It was almost dawn when the boat that Perfecto Peralta stole from the tulisanes reached the still waters of the Pasig river. The odds were yet again in his favor - thanks to the two meddlesome Civil Guards that stalled Pedro's band for a surprisingly considerable amount of time. It was another successful mission, he thought to himself - but his weary eyes tell a different story.

His gaze, watching the vast horizon of the river, slowly panned towards the unconscious youth stowed away on the other side of the boat-hidden beneath the stack of ropes and nets, with a crate of rifles stacked with the lot. He pondered for a while as he examined the youth's features.

"Small world, huh?" he muttered to himself, raising his head to the sky. "Well, a promise is a promise. You saved my life once. You better call us even after this."

As he paddled further into the river, rowing towards one of the boat docks in Sta. Mesa, he was startled by a sudden groan beneath the nets.

"Good morning! About time you woke up!" Peralta declared, rowing gently down the river.

"Ughh..." Francisco groaned. "Well, you hit me really hard. Are these bonds really necessary?" he complained.

"Caution, my boy." Peralta replied briefly. "Just be thankful that I was kind enough to spare you."

"Oh. Well, thank you, kind sir." Francisco replied in a sarcastic tone.

"We'll be approaching the docks, and I need to talk to somebody there." Peralta exclaimed in a calm voice. "For your own good, I need you to shut up and allow me to do the talking. Am I understood?"

"If it helps me to keep my head, then sure." Francisco answered. "What's the deal, anyway?"

"You don't want to provoke my employer." the man answered.

"All right. Suure."

"You're a feisty one for someone within shooting distance, I'll give you that." Peralta sneered. "It gives me the impression that this is not the first time you got into tangles such as this."

"And you're too kind for a hostage-taker." Francisco responded with a snicker. "Which gives me the impression that this is your first time doing this."

"Indeed." the man agreed. "Because I usually shoot witnesses on sight. So don't test me, boy."

"Truly? Why spare me, then?" the youth asked. "And use a mask next time so you won't have to go around shooting witnesses, will you."

"I never needed a mask because I usually shoot my witnesses on sight, and very often my witnesses are usually syndicate members. I don't kill innocent civilians. You were just stupid enough to run into me last night." Peralta replied.

"Bosh!" the young man retorted. "You expect me to believe such nonsense? I've had run-ins with your ilk in Tondo. You want me to think that you're a vigilante? Pshaw! More like a bounty hunter."

"How so? You think that I have a bounty to collect for your head?! Dream on, boy!" Peralta gave a short chuckle. "You have a long way to go before that day comes, lad."

"You could have just easily pulled the trigger when you found me last night to save you the trouble of...this, yet you didn't." the young man. "How come?"

"So? You think I'm soft, is that it?" Peralta answered in a stern tone.

"No." the young man replied. "But I'm thinking...you need something from me, don't you? That's why you can't kill me."

"And what would I need from you? I just picked you off the street, boy!" the old man sneered. "Yes, I could have just killed you that night. But professionals have standards. There's no glory in killing unarmed civilians."

"Bosh! Nonsense! You expect me to believe that you're keeping me alive out of the goodness of your heart?! I don't suppose you were sent by Morales to collect his money, hmm?"

"Who in the world is Morales?" answered Peralta, who looked genuinely confused at this accusation.

"No? Hmm. Perhaps Don Custodio? Surely it's he who sent you!" the youth accused once more.

"You owe money to that oaf?" Peralta replied with an amused tone, his face even more puzzled.

"N-no. I just thought that you knew...because...I usually visited-y-you know what, never mind. I've said too much." the young man reconsidered.

The boatman was quiet for a moment, and then his eyes suddenly widened after a realization dawned upon him, and then broke out into sudden laughter.

"What's so funny?" Francisco asked, who was answered by the boatman with more laughter.

"You've been secretly visiting Don Custodio's flame, aren't you?! Pepay, isn't it?! For a seemingly tame university student such as yourself, I wouldn't have expected you to have the audacity of a tulisan. You had my interest at first, but now you have my attention."

"H-how in the world did you know-"

"Boy, everyone who has stayed long enough in Intramuros knows that those two had an affair going on. It's just that people are wise enough to shut up to keep their heads." the boatman replied with an amused smile. "Even that birdbrain Ben-Zayb from El Grito knows when to keep quiet. You're brave, I'll give you that much, but quite reckless as well. It's a wonder you're still alive."

"It's...a guilty pleasure of mine, I'll admit." the young man answered. "I may be reckless, old man, but I'm not stupid."

"Oh, are you now?" the boatman sarcastically replied. "Not stupid, eh? How are you feeling back there, by the way? Those bonds seem really comfortable."

"Stop mocking me. I was just at the wrong place at the wrong time, that's all." the youth replied.

"Oh, were you?" Peralta asked. "Stupid people are reckless people, boy. You can't be one without the other. You were strolling along one of the most dangerous parts of town in the middle of the night, in the midst of a raid of a band of tulisanes. What is it that's so important that you'd risk your life on the streets?"

"I told you. I was about to go home." Francisco lied.

"You're not fooling anyone, boy. You know that I did not buy into that story the last time."

"That's the truth! And why is this important, by the way? Is it not sufficient that I'm not bearing any narcotics with me? You said so yourself." the youth replied.

"I did." the man replied. "But I'm going to cut you loose now, boy. However, I need to know if I can trust you. I need to know the truth. You would want to get out of those bonds, won't you?"

"About time." Francisco muttered to himself.

"What was that, boy?"

"I mean yes! Of course I do sir! My back hurts so bad."

"Then I need you to answer some questions, lad. Truthfully." Peralta replied. "So, what happened that night? Why were you roaming around Calle Cabildo?"

"Well...I don't think 'roaming' is the finest word to describe it, sir. I had to go there to avoid the tulisanes!" Francisco replied, "You see sir, I am a student of Arts and Trades, and...we usually take our classes at night, and like what I've said, I was about to go home when you found me. My parents are old, sir, which is why I needed to hurry home to look after them, especially since a band of tulisanes were rampaging inside Intramuros."

"Your...parents? Huh...interesting." the boatman commented.

"You don't seem convinced, sir. I swear, I'm telling the truth!" Francisco complained, wriggling heavily in his compartment.

"Of course you are." the boatman parried. "You're not protecting someone, are you?"

"What are you trying to imply? Do I look like I am in league with some cheap Chinese syndicate?" the youth impatiently replied.

"I did not say anything. But are you?"

"No! Of...of course not!" Francisco protested with disgust. "I told you what you want to know. Now, please, get me out of these bonds."

"It intrigues me that you know something about the Chinese syndicates. Not everybody knows about their dealings, let alone their existence. Something tells me that you're not telling me everything you know."

Francisco sighed, paused for a few seconds to consider his words before answering again.

"All right...since you seemed so adamant to know everything, I'll tell you what I know." Francisco finally conceded. "I work for a journalist named Mauricio Vidañez. I get paid to feed him information about the goings-on in the towns, especially around Tondo. That's how I know about the Chinese. But I swear with my life that I have nothing to do with those bastards!"

"Ahh, so you're his informant...and a good one at that, too. So that's why Vidañez's articles are very...conclusive. Anyway, thank you for cooperating, lad."

"Where are you taking me, anyway?" the young man asked.

"You'll see. It won't be long." the boatman answered, paddling his way towards the small stretch of water, closing in on the docks.

"I'm not supposing you're planning to dump me in the river?" Francisco exclaimed.

"Boy, if that was my plan all along, it would have been simpler to just shoot you last night and be done with it. There's literally nothing stopping me from doing so aside from the fact that you're just an unfortunate passer-by." the boatman replied.

"Ohh...yes...right. Point taken." Francisco conceded. "You know, all things considered, if we have met under better circumstances, I'd perhaps mistake you for my godfather. My long...lost...godfather."

"By the heavens, no. I'd definitely disown you several times over if that is even possible." Peralta replied with disgust.

Peralta then set aside the paddle for a while, unsheathed his bolo, and slid it in the small gap between Francisco's wrists - and in a swift but careful sawing motion, he cut the young man's rope. Francisco, upon being freed, eagerly stretched his arms and legs.

"About time." Francisco remarked, soothing his wrists.

"Lad." Peralta called out. "Look there. You see those two affluent-looking gentlemen by the docks? One with a bowler hat and one with a cane?"

"Yes." he answered. "What about them?"

"They're my associates. Speak to none of them, you understand?"

"Aye." the young man affirmed. "But I need to know-"

Francisco was about to utter his words when he felt the boat clashing mildly with the wooden platform of the docks. That was his cue. The old man expressly forbade him to say anything once they reach dry land, and so he shall.

"Took you long enough, eh Peralta." one of the men on the docks exclaimed.

"Got into a bit of a tangle. But it is done." Peralta replied.

"And your proof?" the man with a bowler hat asked.

"The papers today will be identifying the bodies. I'm sure Diario de Manila will be releasing their story shortly. No need for physical proof." Peralta calmly replied.

"I see. Then as per the club's rules, we'll be docking your pay until the kill is confirmed. Do you have any questions?" the man replied in a very astute fashion.

"None, thank you. Perhaps I'll take it up to Cristina once I get back." Peralta answered.

"Very well. Oh, and by the way..." the affluent man interjected. "Who's the quiet fellow you have there with you, Peralta? I believe we haven't been introduced."

Francisco has had his head down throughout the entire exchange that has transpired, keeping to himself just as he was instructed to do. Therefore, it came as a surprise for Francisco when the affluent man decided to reach out and shake the young man's hand.

"Ahh, he's...an associate of mine." Peralta quickly replied.

"Is that true, young man?" the affluent man asked.

Francisco wasn't able to reply for a few seconds, for he was awe-stricken, not knowing what to say. He is now in the presence of a syndicate leader, he thought to himself. He was never expecting this to happen, he looked at Peralta, and his face was saying the same.

"I'm talking to you, boy." the affluent man called out. "Is what Peralta saying is true?"

"Boy, say something." nudged Peralta, who was rather nervous as he tapped the young man's shoulder.

"O-ohh...uhh...me?" the young man finally replied.

"Yes, boy! You! Who else is here?" the affluent man answered, annoyed at the young man's response.

"Oh, I, uhh...yes, sir. That is true." Francisco replied nervously.

"You don't seem too sure, lad." the affluent man suspiciously commented.

"Oh, uhh...pardon me, sir. I was just...I can't believe it." Francisco replied apologetically.

"Can't believe what?" the man in the bowler hat asked, looking rather confused. Peralta looked at Francisco nervously.

"Oh, uh, pardon me. I...I was getting ahead of myself." Francisco replied rather enthusiastically as he, in a surprising turn of events, stretched out his hand to shake the man's hand."Allow men to introduce myself. My name is Julio Perez. I have been working as an informant for Señor Peralta for quite some time now. I...I'm just...thrilled to tell you that my client's last hit was my greatest work yet."

"Ahh, I see Peralta has found a man of skill." the man praised, shaking Francisco's hand. "My employer would be delighted to know that we have someone like you on our payroll, Señor Julio. If you ever need a contract, you know where to go." the affluent man remarked, visibly delighted by Francisco's kind of 'professional service'.

"S-splendid. I'll keep in touch." Francisco answered with forced delight.

"Well then, we need to be off. Business calls elsewhere. We'll be seeing you soon, Señor Perez." the affluent man remarked as he withdrew his hand and walked away with his partner, heading towards a black carriage parked at the sidewalks of the street.

As soon as the two men were clear of the premises, Francisco gave a huge sigh of relief. Rightfully so, as he just pulled off a very colossal lie.

"That was some snappy thinking, boy." Peralta commended. "I never expected you to ride it out smoothly, but you managed. However, I've got some bad news."

"How could this possibly go worse?" Francisco sighed. "Who are those men, by the way?"

"We call them 'Supervisors'. They oversee every job that people of my...profession take. To tell you the truth...that last job...was a very complicated one, to put it lightly. Saying those men were impressed by your...work...would be a gross understatement." Peralta cautiously replied. "They were astounded, boy. You sold your story quite perfectly."

"And...is that a bad thing?" the young man inquired.

"Yes." Peralta hesitantly answered. "Because from this day forward...

...you're in this shit now."