Inside the Bathan residence.
Grandfather and Xavier stood facing each other, the air between them heavy and cold.
Grandpa's expression was grim. "What do you want?"
"I came personally to talk to you, Mr. Bathan," Xavier said.
He gestured for the two officers behind him to return to the car before sitting across from the old man at the table.
"So," Xavier leaned back slightly, a smug grin tugging at his lips, "how's retirement life treating you, Mr. Bathan?"
"Mr. Bathan, huh…" Ceaser smirked faintly.
"You still want me to call you Chief?" Xavier asked.
"What I want doesn't matter," Ceaser replied, his tone even. "I'm just an old man now."
Xavier's eyes hardened. "What do you mean by that?"
He leaned forward. "You retired ten years ago, yet you still act like you have authority."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Vice Chief," Ceaser said calmly.
Xavier's palm struck the table. "Then who's been giving instructions to the police? Who's been ordering them to move without SARS authorization?"
Ceaser didn't flinch. "Are you accusing me of something?"
"Don't play dumb," Xavier hissed. "Drop the act. You know exactly what I mean."
Ceaser's faint smile faded. "Tell me, Xavier — isn't it the police's job to stop criminals when SARS sits around doing nothing?"
"Listen carefully," Xavier said coldly. "You're just a senile old man who can't do anything anymore. Stay out of our work."
Ceaser chuckled darkly. "Senile old man? You're right. But wasn't I your Chief eleven years ago? You were sixteen when you joined the 3rd Division, correct?"
Xavier's smirk returned. "What SARS wants is simple — stay out. Stop interfering. Don't think your name will protect you forever."
Ceaser leaned forward, eyes sharp. "Trying to scare me, boy? Do whatever you want."
Xavier pushed back his chair and stood. "Fine. My job was to warn you, and I've done it."
He turned toward the door but paused midway, a cocky grin forming on his face.
"Oh, almost forgot," he said lightly. "How's your grandson? Better keep an eye on him. Wouldn't want him ending up like his father."
Ceaser's hands slammed against the table. "XAVIER!" he roared, fury shaking his voice.
But Xavier only smirked and walked out.
---
Adrian's eyes fluttered open, vision blurred and head throbbing.
The cracked ceiling swam above him as he blinked through the haze. Blood trickled down the side of his face, warm and sticky.
He groaned, touching the wound. Pain exploded through his skull.
"Gh… damn it…"
He tore the sleeves from his shirt and tied them tightly around his forehead to stop the bleeding. With a shaky breath, he forced himself upright.
The room was dim — windows boarded, walls covered in grime. An abandoned house.
He stumbled to the door and grabbed the handle. Locked. From the outside.
"Fuck… those bastards," he muttered, slamming his shoulder into it.
Then it hit him.
Sofia.
A scream tore through the silence — high, terrified.
Adrian's blood ran cold.
"Sofia! Are you safe?! Hey! Sofia!" he shouted, pounding the door with both fists.
Her cries grew louder, desperate.
"What do I do?!" he panicked, heart hammering.
He rammed his shoulder against the door again and again, but it wouldn't budge.
Then his mind flashed back — his grandfather's voice.
*"Aim for the lock. Keep your leg straight. Don't get hurt, Adrian."*
Adrian's eyes narrowed.
"Yeah, Grandpa… I remember."
He took a step back, braced his leg, and kicked the edge of the lock.
*CRACK!*
The door splintered open.
He bolted down the hallway, following Sofia's screams until he reached another door. He shoved it open —
Sofia stood against the wall, half her clothes torn, tears streaking down her face. Her breathing was ragged, terrified.
Three delinquents had her pinned, grinning like animals.
Adrian froze — then his fists clenched.
"H-hey… what the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Adrian!" Sofia sobbed. "A-Adrian, help me!"
His vision shook with rage. His voice broke into a roar.
"LET. HER. GO. YOU BASTARDS!"
The men flinched, grip loosening just enough for Sofia to wrench free and run behind Adrian.
"Sofia, get out of here," he said, his voice steady despite the fury beneath it. "I've got something to take care of."
"Adrian—"
"Go."
Sofia hesitated, tears falling, then turned and bolted.
"I'll call the police! Please, don't fight them!"
Adrian smirked faintly.
"All right… time to teach you clowns a lesson."
One of them cracked his knuckles. "Good. Saves us the trouble — we were gonna kill you anyway."
---
Outside, Sofia ran until her lungs burned. She fumbled for her phone, shaking so hard she could barely press the buttons. The police arrived minutes later, sirens echoing through the lonely street.
She led them to the abandoned house, still trembling as she pointed the way.
But as they neared the door, Sofia froze. Her knees buckled.
Three bodies lay sprawled outside — lifeless, blood soaking the ground.
And sitting against a tree nearby was Adrian — his head lowered, clothes drenched in red, a bloodied knife hanging loosely in his hands.
"A-Adrian…" Sofia whispered, voice breaking. "What happened…"
Adrian slowly raised his head. His eyes were hollow, empty.
"I-I didn't kill them," he murmured.
"Restrain him!" an officer shouted. "Take him into custody!"
As they grabbed his arms and dragged him toward the car, Sofia fell to her knees.
"Adrian… you didn't kill them, right? Tell me you didn't!"
Adrian looked back one last time, his expression unreadable.
"Goodbye… Sofia."
The car door slammed shut, and the sirens faded into the night — leaving Sofia alone in the silence, trembling as tears hit the ground.