News Broadcast - Radio/TV
"...and now we turn to a breaking news story that has shocked the entire nation. Thirteen individuals have been reported missing this past month, and all of them share a disturbing connection: each one was an employee of a company known as 'Innovate Solutions.' However, authorities have discovered that 'Innovate Solutions' operates under a false name, and its true ownership remains shrouded in secrecy.
Inspector Reyes, Police Spokesperson: 'We are taking these disappearances very seriously. We are following every lead and working tirelessly to uncover the true identity of those behind 'Innovate Solutions.' We urge anyone with information, no matter how small, to come forward.'
The families of the missing are deeply grieving. A vigil was held last night outside the company's known address – a nondescript office building in Quezon City – with relatives holding photos of their loved ones and pleading for their safe return.
We will continue to bring you updates on this developing news story as they become available..."
"Oh, believe me, sis...most of them are probably dead!" said one teacher, Mrs. Aquino, while having coffee.
"What are you saying? Be careful with your words...I hope not. Just imagine how sad their families must be," said another teacher, Ms. Bautista, shaking her head.
"Sis, you know it's a trend now. They join these lowkey suspicious clubs, oh look, a company under a fake name, then poof, they're dead or they get a contract abroad," Mrs. Aquino added, shrugging.
"It might even be the black market, gangs are trending now too. Oh dear, that's why I'm strict with my kids," said Ms. Cruz, worried.
Keefe sat quietly at his desk, checking the children's test papers. Their 3rd quarter had just ended, so he was busy grading. He tried to focus on the neat rows of answers, the childish handwriting, anything to block out the grim conversation.
He couldn't help but listen to the news and his co-teachers' gossip. He sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. The world felt increasingly dangerous, unpredictable.
...
Keefe gathered his things, a stack of papers still needing grading, and headed towards the gate.
As he stepped outside, he blinked, surprised to see Quen leaning against the gate, looking like he was ready for a night out. The idiot was even dressed up. Quen was dressed to the nines, in a sleek black long-sleeved polo, white slacks, and stylish boots.
"? What are you doing here?" Keefe asked, puzzled.
.....
The bass thundered through the floor, climbing up Keefe's legs and into his chest. The club lights flickered, dazzling and uneven. Bodies danced and collided, a sea of shouting drunks and stumbling figures. Some were kissing, others more aggressive.
What a mess, Keefe thought, tightening his grip on his cellphone. He was already so bored, desperate to leave.
He didn't really want to come, but Quen, his best friend, had thrown a tantrum, claiming he'd be lonely and miserable if Keefe didn't join him for a night of fun before the deadline.
Keefe was also tired from work, having finished late. He was surprised to find his friend waiting for him at the gate, already dressed up.
He was actually embarrassed because he was only wearing a white t-shirt, his undershirt after taking off his teacher's uniform. At least it was still clean. He shivered, suddenly self-conscious.
If he hadn't been embarrassed by the ruckus his friend made in front of the school, he really wouldn't have gone. Quen was stomping and shouting that his friend no longer loved him, and had just left him to wander around and get hurt.
There were drunk people shouting even though they were just next to each other. They couldn't stand properly, throwing up.
"I told you, you should have kept your polo on," Quen said, cutting into his thoughts.
"Are you an idiot? I'm not wearing a collared shirt to a club," Keefe replied.
Quen shrugged, swirling the ice in his glass. He had been moving between the bar and the dance floor for a while. "Suit yourself."
"That has the school logo on it, you crazy," Keefe muttered.
"Just saying... don't even think about borrowing my jacket," Quen grinned.
Keefe rolled his eyes. "As if I'd borrow that."
They joked around until Keefe noticed a waiter lingering near them, glancing in their direction. The waiter seemed nervous, hesitant. Finally, he approached.
"U-Uhm... hello, s-sir," the waiter stammered, pointing to a room on the second floor. "You're being called upstairs."
The VIP? Keefe's mind raced. He didn't know anyone rich enough to afford a VIP room, especially in this kind of club.
Both of them, as friends, were poor. So which animal would spend a huge amount just for tonight?
He remembered another friend of theirs, who used to joke that he might reach a point where he'd sell his body and stop working.
His hair stood on end. Right, he hadn't heard from him for days.
Did he really sell himself?
Something caught in Keefe's throat. Something felt so wrong.
Quen, meanwhile, was delighted. "VIP, huh? Wow, my charm is really something!" he said, nudging Keefe.
"Please hurry, th-they might get impatient... especially about," the waiter whispered, leaning closer, "the payment, they said."
Keefe frowned, confused. His friend, on the other hand, seemed to be celebrating, probably drunk.
"They? Shit, man, it looks like they're interested in you too, HAHAHA," Quen said, his face already resting on his arm.
Keefe sighed, rubbing his face. His friend was really drunk. "Look, can we know who it is? Maybe you've got the wrong guys."
The waiter shook his head, pointing at Quen's attire. "They told me to bring the man in the black long-sleeved shirt to the bar."
Keefe looked around. Quen was the only one wearing a black long-sleeved shirt. He groaned inwardly. What kind of mess have you gotten into again?
He leaned in, whispering angrily. "What kind of mess have you gotten into again? Did you mess with a syndicate boss's kid, huh?"
Quen grinned, sat up straight, and ran a hand through his hair. "Lead the way!" he said, swaying towards the stairs. The waiter silently followed.
Quen entered the VIP room first. Keefe was about to follow when the waiter stopped him.
"Y-You have to stay here, sir."
"My friend-"
"Only he was invited."
Keefe frowned, about to push past when he was blocked by two large men in black suits.
"No one's allowed to enter," one said, gently pushing him away from the door.
"Is this some kind of joke?" Keefe asked, forcing a laugh. The serious faces of the men instilled fear in him.
"What's happening-" His words were cut short when he heard a loud scream from inside the room.
"QUEN!" Keefe lunged, but the men were stronger, easily pushing him back.
"What's happening?! What did you do to Quen?!"
"S-Sir, please calm down-" Keefe pushed the waiter, furious. He could hear the commotion from inside.
"Who the hell is in there?!" He scanned his surroundings and saw a fire extinguisher hanging on the wall.
He grabbed it, facing the bodyguards with a forced smile. "Hello." Before they could react, he sprayed them with the extinguisher, blinding them in a cloud of white powder. Unprepared, Keefe swung the heavy extinguisher at the heads of the two men guarding the door. They collapsed to the floor.
Keefe kicked the door, which was locked. He kicked it again and again until it burst open. He aimed the extinguisher inside, ready to defend himself.
Three men in black had just finished beating Quen. Quen was curled up on the floor, barely conscious, blood trickling from his mouth. The men were surprised to see Keefe.
"How did you get in?!" one shouted, bewildered.
Before they could react, Keefe used the extinguisher again. He sprayed them, and while they were disoriented, he struck them one by one. He swung the heavy extinguisher with all his might, connecting with a sickening thud.
However, one caught him. The biggest of the three lunged at him, and Keefe barely had time to react. He threw a powerful punch that landed on Keefe's jaw. Keefe's vision spun, losing his balance.
He pushed himself up, ignoring the throbbing pain in his jaw. He had to protect his friend.
His friend lay sprawled on the floor, bruised and with bleeding lips.
"K-Keefe..." Quen said with difficulty.
"Here! He's in here!" He heard shouts from the hallway. More bodyguards were coming.
He rushed towards Quen before the bodyguard in the room could grab him, about to help him up when he felt cold steel against his temple.
Shit.
His body went cold when he heard it cock.
"Turn around."
He slowly turned and saw a woman, smaller than him but tall compared to his height.
The upper part of her face was covered by a big black flat cap, the gun right in his face.
It's okay, it's okay, this can still be talked out... I don't think so, she just cocked it... no no no this can still be saved.
He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
"Well, well, Keefe Delano. I didn't expect to see you in this line of business."
She raised her chin, enough for Keefe to see her full face. He was stunned. What greeted him was a familiar face of someone he knew.
One of her eyebrows slightly raised looking at him questioningly.
"Fey?"
In front of him was no other than, Peitho.
Peitho Castellano
His first high school crush.