VIOLET (ALPHA'S RETRIBUTION)

Chapter 1 “Ariah, follow your auntie—she’s already heading to the car,” Mrs. Chavez instructed her elder daughter while fixing the younger sibling nestled in her baby basket. They were in the park and getting ready to head home. Only one nanny was with them, as it was Sunday and the other was off duty. The driver quickly helped the nanny after seeing her burdened with bags. They had just finished a playdate with some of Ariah’s friends and their parents. The others had left earlier, leaving the family alone in the park. Mrs. Chavez had a clear view of the car, so she felt confident and sent Ariah off to follow. As Ariah walked ahead, a woman suddenly approached, scooped her up without warning, and covered her mouth with a handkerchief soaked in tranquilizer. The woman whisked her away into the thick bushes—Ariah, overwhelmed by the stranger’s strength, couldn’t resist. No trace was left behind. It was as if the child had vanished into thin air. She was carried to a waiting car as her consciousness slowly faded. Mrs. Chavez was startled when Nanny Medy asked where Ariah was. “I sent her to you because it looked like it might rain,” she replied anxiously, scanning the area with growing dread. “Ariah!” she called, her voice cracking with panic. There weren’t many people around, just a few passersby. Only moments had passed since she’d sent her daughter toward the car, which wasn’t far. They began searching, asking around, even alerting the park security. “H-honey, Ariah’s missing!” Eloisa Chavez cried into the phone, calling her husband, who happened to be at the police station just next to the park. “What!? Where are you?” he responded, voice taut with concern. “Police station near the park. I already sent Liah home with Medy,” she sobbed, referring to their youngest child. “I’ll send my men there. Don’t worry—we’ll find Ariah,” he tried to reassure her as her crying grew louder. “Find our daughter!” she finally burst out, no longer able to hold back her tears. “I’ll be there. Let me finish this meeting. Don’t worry, honey,” he said, before hanging up. Even with help from her husband’s team, Eloisa couldn’t stay calm. She paced the small police station restlessly. “Ma’am, we received information from another precinct about two other missing siblings. It may be connected to your daughter’s disappearance,” an officer explained gently, keeping watch over her. “Officer, do everything you can to find my daughter!” Eloisa sobbed uncontrollably. “We’re willing to pay any amount—just bring Ariah back,” she added desperately. The search continued, not just for Ariah but for other missing children. Yet investigations moved at a snail’s pace. Authorities said it wasn’t just one case—child disappearances were rampant, along with thefts and murders, leaving their resources stretched. Arthur Chavez’s team launched their own investigation, but anyone remotely linked to the case seemed to disappear without a trace. They were a wealthy, powerful family—but even with all their efforts, their daughter remained lost. Three Months Later Three children walked hand in hand, as if unaware of their own footsteps. Two girls—around six years old—and a boy of nine wandered the streets, palms outstretched in silent begging, hoping for anything to ease their growling stomachs. Stray children were rare in the distant town of San Juaquin, so they easily drew attention. Many asked who their parents were or where they’d come from. Dressed in grimy clothes and coated in filth, they were hardly recognizable—no one could tell who they were. They remained silent, eyes wide with fear, retreating whenever someone tried to speak with them. They slept anywhere they could find shelter. One night, they ended up near a church, catching the eye of a caretaker. As usual, the children backed away when approached—but hunger eventually overcame fear. When offered food, they finally gave in. The caretaker brought them to the back of the church, where a small school stood. It was actually a modest orphanage funded by the church, sheltering children without families—just like them. Seeing the other kids happily playing softened their fear. They stayed. The sisters gave them new names, since they remembered nothing—blank slates. The boy became Greene. The girls were called Red and Violet. In mere months, it was as though their suffering had been erased. They became energetic and mischievous children again, though faint scars remained from whatever they’d endured. Surrounded by kindness, they flourished. “Greene!” Violet called out, chasing her friend across the yard. She pretended to trip and fall into the grass. “Violet! Are you okay?” Greene stopped running and rushed to her—only for her to grab him. “Boo! You're ‘it’!” she laughed loudly, leaping up and sprinting away. “Hey, no fair Violet!” he shouted as he chased her. “Playtime’s over—it’s chore time,” Sister Julie reminded gently. She was one of the orphanage caretakers. “Yes, Sister!” they replied in unison, quickly obeying. They had been in the orphanage for a year now. No one had come forward looking for them. One day, an Italian couple visited hoping to adopt two children. They chose Greene and Red. It took another year for the paperwork to be finalized. Violet was heartbroken when her friends left—especially upon hearing they’d been taken to Italy. She grew quiet and withdrawn. But she found herself drawn to sports. In third grade, she won a Taekwondo competition at school. Encouraged by the nuns—especially Sister Julie—Violet kept training. It helped her socialize and sparked interest in bonding with others. By her third year in high school, she ventured into kickboxing. Sister Julie voiced concern, even if her tuition was covered thanks to her involvement. Schools offered scholarships to student-athletes. “Violet, isn’t that kind of sport for boys?” Sister Julie asked one day. “I can handle it, Sister. And there are plenty of girls on the team, I'm not alone, don't worry” Violet replied respectfully. She loved the sport—and it gave her purpose. At times, she even thought about running away and starting life on her own. But she couldn’t do it—not to these kinds of people. Especially not to Sister Julie, who had become like a mother to her. She was Violet’s comfort during nightmares. Her support when her friends left. “Don’t worry—I’ll always be careful,” Violet whispered one morning, kissing Sister Julie’s cheek before heading to school. She was graduating from high school, yet Sister Julie still treated her with loving care. “One, two! One, two!” barked her coach, watching her refine her drills. Her match was fast approaching, and she trained relentlessly—even though her coach believed she’d win easily. “Good job!” the coach said, tossing her a towel for sweat. At sixteen, Violet’s muscles were firm and lean. Her body reflected the discipline taught to her at the orphanage. “Violet, don’t push yourself if it gets too rough. Stay safe,” Sister Julie reminded her that morning before the match. “Yes, Sister,” Violet replied softly, knowing the woman was worried. “Dios mio… what if something happens? Please be careful,” Sister Julie pleaded once more. The competition was held in a neighboring town. Violet won gold in several Kickboxing divisions and clinched one win in Taekwondo. She was victorious—but came home bruised, with a split lip. Sister Julie was deeply concerned as she treated Violet’s injuries. “Maybe we shouldn’t have let you train in such a brutal sport,” she scolded gently, worry thick in her voice. “You'd better recover fast, or the sponsors will think we let you get beaten up,” she added. A long-time sponsor of the orphanage was coming to visit, and it was tradition for the kids to prepare a short program in gratitude for them. That Sunday, Mr. Max arrived—a flamboyant businessman and longtime supporter of the orphanage. He’d helped countless kids graduate and currently funded others across the country. Known for his charity work, he owned a famous clothing line. Violet was preparing backstage for her performance when someone suddenly spoke behind her. “Violet.” She was startled, but she quickly composed herself. “Mr. Max,” she greeted politely while adjusting her dobok uniform. “Do you need something, sir?” she asked. “Violet, where are you planning to study after your high school graduation?” he asked directly. “Well… I don’t know yet. I think I’ll work first and save up,” she said shyly. She didn’t have a solid college plan—and didn’t want to burden the orphanage with it. “How would you like to be a soldier? My friend is looking for recruits for training. I see great potential in you,” he said. “Don’t worry—you’ll be paid during training. You won’t be alone; there are others too,” he added, seeing her hesitation. Leaving the orphanage had always been her dream—to live a life of her own. “Fifty thousand a month,” he offered. “Plus allowances while training.” She didn’t need time to think. She quickly accepted. After graduating, Violet said goodbye to the orphanage. The staff gave their blessing, especially with Mr. Max vouching for her, saying he’d oversee her schooling in exchange for working in his company. One week later, Violet was picked up and flown to Manila. There, she met her fellow trainees—six boys and six girls. She thinks they were almost the same age. Boarding a private plane marked ALPHA, they traveled for nearly an hour and landed on a secluded island at the southern tip of the Philippines—Mindanao. Only upon arrival did they receive their briefing. They would undergo training to become part of ALPHA’s private army.