Silence engulfed the room. Both men reflected on what they'd just heard—rage and disgust burning in Timothy's heart, while the other sat in stillness, his face blank as he processed it all.
Timothy yelled. "Shit! The city is going to be tense from now till their announced date. Damn it, can death do its job early for once?"
The still Raymond crashed to his seat, focused. He spoke out a question, his voice carrying this concern chill in it, he said.
"How big do you think the cataclysm will be?"
Timothy's eyes shifted to Raymond; he thought for a while and wanted to answer but as he tried speaking, the door of the entrance opened and a known voice chipped in.
"A big catastrophe awaits us."
The two turned, seeing it was none other than their commander. Layla continued speaking.
"Sorry for cutting you off. She held a tablet in her hand and swiped the screen, connecting it to the TV. The screen split into two parts; a recognizable face—Al-Daeem—appeared on the right side of the screen, and the other part just showed a wasteland—desert land. Layla spoke out, saying.
"Sorry it's coming late, but we're in for a big one. The guys said no words; confusion filled their eyes.
She understood their confusion and explained more.
"You're looking at the last possible survivor of the Dahavi Kingdom."
The words Layla said didn't ring a bell to either of them, but one quickly started grasping the name Dahavi.
Timothy spoke under his breath, muttering words softly.
"Dahavi Dahavi—where have I heard it before?"
Layla took the stage to speak amid the guys' confusion.
"You've all been busy with personal missions," she began, glancing at Timothy with a pointed look. "I'd like to keep my job, so I did what I could to dig up information about him—and it turns out he was the prince of that kingdom."
No response came from the boys. She sighed and said,
"Still nothing."
She spoke inwardly, God, I hate it when I'm talking to men and they aren't following. Is it the way I talk that's weird, or are these two just not getting it?
Then she spoke aloud,
"You both know about the civil war that happened between Ultra City and Orient City, right?"
The boys nodded in agreement.
Their positive response relieved her; the calm in her green eyes urged her to continue.
"If you know about the war, then you should know this..." She scrolled through her tablet, zooming in on the TV screen. Pointing toward it, she explained, "These two barriers—one for Ultra City and the other for Orient City—mark each city's border."
"You might wonder what that has to do with what I'm saying, but it does." Her tone began to shift, soft at first, then growing firm and edged with anger. "They lied to us—the academy instructors, the journalists, the city news—everyone. They all lied."
"How, Miss Layla?" Raymond asked.
"They told us that during the war, our forces invaded Orient on foot. But it's all lies. Both cities turned Dahavi into their battlefield—wasting lives, innocent lives—and after everything, they buried the truth."
Her voice trembled slightly as she continued. "He's the truth-teller now, exposing what this city really is—a place that claims to be free of crime but was built on it. And because of that, he believes he has every right to do whatever he wants to this city."
She paused, lowering her head before looking up again. "It's our job to protect the innocent. The elders might know the truth about the war, but we—the youth, the next generation—deserve protection. So please… protect us all."
Timothy sighed before saying,
"Will do, Layla."
He turned to Raymond.
"Quick, go alert the others. They should've heard as well. Arrange a meeting—I might join you. I have somewhere to be first."
Raymond nodded and rushed out of the room. "Understood," he said as he exited.
Timothy also planned to leave, but he didn't—he couldn't. Layla looked weary.
He walked closer to where she sat and asked softly,
"Are you alright, Layla?"
She didn't answer at first. Moments later, she forced the words out, her voice wavering with emotion.
"Oh, nothing. I'm fine."
"No, no, you're not fine. Tell me what happened," Timothy urged.
"Nothing. I'm okay. It's just… all these issues," she replied, forcing a smile.
Timothy shook his head, waving a finger.
"I can tell you're lying. You know, he wouldn't ask—or maybe it didn't occur to him—but I'm curious, Layla. How did you get all this information? These are things that should've stayed buried, but somehow you got them just by digging further. I want to know how."
She didn't reply, so he pressed again.
"Speak, Layla. How did you get the info?"
Suddenly, realization struck him. His eyes widened.
"Did you go see him again? You did it with him, didn't you?"
Seeing the rage in his eyes, Layla immediately responded,
"No! Not yet… but I promised that soon I'd succumb."
Timothy's voice erupted. "No, you won't!"
Layla rose to her feet, tears threatening to fall from her green eyes.
"It's the only way! It's been the only way we've managed to keep this job. Don't you get it? I should've been fired long ago—he helped us! Every time something went wrong, he covered for us. No matter how much I stall, he always gets what he wants!"
Timothy's rage boiled over. "Fuck him, Layla! I'm done being someone's pet, okay? No matter what he says or promises, we're not letting him control our lives anymore. I'm cutting loose every chain that's been holding me down.
So now tell me—say it to my face. I don't want to be someone's pet anymore! "
Layla looked at him, then broke down, tears spilling as she rushed into Timothy's chest. He held her tightly as she muttered through her sobs.
"I don't want to be a pet."
His voice softened, calm returning to him.
"It's okay. I promised you before, and I'll say it again—I will fix things."
As he patted her head, he said to himself.
Don't you worry, I'll fix things even if I have to eat up my humanity for it.
****
10:12 a.m.
Grassy hills rolled quietly under the morning sun.
A lone motorhome stood parked amid the still fields—the home of Tyler Smith.
Inside, Tomika Smith, her warm brown skin glowing faintly in the sunlight, lay across the couch in jean shorts and an armless shirt. Headphones plugged in, she scrolled lazily through her phone, humming along to the song playing.
"You know it's not the same… as it was… as it was..."
Then came a knock.
At first, she ignored it. But when it grew louder, she sighed, pulling off her headset. The others inside were still sound asleep, so she went to answer the door.
When she opened it, a face she'd never seen before greeted her.
"Good morning, miss. My name is Timothy Slinger. Is Tyler Smith home?"