12:15 a.m., Military Chief Office ;

Ahmed Ali Fadhil. Lucas Wilson. As she looked at the way the hundreds of dead were lying upon the ground in front of MCO, each body at a distance of two meters from the other, horizontally, Rong Xinghe couldn't refrain from thinking about the two men Ashfakh Ali had mentioned before.

This was their pattern. It was Lucas Wilson's pattern. Brutal, yet, obsessed with returning the victims in an alignment. Properly. He was a 'sophisticated freak', they said in the underworld. She had seen his barbarity years ago. She had seen them both 'in-their-form', in fact.

"Military Chief, it's President Mo.", Shou Wu rushed towards the girl, covering the speaker of his phone with his hand, "He wants to speak to you."

"Not the right time, Officer.", Rong Xinghe waved her hand dismissively.

"I insist, Chief.", the old man requested, "It is important."

The girl turned to glare at her assistant, clearly agitated. As if watching her comrades, her colleagues like that, wasn't hard enough already. Eventually, she threw her hands in the air, giving in. Stretching her right hand towards the man, she borrowed his phone.

"If I am not wrong, you got married just yesterday. Don't you have plans for a honeymoon?", the girl said into the phone, her tone a mixture of both, resignation and exhaustion.

"I did. Not anymore.", Mo Zixuan replied indifferently, "Xinghe, you should check the number of journalists outside the central Military base. The media knows about the incident with the SF Officers. "

"Perfect! Just when I'd started to think things couldn't get any worse.", the girl rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. Every broadcasting media channel was informed about it.", the man sighed, "I am currently in the MZX Studio. And trust me, the situation isn't good. I suggest you conduct an official press conference, as soon as possible, before the public prompts outrageous protests. Alright?"

"Right. Okay."

____________________

12:30 a.m., Elite Saphire Penthouse ;

"Will you be okay, Xinghe?", Xi Yuan asked, his voice laced with concern, "Should I come there?"

"No, Yuan. I am used to this.", Rong Xinghe took in a deep breath, trying to gather herself together, "I called to apologize to you, actually. I shouldn't have left without informing you. I am sorry."

"Rong Xinghe might be my to-be-wife. But Military Chief of this country is accountable to no one.", the man laughed, softly and heartily, "I repeat. No one. It's alright, Baby.

"Don't be so hard on yourself. I love you."

"I love you too.", the girl smiled, relieved.

Rong Xinghe had just hung up the phone when Huang Ling knocked onto the door, leaning against it leisurely. "When do you want me to schedule the conference?"

"8:00 a.m.", Rong Xinghe stated, "Military Protocols. The Military Chief, cannot address the public, at such odd timings.

"Also, I don't feel like talking to a bunch of drunkards and drug addicts at this time of night."

"Since when does the Ripper abide by the rules, huh?", the man chuckled, grabbing a seat opposite to the girl, for himself.

"Tomorrow is Central Ministry Elections, damn it!", the girl ignored the man's words, "This is all so messed up. God!"

"Xinghe, Country X will get past this. That should be of our least concern right now, you know?", Ashfakh looked straight into the girl's eyes. "Can we discuss important matters, please?"

"I just don't understand. Ever since the1996 Parliament Attacks, by Ahmed Fadhil, and the 2008 Bombings, orchestrated by Lucas Wilson, they've been on a run. I've been trying to hunt them down since the day I became Military Chief.", the girl tapped the edge of her table, shoving the documents in front of her away.

"And now, out of nowhere, those two show up. Together. Acting all 'brother from another mother'. They would've been smart to shoot the guns from the dark, keeping their identities anonymous. But instead, they revealed themselves. I just can't shake off the feeling that we're missing something important. Some very critical detail."

Ahmed Ali Fadhil was once the founder of the dreaded terrorist organization 'Lashkar ul-Mujahidin'. Lucas Wilson was no less. A domestic American terrorist. Once an LA native, Lucas had been involved in drug smuggling. Eventually, the man walked away from his hometown, when he found himself in a dead-end. It was too dangerous to survive in the city then.

Both the men had a reputation for their ruthlessness. They were crafty. Not even the best in the Armies could track them down, for years. And yet, they had walked in into their nation, crushing their most vigilant and strong army-men, as if their lives, their families meant nothing. It made no sense!

"What do you want us to do then?", Huang Ling stepped into the girl's office, unbuttoning his suit, "You see, I have some information you might not like."

"What is it?", Rong Xinghe furrowed her brows. She wasn't sure how many 'unlikeable' things she could handle in one day anymore.

"Rong Yufan happens to have met both, Ahmed Ali Fadhil, and Lucas Wilson, not too long ago.", the man smirked, "We seem to have a traitor, a militant to deal with, Alpha."

_________________

Meanwhile, In the outskirts of City A, Country X ;

"Please kill me!", the man yelled, wincing in pain as the man who had captured him and his mates minutes ago, stumbled towards him lazily. As he chugged his bottle of Whiskey, his other hand was wrapped around another bottle. A glass bottle. Presumably, water.

"I will. Promise.", the young man grinned, raising his Whiskey towards him, "What's the rush though? When you and your lovely little friends delivered the hundreds of dead bodies in front of Military Chief Office earlier, you weren't even a tad-bit apprehensive doing it.

"Let me have my fun now, would you?"

A few seconds later, the man lifted the other hand and downed the entire liquid upon the man. To the man's unfortunate, it wasn't water, but concentrated sulphuric acid. As the sweltering thing ran down the man's bare skin, he shrieked and screamed, with a pain that was immensely horrendous. A pain, that was excruciating beyond words. Torturously unexplainable.

With both hands chained, the man cried, yelled, struggled, and begged, but the other man was in no mood for any mirth, whatsoever. As he said earlier, he was having his fun.

"David!", at this time, another man walked in, wiping his blood-stained hands with a hand towel, sweat dripping down his forehead and arms, "Why do you have to so dramatic, every time? Just get it over with, man! We have a Military Chief to report to."

"It's not my fault that I am a Military Hybrid, Shawn.", David Florence squinted his eyes devilishly at the man, "We were trained to be dramatic, Brother."