Asa wasn't interested in looking outside at all. He opened his bag and pulled out a newspaper he had bought shortly after leaving the station. He sat calmly inside the car.
On the other hand, Zainal was tense and prepared for anything. In his left hand, he held his smartphone, which was running an anomaly radar, and in his right hand, he held a pistol.
Zainal slowly approached the SUV. Once at the door, he carefully opened it while aiming his gun. The gun was loaded with stun rounds—he hadn't yet switched to kinetic bullets. That was in accordance with police regulations to reduce casualties during anomaly-handling operations.
There was a man slumped over, his head resting on the steering wheel. Zainal and the man were on opposite sides—Zainal on the left, the driver on the right.
But Zainal didn't bother to circle around. He climbed inside and began straightening the man's posture. The man was unconscious. Zainal checked for a pulse—and found one. He then prepared to pull him out.
Zainal intended to check for injuries once they were outside. He hoisted the man over his shoulder and laid him gently on the sidewalk.
"Where's the anomaly?"
He looked at the radar on his smartphone. It clearly showed the anomaly was nearby.
"It's... close to me..."
Suddenly, the crash victim opened his eyes and lunged at Zainal's face. His hand turned into a sharp claw that slashed fast—fast enough that if it connected, Zainal's face would have been torn open.
But Zainal was no ordinary man—he was a trained officer. He reacted instantly, pulling back and firing his stun gun at the same time. He quickly retreated several meters, watching the man who had just tried to attack him twitch and convulse from the electric shock.
Of course, Zainal wasn't calm. His heart was pounding, and sweat drenched the back of his neck. He had almost ended up in a hospital. Sure, the insurance would cover it, but a serious injury could have forced him into early retirement.
He still had a household to support and a young child at home. He kept aiming at the attacker, yelling:
"Don't move, or I'll drop you!"
GRRR
The attacker—who moments ago had been the unconscious driver—growled. He continued to convulse from the stun shot. Zainal furrowed his brow as he saw the man slowly rise to his feet.
Zainal hesitated to fire again. The stun rounds were no joke—they contained a nerve-disrupting liquid that caused intense pain. While non-lethal, overuse could render someone disabled for hours, even an entire day. It wasn't fatal, but the pain could induce stress, even stroke—and yes, in rare cases, death.
Zainal was stuck in a dilemma. The attacker stood tall and locked eyes with him. Then, he prepared to charge.
"Damn it…"
Zainal intended to pull the trigger—but that thought came a split second too late.
The attacker charged forward at high speed, catching Zainal off guard. Zainal managed to shoot, but he missed the attacker's body. The man struck him with a powerful kick that launched Zainal backward—slamming him onto the hood of his own car.
"D-Damn…" Zainal was starting to lose consciousness. He barely managed to snap back and re-aim his weapon.
But the attacker was too fast. Zainal realized the man was trying to kill him. His claw was headed straight for Zainal's throat.
Zainal could already picture his neck being slit open, blood pouring out, and dying shortly after.
He closed his eyes, not wanting to witness it. Maybe that would dull the pain of dying. Even though he knew it wouldn't help.
THUD!!
But then something absurd happened.
"What the hell…?"
The attacker tripped—on his own. Not just that, he grabbed his head, as if his brain was under attack. He collapsed to the ground, rolling and screaming in agony.
"A mind attack?" Zainal thought.
He wanted to understand what just happened, but his priority was to neutralize the target. No longer caring about the painful side effects of his stun rounds, he fired three shots in quick succession.
"Finally…"
Relief washed over Zainal. The attacker was down at last.
"This is Ranger-18. Possession case in the commercial district. Suspect is down. Requesting ambulance and special personnel at the scene."
Zainal reported in over his radio, repeating the message three times. He could now breathe easy, slumping against a car. He looked toward his own vehicle—Kairo BS—where Asa was still sitting calmly.
"What a hassle. Just arrived and already greeted by something like this."
Asa muttered to himself. He glanced outside occasionally, then back at his newspaper. He knew Zainal was in trouble. He was annoyed—because whether it was Bandung or Torja, it was all the same. Neither place had peace.
Yeah, this was the age of chaos. War was everywhere.