It was like COVID-19 never happened. After the government removed the enforcement of curfew, people flocked to all public places. Everyone was once again free to go anywhere and do whatever they like. As long as they were vaccinated - no more wearing face masks and no more social distancing. Everything was back to normal. Or so they thought.

Somewhere in Metro Manila, Philippines—

A shiny blue Bentley Flying Spur pulled up, parking in front of a popular convenience store. Inside the car, the lone drive read his smartphone — He is there now. Should be alone. He checked the time — 8:28 p.m. Before getting out, he popped the trunk open.

Wearing an elegant black suit and black leather shoes, the driver moved towards the back of the car. He scanned through a golf bag and took out his 9-iron, inspecting it from its titanium head to its steel shaft and synthetic rubber grip.

Meanwhile, people have gathered around, gazing at the golfer and his car. In their mind, this was exciting because they don’t get to see expensive cars in their area quite often – not since the lockdown.

Ignoring the crowd, the golfer closed the trunk and swaggered into the store. As he stood at the counter, he scanned the menu board then the convex mirror. From there, the golfer spotted one customer seated in the dining area and two more, a young couple, in the store gondola.

“Good evening, sir,” a female cashier greeted. “May I take your order?”

Setting his 9-iron on the counter, he took out a Bluetooth speaker from his pocket and placed it right beside his golf club.

“Whoa!” The bubbly cashier inspected the device, her eyes widening. “Nice toy, mister.”

When he pulled out his phone, the cashier noticed a gold snake ring on the right pinkie of the golfer. Soon, classical music began singing out of the Bluetooth speaker. It’s Vivaldi’s Four Seasons, Spring 1st movement.

Another store employee came out from the back office, but he soon froze at the hypnotic sound of violins. In truth, the two customers at the store shelves and the female cashier had all fallen into a trance-like state. They were NUMB to their surroundings.

Only the man drinking his coffee remained unaffected. While observing the outside, the diner detected three street thugs surrounding the Bentley. “Good luck with your car, mister.”

“No worries.” The golfer strutted towards the diner. “They’re just puny small-timers.” Using his smartphone, he scanned the QR contact tracing code hanging lazily on the diner’s neck. “A little birdie told me you would be here, but I did not expect you to be alone.”

“Who are you?” the diner asked, squinting.

“Mr. Peter Espinosa, I have one question for you. Why haven’t you taken your vaccination? You don’t even have to pay for anything, thanks to Mr. Philip Hidalgo.”

“Fuck you! Who do you think you are talking to?”

“I am talking to the one and only, Jaguar.”

Jaguar gulped, finally noticing everyone else inside the store was acting like desensitized robots. He reached into his waist while the hair at the back of his neck began to stand.

Swinging his 9-iron, the golfer smashed Jaguar’s face into a bloody Picasso as red art splattered across the glass wall and dining table.

“No whiff!” the golfer said.

Jaguar mumbled while his eyes rolled back, then his head took a nosedive into the table.

“I’m going for an eagle,” the golfer announced.

Another swing shattered the back of the cranium turning the skull mountain into an erupting volcano. Blood spurted out like lava as it spread over the table and down on the floor.

“Two-under-par.” The golfer shook his fists.

With his eyes beaming, the golfer swaggered back to the counter while the mindless cashier gave him some tissue paper to wipe.

“Listen, now. You did not see anything,” the golfer instructed. “Anyway, all four of you must clean this place up. We don’t want any more contamination. Remember. That diner was infected, so throw his body outside and let the police handle it.”

The four bobbed their heads like obedient slaves.

The golfer stared at the camera above. “Where’s the CCTV?”

The two NUMB employees pointed to the back office.

Going inside the office, the golfer destroyed all traces of his visit. When he came out, something fell to the floor. “What the fuck!”

The golfer looked under the table and found a fallen pistol. Avoiding the blood, he picked the gun up. “Jaguar, you are old sneaky cunt. It’s a good thing my golf swing was faster.”

The golfer pondered for a moment, realizing he was lucky since Jaguar could have shot him earlier. After shoving the pistol back to the diner’s waist, the golfer left the store and approached his car.

The three thugs turned their attention to the classical music. One of them brandished a knife. “Give us your car key, wallet, and cell phone.”

“Obviously, you three had not been vaccinated. That’s all right. I have just the thing for you.”

Three muffled gunshots dropped the thugs to the ground with a single bullet hole on each of their foreheads. The silenced pistol went back to the shoulder holster hidden underneath the black suit.

“Listen up.” The golfer clapped his hands. “You did not see anything.”

The tranced people surrounding the car nodded.

RULF!

As the golfer entered his car and closed the door, he gazed at the empty passenger seat. “Now, you can rest in peace, Little John.” He then clasped his hand on the steering wheel as the classical music buzzed his ears like songs from heaven. The weight lifted from his chest made his soul danced with Vivaldi’s Four Seasons.

Shortly after, a phone ring interrupted him. “Yes, boss. Okay, I’m on my way.”

The Bentley cruised back into the street.