Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The moment Gempa stepped out of the shuttle, he was nearly washed away by a tidal wave of nostalgia.

The air of Pulau Rintis was exactly how he remembered it. Salty, with the barest hint of ozone and fish. Afternoon sun scorched the grounds below, effectively vacating the premises. The stretch of land was completely empty when they docked, their arrival quiet and unnoticed.

He had to say it was a welcome change; they were here as Gempa and Taufan, residents of Pulau Rintis – not Gempa and Taufan, members of TAPOPS. As a matter of fact, their return home was so anticlimactic that it hardly felt real.

“Woah,” Taufan spoke for both of them, pulling his TAPOPS-issued suitcase down the shuttle’s ramp. He brushed a handful of windswept caramel hair over his head, messy locks falling between his fingers. “It’s like a different place out here.”

Gempa’s gold eyes twinkled as he felt a tug in the corners of his lips. “Yeah,” he agreed, eyes raking across the playground they used to spend all evening in. Just him, Taufan, Halilintar and their imagination, until Adu Du came knocking on their front door and demanded all their cocoa. “Has that slide always been there?”

“Who cares about a slide?” Taufan waved him off, grinning. “Come on! Let’s go surprise Hali. We can pretend we’re customers and order a cocoa drink with no cocoa!”

“He’ll dump the cocoa on you instead,” Gempa pointed out. “I bet he’s already sensed us before we entered the stratosphere, remember?”

“Duh, it’s the thought that counts.”

Gempa shoved him, sighing. He turned to the shuttle, entered a sequence on the keypad, scanned his thumbprint, eyes and ID card then stepped backwards. They watched as its metal panels slid over each other and clicked into place, and by the end it resembled an unassuming neon pink BMW (or as unassuming as neon pink can be).

After leaving the car into a suitable parking spot, they took off in the direction of not the house but their second home, Kokotiam. They had helped Tok with his stall for as long as they could remember, often doing homework and hosting friends over, spending more time there than they did in their actual home. Even as they left for TAPOPS, Halilintar had continued with the business, promising them he’d take over until they could come back during their holidays.

“It’ll be harder, but it’s nothing abang can’t handle,” he’d said, stoic even as they revealed they’d be living in outer space and can’t see him as often anymore. “Tok did this all himself before us, remember? We can manage. Go, you don’t need to worry about us.”

Thinking of his brother had him bouncing on his heels, eager to reunite with Halilintar after years of separation. There was so much they had to fill him in—the planets they saw, the people they met. Maybe they could bring him to TAPOPS as well, show him what it’s been like for the past decade. They had too much to catch up on and nearly not enough time.

In his excitement, he didn’t even notice he was jogging until Taufan stumbled up to him, luggage clutched to his chest and caught his arm joking, “Slow down!” But he too, was grinning like a loon. “We’re not catching a speeder, are we?”

“Technically?” 

“Him? We’re never catching him. I’d sooner deadlift 300 kilograms as prep.”

They knew Halilintar’s lightning well; how he was so fast he could practically be in two places at once. That was when they were children – they all grew so much. He was dying to see just how much Halilintar improved in his absence.

Did he still use his swords? Use himself as a charger when his phone battery ran low? They had so much tips to share and notes to compare. What were the chances they could convince Tok and Halilintar to close early?

They all but sprinted across the final stretch of land, threading dirt and grass. The view of a stall’s silhouette came into view from afar, and Taufan was aloft, feet planted firmly on his hoverboard. Gempa yelped and grabbed its edge just before he took off, his own suitcase falling in the mud. 

“Hali!” The winds carried Taufan’s singsong voice. “We’re baaaaack!”

He swept in from the sky, performing flamboyant and completely unnecessary flips for dramatics all the while Gempa’s clinging on for dear life, then came to a complete stop at the front of the Kokotiam. Gempa let go of Taufan’s hoverboard just before he dismissed it, landing softly on the tiled floor below. 

The figure moved to the front of the stall.

Gempa’s expression brightened. “Hey, bang, it’s been—”

He froze.

Standing there, emerged from the shadows of the stall, was a teenage boy with dyed blue hair and a lollipop between his lips. He looked unamused and maybe even ticked off by their show.

“Good afternoon,” Not Halilintar greeted, unabashed, “may I take your order, gentlemen?”

Taufan blinked, recovering infinitely quicker than Gempa could ever hope to, who was still catching flies in his mouth.

“Who in this star system are you?” he demanded. “Where’s Halilintar and Tok Aba?”

The teen opened his mouth to answer only to close it right after. Gempa could practically see the question marks floating over his head.

His cluelessness should have been the first warning sign.

Gempa gave the stall a onceover, slowly realizing bit by bit that everything was different. The stall hadn’t just gotten a simple upgrade or a paint job; the machines were all new, he didn’t recognize half the items on the menu, and unless Halilintar had developed earth powers overnight, the architecture looked too fresh and modern for it to resemble anything like the Kokotiam. At least the Kokotiam they knew.

The other warning sign took form in a literal sign. The signboard hung up above the stall, once faded and familiar with a doodle of Tok’s face, was replaced by a disgustingly sleek, gray design of the same thing. A soulless caricature of the original, reworked for modern audiences that lacked warmth and meaning. 

He’d seen it happening across galaxies and their franchises. He just didn’t think it would happen to them.

And—was that takeaway? Kokotiam didn’t do takeaway; it was too much single-use plastics, Tok had said, so the Kokotiam only served cocoa with ceramic cups on traditional patterned saucers. Most of their customers were residents, and with such a small village, it was only natural that everybody knew each other and hung around for chitchat anyways, so there was no use for plastic cups for them to take home.

“Sugar levels?” Taufan read aloud, squinting at the menu. “Can I get a Cocoa Frappuccino with 200% sugar?”

The boy didn’t blink. “No.”

“Aww...”

Gempa’s ears perked at the whir of an engine.

He craned his head towards the road, just in time to see a motorcycle parking on the side of the road. His first thought when his eyes landed on the bike was, That looks far too expensive for Rintis. Its coat was full matte black, with red streaks that looked just like lightning. 

It looked disgustingly expensive and a nightmare to maintain, but it was also undeniably cool, even for their standards. He’d boarded and helped repair any aircrafts in his time in space, but nothing could triumph his appreciation for Earth’s vehicles, even if they were less advanced and efficient in comparison.

The biker, dressed entirely in black in spite of the burning weather, put the sports bike in rest. Once he balanced the vehicle, he removed the key from the ignition and slotted it back into the breast pocket of his leather jacket. For a second, with his stature and sharp mannerisms, he reminded Gempa of Captain Kaizo. There was no effort wasted in his actions, every movement calculated and precise.

He removed his helmet. And Gempa’s chest fluttered with excitement.

The years had been kind to him. Halilintar had completely grown out of his baby fat, his features just as sharp as his conduct. He was taller, more confident and assured in his own movements, unlike the awkward lanky phase in his teenage years. Even his aesthetic had evolved- shifting from dark and broody to a dark and mysterious biker. 

Halilintar’s hair was damp, skin glistening from the heat. That’s what you get for dressing like a funeral home, Gempa almost said in a teasing tone. You didn’t trip in the clearance section of a bike store, did you?

Taufan threw himself at Halilintar without hesitation, arms spread wide and wrapping around his torso. Halilintar tensed, going rigid.

“We’re back!” Taufan cheered, unbothered by the leather jacket digging into his cheek. “Did you miss us? Did you? I know you did!”

Gempa smiled. This was where Halilintar would relax, smile, then return Taufan’s hug. He’d join them and Halilintar would wrap his arms around the both of them like he was holding his entire world.

Instead Halilintar pushed Taufan away, brows furrowed and lips pressed tight in confusion. His demeanor changed, turning cautious and guarded.

Gempa’s face fell. Taufan froze, arms still open but not quite knowing what to do with them.

“Hali?” Gempa asked, dread creeping up his spine. “What’s wrong?”

Halilintar almost looked baffled by his question.

“Sorry, I—” 

He shook his head, sighing. 

“Do I know you?”

Chapter Text

By the time Gempa stumbled out of the hangar bay, covered in soot and who knows what else, Commander Koko Ci was already waiting for him.

The mission had taken weeks—days of discrete espionage, shady dealings and surviving at least five underground fighting rings. When they had warned him that this mission would take time, they had not been joking.

(Then again, Admiral Tarung was rarely one for jokes unless he was off the clock. The Commander... not so much, but Gempa was used to worse. This mission almost seemed like a vacation, and only three people have tried to kill him in his sleep this time. 

Its only real challenge was the duration, where he had to endure weeks’ worth of complaints from Taufan, who was too busy passing paperwork off to his cadets to do anything of substance.)

The moment he noticed the Commander, Gempa straightened his back, his arms itching to raise into the familiar salute. It was almost instinct by now, the muscle memory drilled into him after years of greeting his superior. So despite his exhaustion, the lead weighing down his bones, he schooled his face into one of neutrality and approached him with firm and calmed steps.

He didn’t know why Koko Ci was here, waiting. In every other mission, Gempa’s usual routine would be to take an hour-long shower to scrub his skin raw, take a 16-hour nap, then only begin drafting up his reports for submission. Seeing him here now... it could mean he was knee deep in trouble.

His footsteps echoed in the bay, emphasized by the lack of activity in the late hour. His treacherous mind began concocting all the ways he could have jeopardized the mission. Unless Koko Ci had a camera following him in every step of the way, he couldn’t think of anything that was particularly in need of correction.

Had he taken too long? Had they wasted too many resources? Had he potentially sullied TAPOPS’ name sometime in the mission? Or was this completely unrelated to the mission, and his students or Taufan screwed up somewhere else?

“Lance Corporal,” Koko Ci greeted, saluting. Gempa returned a salute of his own, with practiced perfection and precise angles. “Another successful mission, I take it?”

The Commander was smiling, to his surprise. Gempa just managed to suppress the sigh of relief that almost escaped his lips.

“Yes, Commander,” he agreed. “The unidentified power sphere is currently being transported to Forensics by my team. However none of the charging ports on my ship were compatible with its structure; they suspect it belongs to the first generation.”

Koko Ci raised a brow. “First generation power spheres are few and far between.” He pursed his lips. “I, personally, have only heard of them in passing. If they are what you say they are...”

Crap. Did he say the wrong thing?

“They are still attempting ID,” Gempa said quickly. “The priority is to restore its power source so they can determine the state of its databanks and coding.”

Koko Ci shifted his position, rolling his shoulders to fold his hand behind his back. Instinctively, Gempa straightened his spine so much that he looked like a walking stick.

“Words cannot express how proud I am that your performance is exceeding all our expectations at such a young age. Truly, you have the makings of a true warrior.” Gempa’s face burned red. “However.”

Oh, well, there’s the catch.

“I did not take time out of my schedule just for a simple social call.” He turned on his heels. “Come, we have much to discuss in the privacy of my office.”

Gempa gulped, wiping his sweaty palms on the front of his ash-caked shirt, and followed without so much of a protest.

Koko Ci’s office was colder than he expected. Gempa subconsciously huddled himself for warmth, but quickly forced himself into a proper sitting position when he remembered he was facing his superior.

Across him, the Commander was reading through some papers, setting them on the desk with an almost careless attitude. Gempa couldn’t see the contents from where he was sitting, but from the alien’s stormy expression behind his sunglasses, he gathered it wasn’t anything positive.

Maybe he should have taken that shower before they docked into TAPOPS. If he knew he was getting into trouble, he’d rather be suspended in a clean shirt and jeans than looking like a walking chimney.

The Commander filed the papers in a brown folder before turning his full attention back to Gempa. “I’m sure you are wondering why I called you in,” he said. “I will not waste anymore of your time, so let’s begin with the more pressing news.”

Gempa nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

“Have you met Corporal Fang?”

“Yes,” Gempa answered. “We went to the same school for a year, I think. Though he was on a mission of his own at the time.”

“Ah, the one where he filed several appeals for, and complained to hell and high waters,” Koko Ci said. “It seems that his patience has finally reached its limit. For the past year, he’s been distancing himself from TAPOPS and reintegrating his operations back in Sunnova. He officially submitted his transfer request earlier this month; a few days before you departed for your mission.” He paused. “Do you know what this means, Lance Corporal?”

Gempa stared.

“He found better benefits with a lower mortality rate?”

“A depressingly realistic, but incorrect answer. Sunnova may be less life threatening in their schedules, their recruits will suffer mentally and physically from an unfulfilling 9-5 five days a week, RSI, and broken coffee machines.”

He coughed into his fist. 

“This means we currently have a vacancy for the position of Corporal,” he continued. “One that I’m considering you for.”

Gempa all but jumped out from his seat. “Me?” he demanded. “But I—”

“There are senior members with more experience for the position, of course, but experience is not all I’m looking for. Other important criteria like leadership, maturity, attitudes...”

“But why me?”

Koko Ci met his gaze.

Gempa, despite himself, started picking at his fingernails and pulling the skin under them.

“I mean.” He pulled a hangnail from his thumb, suppressing a hiss it finally came off. “Not to sound ungrateful! But there are other people more qualified for Corporal, like Sai and Shielda!”

“I have considered them,” Koko Ci agreed. “They turned the offer down after some consideration. When I asked them to give me any recommendations...”

He gestured to the whole of Gempa, almost as if—

“Why?” Gempa blurted. “I nearly buried them under a ravine! We don’t exactly see eye-to-eye.”

“They are also professional enough to push aside their personal biases to realize your true potential,” Koko Ci assured him. 

“What about Boboiboy?”

“He was, also, transferred to Sunnova, albeit to his Father’s squadron.”

“And who did he—”

“You.”

“Yaya?”

“Not eligible.”

“Ying?”

“Neither is she.”

“Gopal?”

“Thankfully, no. I fear for the cadets that may find themselves under his tutelage.”

“But—”

Koko Ci levelled him with a stern glare. Gempa felt like he was 14 again, a fresh cadet living out of a broom closet by the cafeteria.

“I would not have heeded their recommendations if I disagreed with their judgement,” he chided. “There are more factors at play than just plain friendly support, Lance Corporal. Background checks, psych evaluations, competency in the field—all these tests and more are conducted to assess your eligibility for the role. Do not think for a second this was a hastily made decision without any input.”

“No! I never meant to insinuate anything...”

“There is just one issue.” He hopped off his chair and dug around his folders, where only his antennae were visible across the table. It twitched and dangled as he opened drawer after drawer to no avail. “Which brings us to our next topic of discussion.”

Gempa’s tongue tasted like sand.

“Which is?”

“Aha! Here it is,” Koko Ci rejoiced, holding up a dusty blue plastic folder. He reseated himself, but didn’t open it immediately. “Before we begin, do you have any questions?”

“And if I do?” Gempa stammered. “If I accept, I mean?”

“You will be transferred to Sunnova to begin your official training,” answered the alien. “Some of your schedule will include shadowing experienced Corporals, taking mandatory lessons, and undergoing physical, mental and psychological evaluations.”

“Then I’ll be a Corporal?”

“Then you’ll be put on probation. After a set amount of missions, or you’ve proven yourself, only then you will be recognized as an official Corporal.”

Gempa’s head spun from the mountain of information being dumped on him.

That’s a lot of work... at least quadruple the catchup he and Taufan had to go through to pass the entrance exam for TAPOPS when they first joined. What’s worse is that Sunnova ran on a completely different operating system than TAPOPS and was located in another sector, which meant he would have to travel and get used to a new work culture entirely. And that’s not mentioning he would have to leave his familiar coworkers and deal with people he might not get along well.

But it was growth, right? Everyone always said that you only grow when you step outside your comfort zone. But he would be flying into a different star system entirely; lightyears away from his own home planet.

“How long would it take?”

“It depends,” Koko Ci answered smoothly, though with no small amount of sympathy. “Corporal Fang, one of our youngest Corporals, began his training when he was 11. He was only deemed an official Corporal when he turned 17. He is one of the faster, but youngest cadet to become Corporal.”

Gempa blanched. “6 years!” And Fang had the support and resources of Captain Kaizo, one of the highest-ranking members in the organization. Gempa was already 21 years old; he didn’t want to leave now and return in his early thirties!

“Again, it is examined on a case-by-case basis. With the achievements lying under your belt, I would estimate your training taking only 2-3 years at the maximum.”

That’s still too long. Especially without...

Wait a minute!

“Who else?” Gempa realized, eyes widening. “Is Taufan...?”

The incredulous look on Koko Ci told him all he needed to know.

“He’s- he’s powerful, like me,” he choked out. “Everything I’ve done, I wouldn’t have done it without him. Is he—”

“Cadet Taufan is indeed a powerhouse,” Koko Ci agreed. “However, his aptitude for the position is... fleeting, like his powers. Being a Corporal demands more than just raw power alone. It requires responsibility. Leadership. Charisma. All of which he is lacking.” He shook his head, sighing. “Which is why he remains a cadet to this day. If only he had half your attitude, I would have considered him as well.”

Gempa’s face burned, shooting up to defend his brother. “Taufan’s not—” He paused.

(“Gem, look! I wonder what this plant tastes like- MY TONGUE! IT’S GROWING EYEBALLS!”

“Hey, how many watermelon seeds do you think I can stick in Tarung’s before it starts growing?”

“Kaizo! Think fast!” [He was then rushed to the med bay with a sword sticking out of his chest.]

“Gempaaaaa... uwah... I got arrested so please come and bail me out? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?”)

Gempa shut up.

Thankfully, Koko Ci didn’t press the matter, because he returned his attention back to the blue folder.

“I understand this might come as a shock to you,” Koko Ci said empathetically. “You will be the first human to be considered as Corporal, and that comes with its own set of challenges. Whatever you choose, I will assist you to the best of my ability.”

“Ah—thank you—?”

“Not a word of this should leave this office,” he said sternly. “This is a classified matter, but not a scheduled one. Which is why I will be giving you time to consider.”

Gempa was almost afraid to know the answer.

“How lo—”

Koko Ci pressed a button next to the mic attached to his table. “Cadet Taufan, you may now enter.”

The sliding doors opened to reveal Taufan, clad in a crumpled shirt and shorts he clearly loaned from Gempa’s closet. He strode into the room, canned soda in hand and plopped himself next to Gempa with all the confidence of a dementia-addled patient.

Gempa nearly gaped at his show of audacity, but his professionalism trained his disbelief into a form of a barely hidden grimace.

“’Sup,” Taufan greeted them casually, taking a long swig of his soda. “What do ya need me for?” His face brightened at his brother. “Gemgem! You’re back! How was the mission?”

The earth elemental jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, ignoring the yelp of pain that followed. Thankfully, he got the memo and managed a hasty salute, albeit halfhearted and done against his will.

Koko Ci did not look impressed at his casual disrespect, but he didn’t press the issue any further. He simply gave a stiff nod of acknowledgement and opened the blue folder before him, his fingers clearing streaks of dust on the surface.

“To confirm with both of you, you have been working in TAPOPS for 7 Earth years, correct?”

Gempa nodded slowly, not trusting him nor Taufan to speak.

“Noted,” he said. “Let’s cut to the chase.” 

The Commander cleared his throat, slamming a big red stamp onto the documents. It shook the table and jolted the siblings from their seats, their eyes blinking wide in confusion.

“Starting today, you two are suspended from your positions. Pack your bags and go home.”

Chapter Text

For as long as Halilintar could remember, he’s always been... empty.

Not necessarily about his physiology, mind you. He has two lungs, a stomach, a liver and whatever’s needed to sustain life. On all accounts, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with his body. 

It’s the void, the gaping maw of phantom teeth and ice-cold breath. A black hole that can never be filled no matter what he did, how much he tried. 

There was something missing. He was a puzzle with a missing piece that was his soul. A body reanimated not by necromancy but reason, rationality and his heartbeat. He’s alive because his heart still beats, because the blood in his veins was still warm, but there was no rhyme or reason behind their function. 

His body says, ‘We’re alive, you see? You’re breathing air. You’re exchanging oxygen for carbon dioxide to create energy. That’s life.’

His mind says, ‘What do we get after today? Another day to his age and a half-assed assignment? Is there a point to all this?’

The point being—

“And in conclusion,” Solar was saying, slamming his hand into the screen behind him, “chihuahuas are the superior canine, and we should all grovel before their paws and pledge a lifetime of servitude to them.”

Halilintar fiddled with his bag of chips, scowling at the PowerPoint on the projector screen.

“For the last time,” Quake snapped, throwing a pen at the presenter at the front, “we are not getting an emotional support chihuahua.”

Solar caught the pen without looking away from his laptop. “You see, I have anticipated this response,” he said ominously, clicking his mouse. “Which is exactly why I have prepared another PowerPoint for this scenario.”

He clicked out of the slides titled ‘Emotional Support Chihuahuas and Their Benefits’, scrolled down the endless list of files, and clicked into one named ‘RE: Quake #6.’

‘RE: Quake #6’ only had one slide with an enlarged picture of a middle finger. Quake popped the top button from his collared shirt, took his headphones off his head to place them on his neck, then leapt out on his seat and threw himself at Solar, who also saw this coming and already bolted out the classroom. Quake took off in hot pursuit, the pair’s screams echoing down the dorm’s halls.

Halilintar groaned and buried his face in his hands, falling back to lean on his seat. It’s barely been a month into their second year, and he already regretted joining this circus four times. 

Since moving to Kuala Lumpur for his education, he hadn’t expected much. He was here to find a degree, a job with a stable income and housing. Most of which were achievable alone, with the occasional groupmate in university or the odd coworker down the line. He’d settle for a quiet job with just enough that he can comfortably afford the occasional splurge.

It was more than what he could ask for, anyways. He was already fortunate enough to find a university that accepted his subpar grades. (To absolutely no one’s surprise, spending the majority of your life in a hospital never knowing if you’re going to walk again did little for his academics, who knew.)

Beside him, Thunderstorm reached over, grabbed a handful of sour cream chips and shoved them into her mouth. Halilintar couldn’t even find the energy to berate her, mirroring her lethargy as they shoveled chip after chip into their waiting orifices.

“What reference did you use for the introduction,” Thunderstorm groused, wiping grease and chip dust on her crimson top. “The only ones I’m finding are articles from 1978.”

Halilintar flicked his gaze back to his own laptop, scrolling up to the first paragraph for the citation.

“Bennett, P. D., 1988,” he read aloud. “Marketing.”

Thunderstorm leaned over, frowning. “Marketing what?”

“Marketing,” Halilintar repeated. “That’s all. That’s the name of the book.”

Thunderstorm threw her hands up and leaned back on the plastic chair. It was this moment that Quake kicked the door wide open, revealing Solar in a fireman’s carry across his shoulders.

Solar pried himself from Quake’s hold, landing on his feet. He crouched down, wrapped his arms around the other’s waist, and slammed him backwards into the floor in a German suplex. Quake’s earphones miraculously remained resting on his neck, not a wire out of place. (Top 10 mysteries humanity will never solve, just a little below how Solar’s glasses managed to stay on his face.)

“Guys, what’s the cutoff date for references again?” she called, completely ignoring their scuffle. “2010? 2012?”

“2014,” Solar wheezed, kicking wildly while trying to fend off Quake’s grabby hands. 

Halilintar and Thunderstorm went through the (very small) list of citations they gathered.

“Shit,” Halilintar cursed, running a hand through his hair. “There goes half our references.”

Thunderstorm grimaced. “What are the chances of them accepting one from 1954?”

“As much as the English telling Malaysia to berdikari in 1954.”

“Hardy har. I’m going to berdikari from this stupid assignment.”

From under the table, Halilintar hooked his ankle around the leg of Thunderstorm’s rickety chair, and pulled them both down with a grace that would have most ballerinas sobbing in their half-broken pointe shoes. She landed flat on her back, but hardly flinched as she laid betrayed on the floor, still holding a broken chip in her fingers.

Halilintar didn’t even blink when she kicked out the legs of his own chair. But unlike her, he had anticipated this, so he ended up in a half-squat in the air with said chair swiped out from under him. 

Quake and Solar stopped their fight and turned to stare at them. Halilintar stared right back, never breaking eye contact, even when Thunderstorm kicked him again in the back of his knees, forcing him to stumble into the tables.

Quake let go of Solar’s hair and dove for their falling laptops and drink, successfully saving the devices but not Halilintar’s can of juice. It toppled on the ground and splattered orange with an intensity comparable to when lead is pumped into one’s skull.

Nobody spoke for a good minute. All four adults remained lying on the floor in unique positions, mourning the loss of time, their sanity, and common sense when put in a room together. Eventually they gathered themselves and tidied Quake and Halilintar’s shared dorm, never breathing a word of what had transpired.

At the end of the cleanup, they huddled around Solar’s laptop to check on their group assignment. They had spent nearly four hours after class brainstorming content for their report, so surely some progress must be made? Solar clicked into the Google Document, expecting unholy tirades and grammar mistakes, only to find—

The

That’s it. 

“The” laid innocently on the blank sheet they called the fruits of their labor, and boy were they reaping what their foolishness had sown. Halilintar looked at the screen, to his watch that read 6:53PM, then to his grumbling stomach making its unrest known in their astounded silence.

Solar massaged his temples. “We were supposed to finish the skeleton before the holidays,” he groused, glancing at the packed luggage on Halilintar’s bed. “Any chance you could stay until we finish this blasted paper?”

Thunderstorm perked up. “When was that again?”

“Tomorrow, you infernal orangutan!”

“We can discuss it over calls, can’t we?” Halilintar pointed out, apathetic. 

“It’s the spirit of things,” Solar debated. “If I have to suffer through their tomfoolery, so do you.”

“It’s a week. Seven days, not seven years. You’ll survive.”

“With my sanity intact? Doubtfully.” Solar adjusted his glasses, sighing. “Are you sure you can’t stay? You never enjoy your visits. Perhaps your guardian can make an exception just for this year...”

Halilintar reached over and slammed the laptop shut, much to Solar’s dismay. “Food,” he deadpanned, fishing out his car keys from his pockets. “Last one to the car pays.”

He sprinted out the door before anyone could get their bearings. His brother from another mother (Quake) and sister from another mister (Thunderstorm) blinked once, twice, then followed him out in record speed. Solar (the family dog) sputtered and protested loudly, poking his head out of the dorm’s halls to scream at them for their piss poor security and honors.

(It was easy to understand why they weren’t exactly the most favored group of friends in this dorm.)

In his infinite wisdom, Halilintar had completely forgotten about his luggage. 

The four ended up dragging their feet back to the dorm, haul exactly 1 carryon bag and 1 suitcase down the stairs and shoved it in the back of the car. Immediately, Solar slid into the passenger seat and the siblings at the back.

He wasn’t looking forward to the six-hour drive to Rintis after dinner. He never fared well with sitting in one place for long, although it came with the upside of not having to listen to Quake’s playlist of death metal and only death metal for that time.

“Let’s go Sushi King,” Thunderstorm suggested from the backseat of the car, doom scrolling Instagram for the Nth time. “I’m in the mood for some salmon.”

“We had Sushi Zanmai just two days ago,” Halilintar groused, eyeing the approaching traffic light ahead. He cursed under his breath as it turned orange, forcing him to switch pedals to slow down. “How we haven’t ended up with parasites yet is beyond me.” He glared at her from the rearview mirror. “Do you want to get thrown out of the car? Buckle your seatbelt.”

“DBKL fines are also getting expensive,” Quake chimed in. 

Solar snapped his fingers to get Halilintar’s attention like he was a butler. “Take the first left coming up.”

“It’s fine.” Halilintar glowered at the nepo baby on his left. “Solar can pay it.”

“Yes, only because I take pity on your literal and metaphorical poor souls.”

“Another word about Solar’s money and I’m kicking you two off the highway,” Quake declared, stopping at the red light and turning to them with a glare. “You can walk the rest of the way in the dark.”

“It’s our car,” Solar and Halilintar chorused. 

“I’m driving it,” Halilintar added for good measure.

He rested his hand on the gear, shifting it into neutral—

A robotic fist smashed through the windshield, sending glass shards flying. Halilintar snapped up amongst Solar’s screaming, eyes widening as he caught a full view of the attacker: a humanoid robot, covered in rusted and dented plates for skin, wielding a misshapen bow in its free arm.

Around them, other cars blared and sped away, afraid for their own lives and the unknown. The four could only press themselves deeper into their own leather seats, breaths shallow as the robot retracted its arm, raising to its full height on the hood.

Halilintar’s gaze flicked to Solar, who, like him, had shards of glass dusting his hair and clothing. He didn’t seem to be suffering from any visible injuries. Through the reflection of the rearview mirror, he saw Thunderstorm and Quake tense but shielded from the worst, their knuckles white from how hard they were clenching them.

It was fortunate that the initial strike seemed to be more for shock factor than anything else, which only raised the question as to why. Can robots be preprogrammed with the intent for non-lethal intimidation before the actual blow?

Halilintar shifted slightly in his seat to get a better view of the android. The dark of the night and the choppy streetlight hardly did his sight justice, and as he tilted his head through the hanging pieces of glass, he saw a pair of glowing red eyes.

And sparks of electricity all over its body.

“T-T-Ta- Fan,” it chanted. “I have- systems reaching critical failure- have- come for- for rev- revenge.”

Halilintar’s first thought was, It’s already damaged?

His second was, “How screwed are we?”

Solar swallowed. “We’re loose screws and the android’s paid by the hour.”

Oh, crud.

The android’s head snapped to the sound of their voices. Halilintar slapped his hand over his mouth and pinched Solar’s elbow. 

“Pre- pare- to- die.”

It nocked its bow and pointed it to them, arrow tip burning orange. 

Halilintar’s mind raced. That did not look good—anything sharp, burning or looking vaguely like an explosive pointed to them was never good. The distance between them was short, but he doubted distance mattered and it was glowing like a radioactive cheese puff.

Frantic, he looked for anything around them that might be of help, but they were all strapped to their seatbelts and they were directly next to the highway’s guard rails. Even if the arrow needed charging, there was little chance the robot wouldn’t just release it when they so much as open the car door.

Halilintar’s head spun. Instinctively, he reached for the chain around his neck, hand resting on the cool piece hidden in his shirt—

Solar shoved him, snapping him out of his stupor. His eyes wildly flicked to the rearview mirror, as if gesturing for him to look. Halilintar did look, and he saw Thunderstorm buckling herself in, and he thought ‘oh now you’re listening—’

Oh. Oh.

A split second before the bowstring snapped, Halilintar slammed his foot into the gas. The robot, clearly taken by surprise, stumbled and misfired the arrow, sending it harmlessly into the river below. However, it tripped and fell directly on the broken windshield, its body obscuring Halilintar’s view and forcing him to slow down. 

Solar shrieked. “ARE YOU MENTAL—!?”

“SHUT UP,” Halilintar roared.

He jerked his hands sideways, forcing the car to swerve. The sudden change in momentum causing it to glide off the car hood, but it clung onto the wipers in the nick of time. Solar held onto the sides of his seat and kicked wildly at the robot’s hands, snapping the wipers in half and sending the robot careening into the road.

Halilintar stabilized the wheel and created distance between them and the twitching android. Once they had a clear sight of it, he didn’t hesitate to run the vehicle directly into him, just to add insult to injury. It bounced off the hood once, twice, then he slowly drove the entire car over its body. 

The car tilted as it settled firmly atop the damaged android, hearts racing as it shook violently as it struggled to regain its footing. They were this close to praying to the gods when the shaking stopped, followed by a deactivating whine.

“Well,” Halilintar had the audacity to comment, “that could have gone a lot worse.”

His airbag activated and slammed his head into the backrest. 

Solar shrieked even louder. 

“Out,” Halilintar’s snapped through the airbag, voice muffled. “Now.” 

Everyone stumbled out of their seats, brushing glass and sweat off. Solar’s hands trembled, his breaths sharp—

—with annoyance.

Solar rolled up his sleeves. “If it’s not dead I’m killing it myself,” he declared, marching towards it. “Do they think cars grow on trees?”

Halilintar, despite woozy from the airbag’s impact, easily snatched the back of Mr. Fancy Pants McGee’s collar and stopped him in his tracks. Solar turned to him, resembling a kicked puppy.

BOOM.

The car and robot went out in a literal blaze of glory, the heat of the flames scorching their skin. This was when he turned to Solar with a smug expression, transmitting the idea of ‘I told you so.’

His victory lasted only but a moment, as Halilintar’s eyes widened when he remembered his luggage was still in the hood. 

Oh. 

You have got to be kidding.

“On the bright side,” Quake said awkwardly, wincing as one of the robot’s eyeballs popped off and rolled down the road. “You’re still stuck with us?”

Halilintar spun to Quake, then back to the car, then back to Quake again.

“My laptop’s still in there!” he shrieked. “My Minecraft save files! My notes! My homework folder!”

“Is it filled with unspeakable things?” Thunderstorm asked, like the little shit she was.

“Our assignment, yes.”

“Oh, fiddlesticks.”

Halilintar resisted the urge to throttle her. 

He was suddenly grateful for the fact that the university only let them have a week off, or he would’ve lost more than just three days’ worth of underwear, the car, and his laptop. The laptop that’d stayed with him since the beginning of his IGCSEs, that he cheated off of during online exams, and told him he had fifteen different types of cancer to his face. Gone. Burst into flames. What a joke.

He would cry, except indignation far outweighed his grief and fueled his need for vengeance. He’s going to desecrate this walking piece of scrap by sending it to the nearest recycling plant that was actually a money laundering front, so no actual recycling gets done and they’ll dump it in a landfill. So not only would it become a martyr in the name of climate change, it would spend eternity lying in a pile of wasted recyclable materials knowing shamefully it would contribute to the inevitable heat death of the planet. Checkmate.

“A minor setback,” Solar comforted him, patting his shoulder. “I will have my butler place the order for the newest model in a minute.”

Halilintar nodded, all too used to Solar’s extravagant displays of wealth. “Does it come in black?”

A pause. “I don’t know,” he confessed. “It does now, if that’s what you want.”

Thunderstorm and Quake regarded them what an expression that could only be described as disgust and confusion. Halilintar never understood why they were always so put off when he and Solar spent time together – that’s just how Solar behaved. Something about money, they once said, but didn’t elaborate further.

“What do we do now?” Quake grumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “Do we wait for the police, or...”

“I would like to remind everyone this is the perfect opportunity to fake our deaths and lead new lives,” Solar announced. He was ignored. “... No? Fine, I’ll call my chauffeur. We’ll get dinner in Din Tai Fung, dessert in Llaollao, then drive Halilintar back to his hometown. Does anyone have any objections?”

“That’s expen—”

“We deserve the treat and three full-body massages. Should I have someone send necessities over as well?”

Thunderstorm clamped her hands on both of Solar’s shoulders, her glare promising death. She then shook him so hard that if he were any younger, she’d be giving him rattled baby syndrome. 

“You and your money,” she hissed, eye twitching. “What will you do without them, really?”

“Have my father send me another credit card, naturally.”

“Well, I’m not dragging all of you to Rintis, it’ll take too long,” Halilintar cut in as Thunderstorm released Solar from her death grip. “It’s fine, I’ll just bring some spare clothes from the dorm and take the train.”

“Trains are nice,” Quake agreed. 

“The train,” Solar blanched.

“Squished up against random strangers you don’t know? Did the airbag hit you instead?” Thunderstorm squawked.

“Do you want to sit in a car for 15 hours?” Halilintar glowered. “Don’t forget, you guys need to make the return trip as well. And there’s going to be nothing but roads and trees for at least 12 of them.”

“What makes you think we—”

Solar jabbed his elbow into her ribs, shutting her up. She spun to him, head tilting downwards because of his shorter stature and they exchanged a look. They turned to Quake, who blinked twice before mirroring their expression.

Solar spoke first, rubbing his hands together: “My boy, the best friend I’ve ever had, the reason I want to swallow a smoking hot barrel every morning, my brother from another donor—” A fake cough. “I am not letting you subject yourself to mediocrity that is public transport for five minutes, let alone a day. Which is why...”

...

...

“YOU GOT ME A WHA—”

As he’s haphazardly throwing together a reasonable set of necessities for his trip, Halilintar paused to bask in the sound that was his friends’ bickering.

“We’re not watching B-Daman again,” Solar seethed, wrenching the mouse away from Thunderstorm’s hand. “I’ve had it with your whining every time the main character goes into a monologue for half the episode!”

“It’s a good show, you just have no taste!” Thunderstorm lunged at him. “It’s far better than the plastic ninja! Doesn’t that one ice guy explode into pieces like, 5 times now?”

“HOW DARE YOU? TAKE THAT BACK!” A pause. “PUT SOME RESPECT ON ZANE’S NAME, WOMAN.”

“Guys,” Quake said placatingly, raising his hands, “how about a compromise? Something we can all agree on.”

“Not Kaitou Joker,” the pair echoed instantly.

Quake sighed. “I tried.”

Halilintar tuned them all out, shoving another old shirt in his backpack. He’ll have to get more toiletries when he’s back, but for now this would have to do.

He jumped when Solar threw himself on him, grabbing his shoulders and spinning him around as a meat shield against the siblings. “Ninjago is the superior option!” he snapped, shaking Halilintar. “Tell them, ’Tar! Prove me right!”

Quake brandished a pillow menacingly. “What are you, a coward? Stop hiding behind Hali! We all know he’ll choose Ejen Ali.”

Halilintar shrugged. “It’s a good show.”

“It’s a kid’s show!” Thunderstorm wailed.

“SO IS YOURS, ASSWIPE,” Solar howled.

“They’re all kid shows...” Quake mourned.

Solar pushed Halilintar away like he was last week’s news, throwing himself into another debate about the qualifications of a ‘good and worthwhile show’ against them. Halilintar took the exit and returned to packing, sneaking glances at the three, where Thunderstorm had Quake in a headlock after he insulted her show’s animation quality.

Halilintar didn’t fight the smile tugging in the corners of his lips.

Maybe, just maybe, one day he can feel like a full person.

Chapter Text

It took all of Halilintar’s restraint to stop himself from squirming.

He was never the best in the interpersonal skills department, and his communication competence left much to be desired, so despite his friends’ best efforts to socialize him with the rest of society, he was hopeless. 

Especially when two strangers called to him like they’d known each other since they were in diapers, then getting clung onto like a tree. He may be socially inept, but he was also dead certain people don’t climb on each other as a first greeting. Not a great first impression, unless you were 1 years old and way too trusting for your own good. Even then, there was a bloody thin line between adoring blubbery and blatant harassment, and this guy just backflipped over the edge like a circus attraction.

For a tense moment, nobody spoke.

The brunet, with gold tips in his hair and eyes, stared at him with complete and utter devastation, lips pressed into a thin white line. He was wearing a shirt a size too small for him, the fabric pulled taut across his torso. He studied Halilintar’s body, eyes narrowed like he was trying to catch him in a lie.

Beside him, the man who threw himself at him had black hair with dark blue roots, eyes colored sky blue. He was dressed like a skater had tripped himself into the clearance section of a monochromatic paint store, splattering his clothes with whites and blues and grays. He was tenser than his companion, and no less apprehensive.

Halilintar was under no illusion that they were regular civilians. Even if their unusual features had not given them away, the aura they gave off was unmistakable. If he had to describe it, he would think Goldie smelled of fresh earth after the rain, whilst the other felt like a summer breeze. 

Were they somehow related to the robot that destroyed the car? That tried to blow them up with a bow and arrow, of all things?

He really, really wished Solar was here. For all of Halilintar’s snark, it was solely reserved for him. If only he were here, he could lend some of his courage and speak his mind. He felt naked and unstable without him, his anchor too far from reach.

They looked at him like they wanted an explanation. Instead, he swallowed bitter saliva and stepped past them, putting himself between Ais and the two.

“They didn’t give you any trouble, did they?” he asked, ignoring their looks of betrayal. 

Halilintar couldn’t read people as well as Solar, who seemed to know what they were thinking based off a glance alone. But he knew something must be invoking that deep-rooted, incomprehensible confusion on their faces.

He didn’t know what it could be or why he was the subject of their anguish. All they were doing was making him more uncomfortable than he already was.

“Don’t know,” Ais said listlessly, deeply disturbed. “I think I’m sick. I saw them flying.”

Halilintar pressed the back of his hand to Ais’s forehead. He felt sweat, acne but otherwise a perfectly normal temperature for someone living in the equator. 

“Did Blaze hit you on the head?”

“I fell off my bed this morning, if that counts.”

“We’re still right here, you know,” snapped Skater Boy. “Come on Hali, you got us good. Joke’s over, okay? You’re not still mad, are you?”

Halilintar turned back to him, frowning. 

“Mad about what?” he asked back, confusion piling. “Look, I—” His face burned. “I think you’ve got the wrong person, okay? I’ve never spoken to you before today.”

Goldie grimaced. “Oh, god, it’s worse than I thought,” he groused. “Did your amnesia flare up again? Should you be driving in this condition?”

Halilintar gaped, planting his hands on his hips. “Are you—are you trying to gaslight me?” he demanded, appalled. Confusion quickly morphed into indignation when he realized what they were trying to imply.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Skater Boy asked, actually concerned. Why would he be concerned?

“How peaceful my life was before we talked.”

Skater Boy and Goldie exchanged a look. Halilintar used this opportunity to hop on and restart his bike. His drink can wait another time.

Goldie was suddenly in front of him, blocking his way with his body. Is he insane?!

“W-wait!” he stammered. “Listen! I know you’re confused—”

“Oh my god—”

“But you have to remember!” he continued, ignoring him. “I’m Gempa, that’s Taufan and you’re Halilintar. Does that ring a bell?”

“What even are you— Why do you know my—”

Taufan?

Now that was familiar.

(“T-T-Ta- Fan,” it chanted. “I have- systems reaching critical failure- have- come for- for rev- revenge.”

Halilintar’s first thought was, It’s already damaged?

His second was, “How screwed are we?”

“Yes,” Thunderstorm snipped.)

“Oh my god,” Halilintar cursed. He filed that information away for later, because that was such a massive coincidence they might just be related.

Gempa apparently took this sign as progress. “Do you remember now?”

His head throbbed as pressure began to build up behind his eyes. The pain was familiar, and all the more unwelcome for it. He hadn’t felt it since...

“Just stop, would you?”

“Stop what?”

Halilintar met his glare with one of his own, never breaking eye contact. “Stop trying to act like you know me or what’s best for me,” he hissed. “Look, you and your friend got the wrong guy.”

“No, we haven’t,” Taufan insisted. “And we’re not friends, Hali! He’s my brother—our brother.” And that’s a whole other can of worms Halilintar’s never opening. “Would you please listen? I don’t remember you being this stubborn...”

Halilintar breathed out sharply, teeth grit with frustration. It was like talking to a brick wall.

“We can prove it to you,” Gempa said. “We’ll go find Tok—you remember Tok, right?—and he can vouch for what we’re saying.”

Halilintar’s blank expression told them all they needed to know.

Now Taufan was alarmed. “Tok? Tok Aba? Our grandfather, who raised us since... forever?”

“No,” Halilintar said slowly, sympathy bubbling in his chest not for their insistence, but their delusion that led them to think he’s the one they’re looking for. “No, I don’t know who that is.”

Their faces fell. They looked like kicked puppies.

Halilintar suddenly felt like a douchebag. These guys obviously weren’t from around here, judging from their luggage, clothes and their behavior. But he was under no delusion that they were harmless – something felt off about them, like they were only wearing skin to appear human. To blend in and failing.

“I’m telling you that you got the wrong person,” he continued awkwardly, powering down his bike so he was balancing it on one leg. “I don’t live here. I’m only visiting for the semester break.”

Gempa frowned. “You... don’t?”

“But the Kokotiam,” Taufan pointed out. “Who was that? Ais? Is he an employee? Tok owns the stall. Didn’t you get it from him?”

“The stall?” Halilintar quizzed. “I just like the mocha. I don’t- I- I didn’t get anything from anyone.”

Their faces scrunched up in unison as they digested his response. Where on Earth are they getting all this information? And why are they choosing to torment him?

“Where are you staying now, then?” Gempa quizzed, totally not believing anything he said. Great... “If you’re visiting, where...?”

Gempa’s eyes trailed over his shoulder and turned white as a sheet. Taufan followed him and also turned ghost white.

Halilintar fiddled with the handles of his bike, squirming in discomfort.

“W-where’s the house?” Taufan demanded, eyes wide in alarm.

Halilintar finally turned to look over his shoulder. What he saw only confused him more and worried him about their mental stability.

“House?” he asked, glancing at the patch land overrun by weeds and rusting steel beams. “What house?”