ucok glanced at Rizal. "We have to strike first."

Rizal nodded. "But not yet. We need more intel."

Ucok sighed. "So, what's the next step?"

Rizal smirked. "We let Johan think we don’t know he's after us."

Ucok groaned. "I hate psychological games."

The next day, Rizal returned to his café as usual. He poured an espresso into a cup, carefully crafting the latte art. From the outside, everything seemed normal. Just a barista doing his job.

But in his mind, the plan was already in motion.

Ucok sat in the corner, pretending to enjoy his coffee while keeping an eye on the customers.

Then, right around noon, a large man walked in. His hair was slicked back, his suit neat, but there was something about the way he moved—too confident, too casual for someone who was supposedly just there for coffee.

Ucok whispered, "Johan."

Rizal stayed calm, greeting Johan with a friendly smile. "Good afternoon. What can I get you?"

Johan smirked. "A cappuccino. And a little chat."

Rizal nodded, starting to make the cappuccino with his usual precision. "Of course. What can I help you with?"

Johan leaned in, his voice low. "I hear you and your friend like to stick your noses where they don’t belong."

Rizal kept smiling. "I'm just a barista. My business is coffee."

Johan chuckled. "You can say that. But I know who you are, Rizal."

Ucok tightened his grip under the table.

Johan took a sip of his cappuccino, then locked eyes with Rizal. "My message is simple. Stop now, or you'll find your body floating in the river."

Ucok nearly stood up, but Rizal raised a hand, signaling him to stay put.

Casually, Rizal took off his barista apron and leaned against the counter. "And if I say no?"

Johan grinned. "Then I'll make sure you regret it."

Rizal chuckled softly. "You know, Johan… I make customers happy with my coffee."

Johan narrowed his eyes. "And?"

Rizal leaned closer, whispering in his ear. "But I'm even better at making people regret their choices."

Before Johan could react, Rizal "accidentally" knocked over his cup.

Splash!

Hot cappuccino spilled onto Johan's pants.

Johan cursed, jumping up as he tried to wipe the mess off his suit.

Rizal remained calm, his gaze steady. "You threatened me in my own café. I consider that rude."

Johan glared at Rizal before turning toward the door. But before leaving, he looked back. "This isn't over."

As the door closed, Ucok exhaled. "Damn, Zal. You just poured cappuccino on the most dangerous thug in town."

Rizal picked up a cloth and wiped the counter, unfazed. "Let him know we're not afraid."

Ucok grinned. "So, what's next?"

Rizal smirked. "We make them come to us. This time, we set the trap."

Ucok chuckled. "I like the way you play."

Rizal grabbed a new cup, poured an espresso, and drew a skull in the latte art.

The real fight had just begun.