ANTIHEROES: Kingdom In The Depths

Chapter 1 - A Long Dream (part 1)

Wednesday, January 9th, Present Year

Get out of here!

She always knew how it went, every time. Dreams were a reality in her head. She would run from darkness into a distant pale blue light, and when she got there, it would start a new story, with yet similar pattern.

A tiny part of her brain would recognize it was not just a dream, it was lucidity, almost immediately as it started. But soon as it started, she would experience real pain throughout her body. Then it began, a long dream.

I can't move! Her half-awakened mind protested. My feet hurt!

She ran about the memories dump area in her brain, losing the track of time. Because time was a friend to the enemy that could trap her in indefinitely.

Come now!

She stopped to recall who the familiar yet strange voice belonged to. Soon she became tired of playing hide-and-seek one too many times, on a repetitive cycle. Now she doubted if her mind was correct again, have we played it before? My mind is playing tricks, and tricks are what it does the best.

There's snow!

Now it didn't make sense but she didn't care about voices anymore, she had spawned on a middle of a shallow river, and the flowing water was green and red like blood.

Is it a dead man's river? She thought.

But there was no escaping anymore. It was indeed the dead realm whose master sleeping somewhere. She walked straight into the deep end, this was how she died.

"Freya, wake up you sleepyhead!" a raspy, familiar voice called out, followed by a gentle shake on her arms.

She opened her eyes, jolting awake, randomly grabbing the blanket tucked around her.

This was how she came back from the dead, asphyxiated and without sense of time. She had long way to make it back.

"Nightmare again?" the elderly woman smiled, with a golden morning light over her face. The woman was Suci Joyo, the house assistant.

She reached for a bottle of water by her bedside. "It's the-river-in-the-wood dream again."

"You still couldn't see what's chasing you?"

"No, but it keeps creeping in the dark trying to get me, now closer."

The old lady tapped her on the shoulder, she always came up with the same old piece of advice that got Freya pretty stale.

"Don't forget to pray before, dear... it saves you from the wicked and the damned," the lady advised as she exited the room.

Yeah, seems legit, Freya sneered in skepticism. She would be the last person on earth to believe in night prayer, because it was no match to the persistent nightmares.

"Downstairs! Breakfast ready, hurry up or you'll be late!" Mrs. Joyo shouted from the stairs. "Your mother said she'll be home tonight."

* * *

Higa International private high school was located on a vast area in the Southern part of Jakarta, right by the border to Banten Province. The route to get there was one of the most jammed streets in the city. It took Freya over an hour to get to school every morning, which she turned into a routine meditation. If meditation involved doing homework with bad writing due to car's movement and bumps on the road.

Like a spell, the gate was locked at seven sharp, the students understood the rule very well. Arriving late even for a minute would cost them first lesson and an hour-long humiliation in the counseling room.

As Freya stepped out of the car and sent the driver home, the gate was already locked, nobody but a wild grey cat wandered around it. Only if she had athletic jump skill, which she currently did not, would she leap beyond the three meters tall wall, risking it all. The last time she failed an attempt of only 120 cm tall rope jump in the physical education class.

Kelly, I'm late. Damn, I hate it when you're right.

Freya sent a text message to her best friend, Kelly Rudianto, who had been friends with her since the first day of junior high school. She was referring to Kelly's advice not to stay up... and drink on weekday.

She ran into nearby bus shelter to avoid direct sunlight.

She decided a stained metal bench in rusty orange paint was a good option rather than having cramp for standing up too long under the tree. To kill time, she pulled out a copy of The Decameron by Giovanni Boccaccio that she hadn't finished reading and had been sitting in her school backpack for quite some times.

"Wherein is contained, how hard a thing it is, to distinguish goodness from hypocrisy?" a mild, teasing voice from the left side of the bench took her by surprise. "And how... the wickedness of one man, may deceive many."

The opening line of the first novel, she thought, who in this world could have read this? Freya turned around. A solid figure stood nearby, wearing the school's male uniform inside an unzipped navy jacket, apparel of a renowned Italian football club, F.C. Internazionale Milano.

"Who are you?" Freya turned her head, lifting one eyebrow. Another late student in the first day of the semester.

"Boccaccio," he said, an upward arch of lips was developed in the boy's confident face. "How can you not know me?"

"Is it supposed to be some kind of quiz or... ?" asked Freya.

The boy chuckled and glanced at her. "Hi... I'm Aaron."

"Okay, Aaron," replied Freya, unimpressed.

"You may recognize me as the football captain, supposed you have memory of inter high-school football tournament held last December."

Freya tried to recollect event from a month earlier, cranked back to her book. "Oh sorry, I'm just not into football."

He scratched his head, looking shyly away. "Not into football, I see... we won the first place by the way. You're Freya Venn, right?"

Freya turned her head. "How'd you know my name?"

"I saw you a couple of times in photography club," answered Aaron. "I think you're very talented, you have a lot of great shots."

"I've been inactive for six months," Freya replied.

"Bummer, I like your works," praised Aaron. "I saw the series with the really skinny people in dirty brown torn-up, old clothing. They're really good, touching... saddening."

"It's for ethnic fashion show in Surabaya."

"Oh, my! I thought it was about malnutrition."

What a strange insult, Freya thought. She turned over the page roughly, trying not to throw the whole book at him.

"Anyway, why are you late?" He sat beside her who now threw the sharpest peer, implying for him to stop talking.

"Trouble sleeping," Freya replied, curt.

"Well, that's bad. I could use some of that to watch UCL last night, I hate to miss the El-Classico match, you know, Real Madrid versus Barcelona. Unfortunately I fall asleep the second my head touch pillow."

Freya figured the non-stop talking guy must have been cracked somewhere on his temple.

"UCL is not started again until February," Freya said scathingly.

He stared at her. "You know a lot for a person who is not a fan."

"I lied clearly because I wasn't interested in talking to you," said Freya.

"Clearly. I thought we can kill some time before the gate open, you know what, you should come up with a warning 'beware of vicious dog'  written on a big cardboard tag, oh right, I forgot, you've got that one on the orientation days already!"

"I'm sorry?" Now he had completely gotten Freya into her nerves. She remembered the orientation week in the first semester when she was forced into wearing the mentioned tag, which in the third day, another senior decided it was boring and strikethrough the letter dog, replaced it with word b***h. The humiliating moments lasted effectively until the rest of the week.

"Apology accepted," Aaron replied calmly.

"Is sarcasm a foreign language to you?" asked Freya rhetorically.

"Only my mother tongue."

"I thought you only speak native annoying."

"You're very fluent in it, too. Anyway, I'm gonna jump in, no benefit comes from missing classes to talk to a badger in human form," Aaron said as he ran toward the fence, climbed its side naturally. He reached the top in two seconds and disappeared beyond the wall.

Freya was left with mouth open to watch him disappear into the building. He just crawled up the wall, for crying out loud!

* * *

"Why did you come late?" the student counselor asked. The fourth semester had only begun for three days and she was already sent to the counseling office, the staff in charge was definitely not happy about it.

"There was very bad traffic jam this morning, Ma'am, sorry."

She continued with an eyebrow pulled upwards, "There's always traffic jam, what did you expect? First week as bonus?"

"No, I woke up late, too, I wasn't feeling well last night."

The student counselor shook her head.

"Don't make it hard. Go sleep at ten, don't do drugs, don't be late to school," the lady pelted Freya with exact last words she needed to hear.

"I sleep at ten, Ma'am," Freya lied.

The woman in her late forty fixed her eyeglasses, gave Freya the careful-young-lady-I'm-not-easy-to-lie-to look.

"No argue there, are you currently taking some pills?" the counselor made a skeptic face.

Freya was about to burst with a 'do I look like a crackhead, Ma'am? You look more convincing,' on a sarcastic strike but she politely changed to "No, I don't, my latest trimester check-up record is clear, you can check."

She cleared her throat, "well, there are plenty drug substances not yet detected in test, we are working on it. Any chance this is a side effect of other drugs, say... valium, sleeping pills, slimming pills, birth control?"

"No!" Freya frowned. It sounded worse in her head.

"Then you better take care of your sleeping schedule and never come back here. You have some serious disciplinary issues, accumulatively 30 times late since tenth grade, 25 days absent, on top of over 50 sessions skipped in the last two semesters, what happened? Do you go to school other than this one?" she read the long list of Freya's disciplinary record.

Freya sighed, hated to say the same lie over again. "I got sick a lot last year."

"Or so it's written in the doctor's statements. I don't want to bring this up but a letter was sent here three months ago, it slipped and we failed to notice until cleaning day last week, it's from the embassy, and what did you do in Prague, for half a month when you were supposed to lie sick in the Jakarta General State Hospital?"

Chills ran through Freya's spine, cold sweat flooded her face.

"I'm so sorry Mrs. Telam, I can't explain," Freya apologized. "I just... can't."

"You're irresponsible, that's the point," The counselor sighed in disappointment. "Something you got to change if you want to graduate."

"I had something I had to do, and I cannot tell you what it was exactly," Freya shyly looked down on her shirt.

Mrs. Telam knew Freya would not reveal it even by force, she gave up.

"I don't think detention can change that now. If it weren't for your contributions, we would have kicked you out of this school already, you know?" she carefully picked the words, knowing Freya's family was one of the important donators for the school, she also provided health insurance from the company she worked for.

"Am I suspended?" Freya asked.

"Well, suspension is too easy, let's get you an extra lesson, a community service. How about until the end of Friday, you standby in the library and help the staff sort the new arrivals there?"

Freya exhaled, three days detention. "I will be missing classes again."

"You're gonna have to study by yourself, if you did not miss those many classes, I think you're qualified to join the math Olympic team."

"Really?" Freya asked in disbelief, she wasn't qualified for joining the exclusive team last semester.

"Yes, in your dream! Now take this sheet and get out of here!"

The library of Higa high school regularly had been expanded for few times in past years, it listed more than a hundred thousand printed copies of books divided in twenty five sections and more than forty thousand digital versions available through the school's Local Area Network. Last year, the library was opened for public, the board decided to erect a wall between the school's main buildings and the library to prevent library guests from entering school area.

"Fri, put on some glasses, you'll look like a hottie and a dork at once." Kelly stood over the counter Freya was keeping. She decided to accompany Freya during lunch break.

"Kelly, we both know the hottie thing isn't happening," Freya shushed. "Nerdie is all that is, and not even the cool kind."

Freya knew Kelly was known as honor student with straight-As records in school, even though there would not be a smidgen left once she was outside the gate. She would become herself which sometimes Freya described as wild and crazy as a horse with adrenaline rush.

"Anyway, this is coming out next Sunday, what do you think of Michael Kors' latest collection? I'm totally on the top of the first buyers list," Kelly pointed at the digital catalog, enlarged the image of green pointy-heeled pair of shoes, twenty centimeters tall.

"To be honest, I'd rather have the new season Jimmi Choo," Freya responded, knowing Kelly would never doubt buying any Kors' collection. She would not care if the shipping took a month, or if that had her spend a full month allowance.

"So how's it going with your work?" Kelly asked, she was the only one outside the family who knew Freya's job.

"I was totally having wonderful time with Derek calling me every three minutes, asking small details like, if he should choose honeydew over hazelnut for the back ribbons. It wasn't driving me crazy at all and I most certainly did not steal my mom's liquor for that."

Kelly laughed, reveling her snaggletooth.

"Well, no surprise, the big show is next week, he must be pretty neurotics by now," Kelly said.

Freya nodded, she turned on the phone that had been off since morning. Derek must have tried calling her hundred times.

"On a totally different topic, do you know some sort of guy named... Aaron?" Freya asked as she checked her mailbox.

"Aaron? You mean Aaron Harris? The football captain?" Kelly confirmed with one eyebrow lifted.

"Oh yeah, that one," said Freya, looking at the long list of unopened messages from Derek.

"That's not some sort of guy... he's the hotshot, you know? I know girls would kill to be with him, but isn't he a little out of your type?" Kelly giggled. "Too popular."

"When exactly did I say I have a thing for Aaron? He's sooo not my type. I just can't believe he also reads The Decameron."

Kelly's eyebrows furrowed. "What in God's name is that?"

"The tales by Giovanni Boccaccio, father of Italian prose, how can you not know him? Anyway, this guy seems to know me, weirdly." Freya closed the book she's reading and put it before Kelly.

"I can't get a word out of... whatever this thing right here has." Kelly sneered as she opened the first page. "How come you don't know Aaron? He's like in school magazine every month, where were you when he lifted the football tournament trophy last month? It was so epic."

"Prague," Freya replied. "And I should point out that our school magazine is gibberish, US Weekly-giberrish, The Sun-gibberish."

"That's true but also a bummer. I swear I can hear girls' panties dropped so hard on the floor that would leave smoky holes every time Aaron walks by. But I don't think he's dating anyone right now, maybe he likes to focus on national exam and university entrance. Come on, just admit it, you got crush on Aaron?" Kelly persisted.

Freya sighed.

"No, this morning he told me to put on the 'beware of vicious dog' tag again, he's huge, I can't believe he jumped over the front gate's wall!" Freya explained with a little rage.

Kelly leapt up. "I know it! You're totally smitten."

"No, I'm not... that guy's a monster," Freya hissed through her teeth.

"Fri, you don't call a guy with epic abs a monster, he's the school's hero. I heard he was so skinny until eleventh grade, then puberty hit him super hard then he became so popular. Don't blame me after this, you'll become obsessed with him that you track him down like a crazy stalker bitch." Kelly laughed.

"Not in this lifetime, Kelly."

* * *

South China Sea

Hundred miles off the coasts, the 180-foot super yacht was floating on the blue canvas, invisibly. Notorious as home for pirates, The Aurum was the infamous ghost ship that had not made a single appearance in any radar for almost a full decade.

She was lonely on the calm surface with no fixed destination at the moment, just patiently sailing on what seemed to be endless flow of seawater.

After a long wait, a small speedboat came approaching. There were only two people on board, an unconscious young woman gagged and tied, and a wounded young man on the wheel. Soon as the boat tethered into the yacht, the crewmen helped them onto the yacht.

"She's just fainted," the young man said as he put the girl in the promenade deck. Her flowing golden hair glowed as pearl, red skin indicating serious sunburn, apparently she had been heavily sedated to sleep.

"He's injured!" the old Asian man with black hat hurried to the young man with less injuries. He turned to the other crewmen, shouted, "Ice! Clean towels! Antibiotics! Aid kit! Pronto!"

"Joel!" another fine young man called out from the superstructure. "Goodness, you got the leverage!"

"Shut up, Kian! Heave the speedboat and have it refuel, she's not running another mile."

The Aurum's Captain whose name was nicked to Joel panted heavily. "Kian, you pain in the ass, I trusted you with the very important stuff, you shouldn't mess it up with your crazy idea, can't you do anything right? You lost the one thing that really matters! This should better be good barter, or I swear to God I'll shoot you!"

"I'm sorry Joel, I made a terrible mistake," Kian apologized as he examined the girl's wrist, checking her vital signs. "Put her in the confinement, two men, guide her at all time, hourly check. When she wakes up give her water, not wine! We're running out of it."

Joel sat on the wooden floor with his back leaned against the railing, tending to his own wounds from the fight with the girl he just brought on the deck. He remembered how she managed to thrust a dagger into his stomach, barely missed his vital organs, although successfully cut his waist open. He used the short moment to hit a weak spot in the back of her head, as hard as he could. The shock permeated from the critical point thorough her body, knocked her down right away.

This thing should never happen. I should never fight a woman. He thought.

He blamed Kian for everything. If he didn't screw up their transaction, they could have the weapons without having to lose his most precious treasure. He should never knock a woman down, stuffed her in a sack like a lifeless thing and kidn*pped her. He shouldn't have to be involved with her organization.

Six months prior, Joel secured an order for naval weaponry with an undercover company at an expensive cost; all the money Joel saved up. Joel agreed since he needed the weapons; a safety assurance for his well-planned journey.

Kian Whitmore, the former leader of Giant gangster who joined him on the ship, insisted they could do some savings. Joel recalled Kian said I have street market talent, which he liberally translated as bargaining so they could have the guns a little cheaper. Little did he know that what Kian meant was something entirely different.

Kian persuaded Joel not to be involved in the transaction for his own safety. Joel was convinced everything would be completed by the time he came back from Hong Kong to buy some equipment and utilities for the ship.

Turned out, what Kian claimed to be a street market talent was not bargaining, it was simply shooting two sales agents from the company before the deal done, one thing he did not predict aftermath was that the agents were not only experienced in the field, but also lethal.

As soon as the pirates left them alone, they got up and wandered about the ship. They found a glass tube containing old paper stored in a locked drawer before breaking in and getting away with it. The dedicated agents managed to reach ashore with their lives as steep cost. Now the ship had got enough ammunition, but lost the paper that was supposed to be guidance map into their journey.

The news that the crew lost the paper hit Joel shortly after his arrival in Hong Kong. His heart stopped beating at once, gradually torn to debris. The vellum paper was half a millennium old, just a gentle touch away from permanent wreckage. Joel trusted no one to make copies of the paper considering the great risk of explosion.

The paper was his whole life, his decades-old obsession, the reason of his father's death, and his mother's. It was also the reason why the ghost ship was built in the first place. The reason was always where it led to, and what it had hidden from the world.

Joel desperately ordered his crew to find the paper at all cost. After days gone by getting drunk, he received the first information about the paper's whereabouts; the annual underground auction, the most anticipated event for all collectors around the world.

The company that sold the guns quickly located their agents' deathbed, where they found a piece of paper rolled inside a glass tube, stashed safely inside their agent's suit. Assumed it belonged to the pirates' gang who broke the trade agreement, the company had no desire to do business with them anymore. After examining the age of the vellum paper and got completely stunned, they listed it under 'hot items' in the auction. The initial bid was double the amount of money Joel should have paid for the weaponry. To his dismay, he could not afford it through the auction.

The not-very-solid idea came from Mr. Hang, his only original crewman, who successfully cracked some information from the auction insider about the current owner of the paper, Benjamin Iskandar. They found out that he had a daughter of twenty-five-year-old went by the name Spectra, who had just finished her training in an island in East China Sea. Mr. Hang then suggested they kidn*pped her as leverage for the paper.

Then Joel went for days to lurk the girl, only to find out that the training she had just finished was the art of assassination.

* * *