Hunt Down Rose

Chapter 1: Paradox (Part II)

 As I went onward, I can hear those condemned souls scratching, screaming out of the wooden doors. Shadows creeping on the hallway grasping for light, with the feeling of being watched. Reaching the middle part of the hallway, I turned the switch on and the lights slowly started to take its place. The haunting finally stopped, leaving a nice and peaceful path for me.

  Entering the crypt I faced the mirror located on both sides of the room. There I saw him, sitting on my dental chair in the middle of the crypt, drinking tea.

 For years I’ve been fed up with my own hallucinations. Based on what my psychologist told me before, I have an identity disorder even though there's more to it than meets the eye. Personally, I don’t think it is the proper wording for such since it lacks a lot of things based on experience. To describe how it works, imagine another insignificant you dwelling inside your head even though in the first place, he should not exist.

What he wants or what he means, it is completely blank for me, since he discusses irrelevant epithets most of the time. He can be useful in certain situations, using my own body as his vessel to get the job done. There is much to unravel in the history of this country, the establishment of the government, uproar due to the militarization, and conspiracies that I myself have been a part of. This man right here that looks exactly like me, is one of the country's dark mementos.

The only thing that I know is that from the spotlight of the world, there might be a substantial number of my kind who experiences the same demented, and detrimental state of being. From my years of studying forensics and blacksmithing, I can only use brief homemade remedies to ease my visions often. It’s working so far and I can still manage to handle the pressure, amidst the erratic mood that he portrays whenever I see him in mirrors. Grimnoir, a name that he gave to himself that seems to have quite a meaning but never explains anything about it. I did my best to remove him out of my head but just like most of the stitches that I have on my body, this entity is built to last.

Before I force myself to smash the mirror, I grabbed my phone and started calling a colleague of mine that specializes in systems and information. Unlike any other I.T. nerds, he has a certain taste in military weaponry in which gives me the upper hand whenever I need to do some hunting. Given the fact that he has aced his major exams, he didn’t finish his studies and started working on a military corpse as a maintenance man before getting kicked out because of his little prank on the building’s main server. He placed a bug on the system jamming the connection just for him to acquire internet services in his room. Apparently he is a brain for hire and he has the freedom to piss anyone off their comfort zone. I just hope he isn’t on a tight schedule to do some stuff since he has to run his business and expertise in different sectors.

*Ring* *Ring* *Ring*

After 45 seconds of waiting, a somehow foggy voice could be heard on the other side.

“Yeah who is this?” At second thought I wondered who this person is since it seems so vague.

 “It’s me, Thomas. By the way, is this the right number?” I said to him asking myself if I dialed the right number.

“Don’t tell me you are drunk at this very moment?” I added checking my list of contacts on my shelf.

“It’s me Carlos, and yeah I’m f****d up from last night.”

“Do you have some spare time?” I asked.

“Are you asking me on a date pretty boy?” For a moment I felt my blood boil…

“Do you want me to shoot you when we meet?”

“Hahahaha! That’s the Thomas that I know.” From the other line I can hear him fall off the floor.

“Oof! I’m ok, I’m ok” He replied on the phone probably getting his body off from somewhere.

“Well, what is it that you want?”

“Just a few profiles checked and previous occupations,” I said to him opening some of my notes with some of the case files clipped on the side. Something is definitely missing from the police report submitted to me a while ago.

“Seems like you got yourself up on another case huh?”

“Yes. And do you know whose case it is?” I said to him giving him the chance to think deeply and get his head on the run.

“Cut me some slack will you!! I still have this hangover from last night.”

“So is that some sort of celebration? Or another heartbreak?”

A sudden moment of silence filled the room as I waited for his response. I must’ve crossed his comfort zone, although this doesn’t happen often in our conversations.

“I don’t want you to laugh at what I’m about to say, alright?” He spoke in such a low volume.

“Sure, as if there’s something funny about your situation right now?”

Then he paused once again undoubtedly gaining his momentum to speak up this matter.

“My pet rabbit died yesterday.”

Just when I was about to sympathize with him, I wasn’t able to hold myself and I started laughing out loud that it echoed all over the room.

Then I heard him shouting over the phone. “Hey!! I told you not to laugh you moron!!”

“Hahahaha!! What can I do? It’s funny, funny indeed.” For some reason, the only thing I pity him right now is his habit of making a big dilemma over small things in his personal life.

His situation is always prone to humor in many ways that I can conceive. “Man this is the reason why I hate saying these things to you.”

“Come on, I called you for your expertise, obviously not to be your psychiatrist on your personal thoughts and problems.”

“Yeah, yeah Dammit! Anyways, who’s the unlucky bastard worthy of your irritation?” I can hear him sitting on his chair pressing a few buttons, probably his personal computer. The usual gesture of a lazy programmer depressed on something irrational is what’s coming inside of my head as I consider the response he’d be giving me once he finds out who the person is.

“It’s Mr. Armando Yun.” I said to him as he briefly paused for a moment.

“Whoa! Since when did you get yourself into a big fish? “

“The case was just given to me this morning. Apparently I’m still lacking a lot of information and individual backgrounds.”

“Wait there bro… I’ll be doing a quick run-through on his businesses.”

A long list of names and ventures occurred on my screen. As I can see, they are names with preceding transaction dates during the end of the dictatorial rule.

After a few minutes, something seems to be happening on his desk. “Hmm… Just don’t get caught up on what you’re doing. I have a bad feeling on this guy’s associates.”

I started to hear a lot of typing coming on the other side of the line. It’s as if I’m hearing the sound of a machine gun with its bullets ready and stocked up for action. Beeping sounds and electronic buzzes started to occur with some confirmation voices. He must be gathering the information through illegal sources across the network.

After 4 minutes of nonstop typing and whatsoever is going on there.

“There you have it!” He shouted at the phone

“What do you mean you have it?”

“Let me send the file over on your email. It should be there immediately.”

I hurriedly opened my laptop and logged on to the internet. As soon as I checked my mail I noticed the file he was itching to show me. Opening it, a bunch of names and corresponding affiliations popped up along with their status. Most of the individuals here are dead based on the events that took place during the revolution.

  According to the intel report stored inside the FBI’s protected archives, the military along with the science department opened a business venture here in the Philippines 30 years ago. Using the genes of various athletes, world-renowned scientists, individuals, and Nobel Prize winners, they were able to splice it and create an artificial serum that once cultivated with the right genome, can enhance the person’s capacity in relation to the genes inherited from the source. Even though the cause of the government’s downfall isn’t related to the development of the said drug, it was still a serious case that was addressed by the officials and revolutionaries. As much as possible, they prevented the leakage of the project even across the countries to ensure that no sort of recreation would take place. Only a handful of individuals have access to this information including me.

The list that was given to me shows a second-hand relationship between the benefactors of the project: politicians, influential personalities, directors, and those who were killed during the overthrow of the government. Only several individuals are still alive and if it would be updated, excluding Yun. What’s written here are the transactions and activities that Yun has made during the past few decades from business personal visits, import of materials from overseas suppliers, and currency exchanges, we have it here. We also have a transcript of bank deposits, acquired from using my access ID in Yun’s bank database.

All of these are well written from 1982 up to the present dates. It appears that Carlos has been digging up some stench out of the man himself for quite a while now. Indeed, Armando Yun has been the talk of the town ever since the declaration of his case as a murder incident. Those people are fond of playing games and would do their best to make it look like something was staged. Plus, the way they used the constitution to prevent bypass of information regarding these sketchy contracts, adds more to my current number suspicions about them. With these papers at hand, we could immediately file a case for economic sabotage and corruption. However, I am not in a position to do so, and filing a lawsuit would destroy my momentum in solving this case.

“I see…” I kept on scrolling just the interesting parts of the mail then something caught my eye.

“Wait a minute! What’s with this list?”

”So you’ve noticed at last.”

“Yes, I just did so what’s the gist of it?”

“Ok…” He started typing once again.

“Do you remember what I sent you earlier about his associates?”

“Yeah, I’m quite aware.”

“Unfortunately, Mr. Armando Yun was engaged with illegal activities starting off within years 1983 to 1995 with a few ex-cons working on a certain organization.”

“Yes. And some names seem familiar here too, such as the people that were part of the board of directors of Yun’s company and a lot more.”

Then it jogged my memory, “Wait, Aren’t these people all businessmen and investors on the military project? If most of them are dead, how can they be related to this? The remaining survivors of the incident already left the country and lived normal lives.”

“You guessed that right. Apparently 12 out of 25 people in the list are already dead, some of which became rather controversial. You’ve had their cases I presume, and you are familiar with their cause of death of the two of them.”

“The first one died of a car accident, while the second one was found hanging on his room inside a certain hotel in manila 5 years after the revolution. Both deaths happened within the same year, though the death interval was estimated to be 36 hours.”

“So what are your ideas about their case?”

“Well I wasn’t able to take a hold of the case records. I was just involved in researching some information for the sake of recording.”

“In any case let me give you some ideas on this one.”

“Make it quick, I still have to fetch some things.”

“Don’t get yourself coughed up too much, I’m already on it.”

He continued, “Here are some details about their expenses and trades during 1982 up to the present time.” Several highlighted entries were shown on the attachment he sent me.

“Was this after or before the revolution?”

“This was in the middle of the bridge pretty boy.”

“What do you mean?” Surprised on what I’ve heard, it doesn’t seem realistic enough for that forsaken company to make stock trades nor any business inclined changes due to the country’s economic blockade. The end of the dictatorial rule caused a lot of downfalls such as stock prices and more. I am sure that some of those people were instantaneously killed by the militants the moment their gates were breached.

“If you are thinking about business and s**t well you are almost close to that.” He responded in such an irritating approach

I noticed new mail from my account. I read it immediately and saw a transcript of records. Surprised, I noticed it wasn’t what I expected it to be.

“So they were illegally trafficking people across Asia. Could it be that weapons and drugs could be assessed on each carrier?”

“Well, you got the trafficking alright but not quite.”

Surprised at his response, I quickly glanced at the mail checking if I missed anything necessary.

“Not quite?” I replied to him curiously regarding his remarks.

He started typing once again although it seems to be at a shorter pace. As I glanced on my screen another note popped up. This time I’ve been bothered by the contents. Noticing the brackets, these were the list of the previous intelligence agents used by the NBI. Even before, bad blood has been existing within the veins of the agency. I guess the fact still remains that money is indeed the real cause of corruption. Although these agents have no direct contact with the project, being used as a pawn led some of them to their very own demise. Every single person listed here was assassinated by an unknown assailant a day after the completion of delivering information overseas.

“So they’re smuggling information?” Thinking it to myself, it’s hard to chew on the details of this business. Given the right amount of threat during that time, it’s far from impossible for them to make any ventures with a group of revolutionaries waiting for their heads. If it was information, sending a letter or email could be sufficient enough than sending a group of people. The worst possible scenario is that they must have sold some information about the drug. If ever that is the case, we might have a problem due to the dangers that lie ahead.