Jake had always done exactly as he was told.From the moment he could walk, Oliver had shaped him like a blade—sharpened his mind, hardened his body, stripped him of anything weak. And he had obeyed. He had followed orders. He had killed. He had smiled when Oliver wanted him to smile, knelt when Oliver wanted him to kneel, and suffered when Oliver wanted him to suffer. Because that was what a son was supposed to do.He was not loved.He was not special.He was a project. A tool. A thing to be possessed and used.Jake learned early that love was something you had to earn. That it wasn’t given freely. That if he did everything Oliver asked—if he followed the rules, if he never mess up or doubt, if he obeyed—maybe then he would hear something kind. Maybe then his father would look at him like he mattered. Maybe his father would look at him with love.So he obeyed.The first time Oliver threw him into a fight, Jake was seven. Small, underfed, shaking. His opponent was older—twelve, bigger
Jake’s resentment festered like an untreated wound.For years, he swallowed the bitterness, forced himself to held his head high in front of Oliver, forced himself to play the loyal unambitious son, even as something in him curdled and rotted with every passing day.He should’ve given up. He should’ve accepted it. Raja became Oliver’s favorite. Raja became the chosen one. Raja was the one who mattered.But Jake wasn’t built to accept. He wasn’t built to be cast aside. He was trained for survival. So if Oliver didn’t see him as his son—Then Jake would make sure Oliver had nothing left to see at all. If he couldn’t be Oliver’s greatest creation, he would be his greatest failure.However, that alone wasn’t enough to burn Oliver’s empire to the ground. Being a disgrace would only give a little to no impact towards Oliver and the organization. No—Jake wanted to carve it apart, piece by piece, while Oliver was still alive to witness it crumble.And so, he planned.He started with Victor.
Back to the present.The air smelled strongly of blood. It soaked the concrete of the building, pooling around the bodies of Jake’s men, their throats slit, skulls broken, guts spilling out onto the floor. Raja stood among the massacre with his chest heaving and sweat mixing with the splattered blood that coated his skin. His blade dripped, each drop of blood falling with a rhythmic pat against the ground.Jake on the other hand sighed after his long flashback of memories. He's irritated of why he remembered that now. He look at Raja who's attention is not on him but on Tales. “You really like him huh,” he mused, gazing towards Tales direction. “Didn't really know you like used products." He dissed.Raja flinches and his aura darkened, but after sometime, his facial expression is relax. "You can't get anything by saying such nonsense, Jake. You still have to die." He says while his focus was still on Tales. His body. His breathing even though it was shallow and faint. Too faint."Oh
The hospital was colder than Raja expected. Too white and too sterile. The scent of antiseptic seems to clung desperately to his skin, mixing with the dried blood in his body. He hadn’t moved from his spot beside the bed since the doctors had taken Tales in.He will not leave. Not until Tales opened his eyes.If Tales were to... No. That can't happen. It shouldn't happen or else he'll really follow him to hell.When he had first stormed into the emergency room, carrying Tales’ limp, bloody body in his arms, the entire hospital had gone silent as if the scene they're witnessing straight out of the movies. The nurses had frozen in place, their eyes widening as they took in his disheveled state."Get me a fucking doctor!" Raja had roared, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade."Sir—" one of them had started hesitantly."Put him into the bed. Now." One of the personnel that seems like a doctor shouted to gain the attention of the people who's in dazed and is hesitant to appro
A Month Later.Tales had healed—physically, at least. The bruises had faded, the wounds had closed. He hadn't been discharged, he was just given pain meds and instructions to rest to avoid stress. But resting was impossible.Because Raja never came back.At first, Tales had understood. He told himself Raja was busy. That he was handling his men, making sure they had shelter, rebuilding what was lost.But a week turned into two. Then three. Then a full month.No visits.No calls.No messages.Tales tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, that it didn’t eat away at him every time he glanced at his phone and saw nothing.But it did. It really did.He hated how much it affected him.How much Raja’s absence felt like a wound all on its own.Tales feels like waking up in the aftermath of a storm that only he remember—where the sky looks calm, but everything inside him is in ruins. It’s like carrying around a wave of silence in your chest, every breath echoing against his jumbl
Tales stand up and patted his pants before walking back inside the headquarters. He went into his room and find out that his belongings are still there. He clench his teeth. This hurts like hell. He may not want to admit it but Raja's disappearance leave a bitter taste. He packed his belongings but he stop midway when he heard that he's not alone. Who is it?Is it—It couldn't be him—The sound of footsteps echoed down the empty hallway of the headquarters. Tales immediately towards the terrace and looked down from above. His hand grips the rails tightly anticipating the person who's here but to his disappoinment it wasn't him but—“Tales?”He blinked, caught off guard by the familiar voice. Then his vision become clearer—“Ria?”She stood in the base of the staircase, a little out of breath, holding a paper bag in one hand and a curious look in her eyes. Her long black coat fluttered as she stepped inside. For a second, she didn’t move. Then she smiled.“Wow. You’re really here.”Ta
Hah. Hah. Hah. Tales stopped running in the middle of the road as he put his two palms on his thighs. He was out of breath and his sweating buckets. His heart was pounding so much from running and the information he acquired. 'Oliver Ortega, even now, you're still hunting me and making me miserable.'Does Raja knew? Why? Why would he want me to know that Oliver is my father? When he could just bury it for the betterment of us. Even now, the taught of Raja's disappearance seems to bury the weight of the recent information he just acquire.Call... I should make a call—Oh.Tales crouch in frustration. He don't have a phone, and even if he had, be don't know Rajas personal number. Still, if he had, he could have ask his unanswered questions. Why hadn’t he called? He could’ve at least sent a message, some sign that he wasn’t lost to him forever. But he had vanished. Not just physically, but emotionally, disappearing without a trace, leaving him with nothing but the ache of abandonmen
"Are you out of your damn mind?!"Tales blinked because of the familiar voice. He rubbed his eyes to get a clear view of who it is and when he confirmed who it was, he immediately turned his face away. It's Raja!“Why are you... here…” Tales managed to rasp, his voice thick with the weight of everything unsaid, all the pain that had built up in his chest. "You should've just stayed hidden. You tormented me so much and now you appeared and act like a hero? If you don't love me anymore, then don't bother. Do you take me for a pushover?!"But even so... even if I am a pushover —I missed you.Raja’s gaze softened for just a second, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. He shook his head, his voice dropping to a more dangerous tone. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You think drowning yourself in alcohol will bring me back? It won’t.”Tales stared at him, his breath coming in short gasps. His mind reeled, trying to process everything. Raja was here. Raja was standing in front of hi
"Are you out of your damn mind?!"Tales blinked because of the familiar voice. He rubbed his eyes to get a clear view of who it is and when he confirmed who it was, he immediately turned his face away. It's Raja!“Why are you... here…” Tales managed to rasp, his voice thick with the weight of everything unsaid, all the pain that had built up in his chest. "You should've just stayed hidden. You tormented me so much and now you appeared and act like a hero? If you don't love me anymore, then don't bother. Do you take me for a pushover?!"But even so... even if I am a pushover —I missed you.Raja’s gaze softened for just a second, but it was gone almost as quickly as it came. He shook his head, his voice dropping to a more dangerous tone. “You’re an idiot, you know that? You think drowning yourself in alcohol will bring me back? It won’t.”Tales stared at him, his breath coming in short gasps. His mind reeled, trying to process everything. Raja was here. Raja was standing in front of hi
Hah. Hah. Hah. Tales stopped running in the middle of the road as he put his two palms on his thighs. He was out of breath and his sweating buckets. His heart was pounding so much from running and the information he acquired. 'Oliver Ortega, even now, you're still hunting me and making me miserable.'Does Raja knew? Why? Why would he want me to know that Oliver is my father? When he could just bury it for the betterment of us. Even now, the taught of Raja's disappearance seems to bury the weight of the recent information he just acquire.Call... I should make a call—Oh.Tales crouch in frustration. He don't have a phone, and even if he had, be don't know Rajas personal number. Still, if he had, he could have ask his unanswered questions. Why hadn’t he called? He could’ve at least sent a message, some sign that he wasn’t lost to him forever. But he had vanished. Not just physically, but emotionally, disappearing without a trace, leaving him with nothing but the ache of abandonmen
Tales stand up and patted his pants before walking back inside the headquarters. He went into his room and find out that his belongings are still there. He clench his teeth. This hurts like hell. He may not want to admit it but Raja's disappearance leave a bitter taste. He packed his belongings but he stop midway when he heard that he's not alone. Who is it?Is it—It couldn't be him—The sound of footsteps echoed down the empty hallway of the headquarters. Tales immediately towards the terrace and looked down from above. His hand grips the rails tightly anticipating the person who's here but to his disappoinment it wasn't him but—“Tales?”He blinked, caught off guard by the familiar voice. Then his vision become clearer—“Ria?”She stood in the base of the staircase, a little out of breath, holding a paper bag in one hand and a curious look in her eyes. Her long black coat fluttered as she stepped inside. For a second, she didn’t move. Then she smiled.“Wow. You’re really here.”Ta
A Month Later.Tales had healed—physically, at least. The bruises had faded, the wounds had closed. He hadn't been discharged, he was just given pain meds and instructions to rest to avoid stress. But resting was impossible.Because Raja never came back.At first, Tales had understood. He told himself Raja was busy. That he was handling his men, making sure they had shelter, rebuilding what was lost.But a week turned into two. Then three. Then a full month.No visits.No calls.No messages.Tales tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend it didn’t hurt, that it didn’t eat away at him every time he glanced at his phone and saw nothing.But it did. It really did.He hated how much it affected him.How much Raja’s absence felt like a wound all on its own.Tales feels like waking up in the aftermath of a storm that only he remember—where the sky looks calm, but everything inside him is in ruins. It’s like carrying around a wave of silence in your chest, every breath echoing against his jumbl
The hospital was colder than Raja expected. Too white and too sterile. The scent of antiseptic seems to clung desperately to his skin, mixing with the dried blood in his body. He hadn’t moved from his spot beside the bed since the doctors had taken Tales in.He will not leave. Not until Tales opened his eyes.If Tales were to... No. That can't happen. It shouldn't happen or else he'll really follow him to hell.When he had first stormed into the emergency room, carrying Tales’ limp, bloody body in his arms, the entire hospital had gone silent as if the scene they're witnessing straight out of the movies. The nurses had frozen in place, their eyes widening as they took in his disheveled state."Get me a fucking doctor!" Raja had roared, his voice slicing through the silence like a blade."Sir—" one of them had started hesitantly."Put him into the bed. Now." One of the personnel that seems like a doctor shouted to gain the attention of the people who's in dazed and is hesitant to appro
Back to the present.The air smelled strongly of blood. It soaked the concrete of the building, pooling around the bodies of Jake’s men, their throats slit, skulls broken, guts spilling out onto the floor. Raja stood among the massacre with his chest heaving and sweat mixing with the splattered blood that coated his skin. His blade dripped, each drop of blood falling with a rhythmic pat against the ground.Jake on the other hand sighed after his long flashback of memories. He's irritated of why he remembered that now. He look at Raja who's attention is not on him but on Tales. “You really like him huh,” he mused, gazing towards Tales direction. “Didn't really know you like used products." He dissed.Raja flinches and his aura darkened, but after sometime, his facial expression is relax. "You can't get anything by saying such nonsense, Jake. You still have to die." He says while his focus was still on Tales. His body. His breathing even though it was shallow and faint. Too faint."Oh
Jake’s resentment festered like an untreated wound.For years, he swallowed the bitterness, forced himself to held his head high in front of Oliver, forced himself to play the loyal unambitious son, even as something in him curdled and rotted with every passing day.He should’ve given up. He should’ve accepted it. Raja became Oliver’s favorite. Raja became the chosen one. Raja was the one who mattered.But Jake wasn’t built to accept. He wasn’t built to be cast aside. He was trained for survival. So if Oliver didn’t see him as his son—Then Jake would make sure Oliver had nothing left to see at all. If he couldn’t be Oliver’s greatest creation, he would be his greatest failure.However, that alone wasn’t enough to burn Oliver’s empire to the ground. Being a disgrace would only give a little to no impact towards Oliver and the organization. No—Jake wanted to carve it apart, piece by piece, while Oliver was still alive to witness it crumble.And so, he planned.He started with Victor.
Jake had always done exactly as he was told.From the moment he could walk, Oliver had shaped him like a blade—sharpened his mind, hardened his body, stripped him of anything weak. And he had obeyed. He had followed orders. He had killed. He had smiled when Oliver wanted him to smile, knelt when Oliver wanted him to kneel, and suffered when Oliver wanted him to suffer. Because that was what a son was supposed to do.He was not loved.He was not special.He was a project. A tool. A thing to be possessed and used.Jake learned early that love was something you had to earn. That it wasn’t given freely. That if he did everything Oliver asked—if he followed the rules, if he never mess up or doubt, if he obeyed—maybe then he would hear something kind. Maybe then his father would look at him like he mattered. Maybe his father would look at him with love.So he obeyed.The first time Oliver threw him into a fight, Jake was seven. Small, underfed, shaking. His opponent was older—twelve, bigger
The night air was suffocating as Raja approached the entrance of Jake’s hideout—a rotting industrial complex left behind from another era. The rusted metal and broken windows appeared like coarse teeth in the dark. Raja's boots crunched over debris as he stalked forward, carrying a gun and a long knife in both of his two hands, his breathing slow and controlled despite the ache in his battered body. Blood—dried and fresh—clung to his clothes. He looked like a man crawling out of hell. Maybe he was.This was it. The end of the line.He passed the first perimeter silently, his blade and gun glinting faintly in the moonlight. Jake's guards had been stationed like cattle, unaware that the slaughter was coming.He was just announcing himself walking with his head held high, however seems like the security is too lax.Raja didn't waste time.The first man barely made a sound as Raja’s knife sliced clean through his throat. The second caught the glint of blade too late, a gun halfway raised