Chapter Text
Ali is loading up.
On cat food, lots of them. His stash is coming dangerously low. Even Comot has given him side eyes all morning.
Ali did not want another episode of unexplained theft in his neighbourhood. Once is enough, and he did not fancy himself breaking in to return the loot.
And so after much urging from his cat, Ali entered Zali Mart and stocked up on kibbles and pouches, canned food too. Tossed in cat grooming supplies in the basket; better to have more on hand.
After some deliberation, an online game pack and a can of hairspray join the list.
Ali was sure his dad would be home late - he almost always was. That meant the evening and night were probably his, as long as his homework was done. Mostly.
Not that it mattered much. Ali didn’t count on having free time. He was already swamped with enough work as it was.
On the way home, Ali helped a lost tourist. He didn’t blame her, being lost is common for first-timers. What with the city’s confusing landmarks and the streets being too clean and uniform, it ended up looking like a maze designed by minimalists.
She offered to buy him a drink - just a small gesture, maybe to thank him for the directions, or maybe just to be polite.
Ali hesitated for a moment, then shook his head with a polite smile.
“Thanks, but I’m good,” he said, lifting his grocery bags to show he doesn't have much time.
Ali gave the sunglasses tourist directions, then continued on his way, bags of cat food rustling in tow.
Everyone was busy, and he missed his uncle more than he wanted to admit.
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In an undisclosed MATA facility. Alicia grits her teeth. Took a step forward, and struck.
The life of an agent isn’t as cushy as most would assume. Due to the nature of the work, missions are often gruelling, mentally and physically taxing.
For that, agents are required to be physically battle-ready at all times, in the off chance they are called on duty without prior warning. This requires agents to train their skills constantly.
Alicia is not an exception.
She herself is currently working through a punching bag. As a field agent who mainly relies on agility and ranged attack, a punching bag is not something that she trains with often.
Mostly Alicia sticks to parkour, cliff climbing if she’s feeling adventurous. But not now, this is not the time for target practice with her ballistique. Nor the time for an obstacle course, or even to practice her martial arts. This is simply her time to let out all her rage and frustration.
One fist slammed into its side, knocking the bag clean off its stand. The bag hit the ground with a dull thump, joining the rest already on the floor.
She let out a harsh sigh.
There are too many emotions tangled within her that Alicia ended up relying on the one she is most familiar with, anger. She moved to another bag on the rack.
A plastic crack broke through her fury. She turned, panting, to see Bakar leaning against the doorway, casually sipping from mineral water, a towel slung on his shoulder. He is likely already done with his training.
Bakar held out another bottle to her.
"Kick harder, would you?" Bakar jokes. "Once the floor breaks down, we can ask for a bigger training room." Probably tries to ease up the mood, but it’s just flat.
Alicia exhausted. She looked around for a bench - not interested with the effort of walking to one which is not even that far - and ended up sitting on a fallen bag. Bakar on the other hand just sat on the floor, he didn’t even glance at the bags. They probably wouldn’t hold up to his weight.
She looked at the other agent, thoughtful. He is her senior, had been here longer than she’d been alive. He had worked with Jenny too, didn’t he?
“Don’t you feel angry? Or anything at all?” Alicia asked. She herself is drowning in it. Grief, betrayal, sadness, she has pain, frustration and even anxiety. “After everything she did to us?”
“I’m angry too.” Bakar said, aware that Alicia is about to snap, he continue. “But if everyone angry, who’s left to stay calm?”
Hearing that, Alicia deflated.
“She ran off with IRIS,” Alicia’s voice is so low it was almost tucked inside herself, barely audible to Bakar. “Jenny… She betrayed us.” Her fury is still there, just pulled back.
“I trusted her. We trusted her.” Alicia’s voice cracked, her heart wouldn't stop screaming. “Why would she do that?”
Her heart hurt.
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General Rama called them in for a debrief.
There are four of them debriefing in the room this time. Alicia caught herself glancing at her chair. And she is not the only one, Rizwan did it too; eyes linger a little too long at the corner before looking away as if nothing happened.
The lights dimmed slightly as the projection screen flickered to life. One by one, footage snippets from the last 48 hours rolled in -mostly street surveillance, but there also CCTV and Dash Cam. All of it funnelled through MATA’s facial recognition system to search for the traitor.
General Rama presses a button on the remote. A surveillance video from a local mart came forward.
It is not a long one, less than 5 minutes video. It is a footage of Jenny – the traitor, talking with a schoolboy.
It took a minute for Alicia to realize that she knew who Jenny talked to. Another minute for her to realise that Bakar too knew the boy.
By his tightened jaw, he likely realized it earlier than her.
The video paused, freezing the image.
Alicia leaned forward, her brow furrowing in disbelief.
It is Ali.
No one in the room reacted at first. General Rama and Agent Rizwan didn’t even know who he was. Just some kid who’d somehow crossed paths with a rogue agent and got flagged by MATA’s facial database.
Alicia stared harder, confirming the identity herself. Same haircut, the same schoolbag that he wears to school, same body movement.
This meeting must be recent. Ali wasn’t suddenly athletic. He has no suspicious injuries. No weird behaviour or even sudden mood swings. No jump in grades or class absences.
His schedule was laughably predictable. Go to school. Go home. Play games with his friend Viktor.
If anything had happened, Alicia would be the first one who would notice. After all, she was trained to detect discrepancies, and she practiced it the most at school. It would tick her off.
A few more clicks, and the image changed. This time, a full profile with an ID photo blown up on screen.
ALI BIN GHAZALI.
AGE: 12.
STATUS: CIVILIAN.
ADDRESS: -----
General Rama stood quiet, then remembered that he had to do the explanation this time. He coughed in embarrassment before talking.
“Ali bin Ghazali. Son of Dr. Ghazali. 12 years old. Anything else?” General started.
“My nephew.” Bakar offered, arms folded.
“We attend the same school.” Alicia grumble. Same school, ha! More like same class. His table placement is right behind her. Clutz through and through, he spilled soda on his own tablet during midterms.
“Well.” Bakar scratches his head, skewing his hat. “That time with IRIS?” Bakar explains.
Rama nodded. “You mentioned it in the report. He found it?”
“Kiddo got hold of the package by accident. But he gave it back when I asked for it.” Pretty much a case of meet-leave-forget then, until the footage.
Has Jenny targeted Ali because of that day?
“Is this an act of revenge?” Rizwan asked, eyes narrowing as he considered the possibilities. Fingers rested against his chin, brows drawn as he stared at the frozen image. “Why target someone unknown… and not one of us?”
“And more importantly,” Rizwan added, “what if she did something to him?”
“Alright, standard procedure.” General Rama pulls the shot.
He clicked the remote again, turning off the screen. Then light come flooding.
“Call witness in. Soft interrogation.”
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