Davin couldn't just rely on The Bad Boys network. Every second counted; he didn't want anything to happen to Vania. He felt he had to use all of his resources.
With one hand still on the wheel and his eyes constantly monitoring the road, he dialed a special number on his military-encrypted phone.
The international call connected after a few rings. The voice of the man on the other end sounded enthusiastic and full of respect.
"Yes. Good to hear your voice, The Special One."
"Howard. I need your help. Now." Davin's voice was flat yet full of pressure, cutting all pleasantries.
"The Special One! I'm ready for your orders!" replied Howard. Howard was a world-renowned physicist and engineer, his name gracing prestigious scientific journals.
But only a handful of people, including Davin, knew that most of Howard's "inventions" were actually the result of Davin's work and ideas, deliberately developed further and published under Howard's name to hide Davin's true identity.
"I'm always ready for you. Everything I have is thanks to you. Just tell me what you need me to do."
"Track my wife's phone. Use the tool I left with you before," ordered Davin, while sharply steering his car onto the highway.
"Okay, one second..." The sound of fingers typing rapidly on a keyboard could be heard. "I've got the signal! Even though the number is inactive now. But thanks to the supersonic Tracker you created 3 years ago, it's no problem."
Howard was incredibly proud of this tool because with it, he could track anyone, anywhere, even if the target's phone was turned off. Other tools could only track phones with active numbers.
But with this tool, the coordinates of the phone's location could still be tracked, and even the sounds around the phone could be heard through it, even if the phone's battery was dead.
Howard was immensely proud of that tool and received much praise for it. The patent for it was under the name The Special One. Howard temporarily acknowledged himself as The Special One, but he actually knew he was just an employee, because the real Special One was Davin.
"Ok."
"I'm sending the real-time coordinates to your phone. I'm also activating its hidden microphone—. I'll relay the audio to your car speakers."
Immediately, the navigation map on Davin's car dashboard changed, showing a blinking red dot—Vania's location. Simultaneously, faint sounds began to emanate from the car speakers.
---
In an old, remote warehouse on the outskirts of the city, about 20 km from PT Bangun Jaya, the atmosphere was dark and stifling. Several black, unlicensed cars had just parked roughly in the yard.
Vania was dragged out of a car trunk, a small black sack still over her head, her hands tied. She felt breathless, and fear made her almost faint.
"Damn, this woman is so beautiful, Boss!" grumbled one of the large-built thugs, his eyes leering at Vania's body, which he was holding.
The Boss, a cold-faced man with a scar on his cheek, nodded. "The order is clear. She has to 'have intercourse' with one of us, and there must be a video. It's to ruin her reputation. I don't know what she did to make the client want us to go this far. But our business is just money."
"I really want to, Boss!" exclaimed the same large thug, practically drooling. "Look at that body. Come on, Boss, let me go first. Let me be in the video with her."
The Boss shook his head, his face cynical. "No. I go first. You go to the red-light district too often; I don't want your leftovers. After me, the rest of you can have your turn."
Hearing that, the other thugs—about 15 of them—immediately got excited. They started gathering, holding a primitive "lottery" to determine the order of who would "enjoy" Vania after their boss.
The sound of rough laughter and lewd jokes filled the room.
Vania, whose head sack had been removed but whose mouth was still gagged with tape, and hands tied, heard everything clearly.
Her eyes widened in fear, tears streaming down. Her screams and cries were stifled by the tape, only producing pitiful muffled sounds. In her heart, only one name kept repeating: "Davin... Davin... help..."
---
Inside the car, Davin heard everything through the speakers. Every word, every laugh, every threat directed at Vania made his blood boil.
His usually calm face was now contorted by a rage so profound it was almost inhuman. He pressed the gas pedal until it almost went through the floor. The ordinary Kijang Innova shot forward like a rocket, overtaking all vehicles on the highway.
"Disrupt them, Howard. Make them deaf, to buy time. But try not to affect my wife's ears. I'll be there soon," Davin hissed through the phone, his voice trembling with restrained anger.
"Roger," Howard replied.
---
Inside the warehouse, the thugs were busy with their card lottery. Suddenly, a high-pitched sound, an ultra-frequency barely audible to the human ear, but with an intensity that was utterly torturous, emitted from Vania's confiscated phone, which was placed on a table.
"Aaaarrgghh! What is that?!" screamed one thug, immediately clutching his ears which felt like they were being stabbed with needles.
The other thugs also screamed in pain, trying to cover their ears. The sound pierced directly into their eardrums and nervous systems, causing disorientation and excruciating pain. They fell, writhing on the floor, no longer paying attention to Vania.
It was a sonic weapon technology designed by Davin and further developed by Howard, activated from thousands of kilometers away.
---
Davin saw the coordinates on his phone were very close. He swerved his car off the highway, barging onto a dark, dusty dirt road leading to an isolated old warehouse. He didn't turn off the engine or the lights. He just crashed straight in.
CRAAASSSHHH!!!
The warehouse's iron door, locked from the inside, was rammed by the Kijang Innova at full force. Metal screeched, wood splintered into pieces. The car went halfway in, spewing dust and plumes of smoke.
The thugs, still in pain from the high-frequency sound, were startled and got up in confusion. They thought it was a massive police raid.
"POLICE! SWAT!" one of them shouted in panic.
But what emerged from behind the smoke and dust wasn't a squad of armed troops. It was just one man. A man of not particularly large build, wearing a simple shirt that now looked crumpled.
But something was wrong. The aura he emitted wasn't that of an ordinary man. It was the aura of a killer, an aura of pure, cold, deadly violence.
Davin stepped out of the badly damaged car. His eyes swept the room, and in an instant, he had seen everything: the thugs still reeling from the painful audio, their boss trying to grab a pistol, and finally, Vania tied to a chair.
Her face was pale and streaked with tears, her eyes full of fear and... relief when she saw him.
"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!" yelled the Boss, raising his pistol and firing wildly towards Davin.
But Davin was already moving. His body was like a shadow, dodging the bullets with movements that defied logic, too fast for the eye to follow.
He was no longer Davin the ojol driver. He was the product of the best martial arts training since childhood, trained by masters unknown to the world but respected among martial arts experts. Combined with the rage of a husband seeing his wife in danger.
Seeing Davin, Vania was terrified. Afraid Davin would be killed, she chose to shut her eyes tightly.