Athena smiles, finishing mixing the tea she wanted to make. She sighs in relief, allowing the tea to drip back into the basin. She places the spoon’s concave end and spins it at the basin’s lips.


    Gerard smiles while he gives tea to a customer. “Next please!”


    A foreigner African-American woman enters the tea shop. “Oh. You’re… white…”


    “Yeah. Problem, Ma’am?” asked Gerard.


    “No, it’s just that, I’d rather meet a homogeneously segregated Philippines, y’know?”


    “Um… The fuck, Madam?” he asked in his awesome British voice.


    “I don’t think it’s controversial to think this… But look at Africa… Look at Finland. Very homogeneous. Clean.”


    “Get out of my restaurant. You offend me.”


    “Okay, racist,” said the black woman.


    Gerard facepalms. “Alright. See you in court, Ma’am.”


    The woman walks away, shaking her head.


    Miguel walks in and passes by the woman.


    “My Lord. Leave this place. He’s racist.”


    “Nah. He’s my lieutenant. Get out while ya still can! Haha!” Miguel meets with Gerard. “I sense black superiority. You good, dude?”


    “I am… good, my friend…”


    “Sorry about the integration policy. Black Supremacists are becoming more and more… annoying… Imagine if a white man said that. He’d get canceled, but if a Filipino and a black dude says it? No one would care,” said Miguel, sighing. “Man Humans suck. Anyway. Hey Gerry. Can I get a Matcha Latte?”


    “Of course, my Lord. One Matcha Late coming up!”


    Suddenly, some Filipino men walk into the store.


    “Hey,” said their leader. “Who is Gerard Persuvius?”


    Gerard sighs. “What would you want, friends?”


    “You the racist that humiliated that poor black woman?“


    Miguel smiles. “This is you fight, dude. Imma watch!”


    Gerard sighs and grabs the katana’s handle poking out of his scabbard. “If you wish to execute me without fair trial, I will not hesitate to fight.”


    “Putangina mo. We want ya outta here from our country, Blondie!!! You don’t belong here, Kano!”


    “I’m Nueva Yorcan. Where I’m from, America is gone.”


    “As it should, colonizer!”


    Gerard draws his katana. “Leave.”


    The seven men prepare to draw their guns.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    “Aight. Let’s see who’s faster,” smiled the man.


    “Can we please take this outside?” sighed Gerard.


    “No,“ they draw but… Their heads are already cut in half.


    “CALL THE POLICE!!!”


    “I pardon him. Never mind,” said Miguel, as the people in the restaurant are terrified by his words.


    Miguel burns the bodies away. “I mean… I don’t kill… But I do agree the only good racist is a dead one.”


    “You’re beginning to sound like Pro. You gonna cover this up?“ asked Gerard.


    “You gotta dirty your hands to fix the world.“


    Gerard sighs and pats his shoulder. “I’m sorry the world did this to you.”


    Miguel sighs and prays for their souls. “Join me, Gerry?”


    “Of course, my Lord,” said Gerard, as he prays as well for their Souls.


    “I don’t hate them,” said Miguel. “But if they’re gonna cause a ruckus, well…” Miguel sighs. “I do sound like Pro…”


    Miguel sighs. “And that’s a story…” Miguel is revealed to be in front of his therapist.


    “Miguel… How do you feel?”


    “Ass. Am I a psychopath?”


    “More like… depressed.”


    “What’s wrong with me?”


    “Absolutely nothing. It’s a very human reaction with the way you are placed in this situation. I am very sorry that this happened to you. But, Miguel… The hardest part of your job is you have to balance idealism with cold pragmatism. You saw those men holding guns and you wanted to kill them. But you had to allow your instinct for what you believed was justice, which was the fact that you would have Gerard handle his own fight. You knew Gerard would kill them. You allowed him to kill them. The old you would’ve kept him in check, or at least scolded him after. You didn’t. Why?”


    “Because Prometheus would want this for me.”


    “What about what you want for you?”


    “That doesn’t matter…”


    “It always matters, Miguel. Have you been… blacking out lately?”


    Miguel slowly looks down.


    “Miguel. You have to tell me the truth.”


    “Maybe. I’ve been blacking out lately.”


    “Would you like me to refer you to a psychiatrist?”


    Miguel nods subtly.


    “I can’t legally give ya meds. But between you and me? Try camomile and gingerbread cookies.”


    “Mmm…” said Miguel.


    “Don’t be like Aurora.”


    Miguel nods. “I won’t. I’m not! I’m… Am I…?”


    “I will refer you. You’ll see them next Saturday.”


    Miguel walks outside, only to see someone on the Hellish news being broadcasted in the big screens doing a near-closed fist symbol, similarly as the ones marching back then. Their near-closed fists have a hold between their palms and fingers, showing circles.


    Miguel is confused. “What is that?” he asked himself. The man on Television is shot dead, confusing Miguel even more.


    Miguel does the symbol, and a few people nod in approval when seeing him, doing the same symbol.


    Miguel meets with Beatle once more later that day…


    “This symbol…” said Miguel.


    “That symbol was made by one of our famous senates in PH History, before Narciso had him assassinated in an airport. Same symbol Rizal used. Same one I used when I was still… idealistic.”


    “The rebels in Aurora’s empire were doing the symbol. Near-closed fists. Hole in the middle. They do it before getting themselves killed.“


    Beatle leans back on his chair. “That means if Prime finds this out, which she probably already had, she likely has leverage to blame you for the current insurrection in their nation.”


    “Why!?”


    “Because that symbol comes from the liberal party of the Philippines… Called the Biloganos by the conservatives who don’t even know they’re conservatives. Narciso supporters. Now, it’s a sign for sociopolitical change used in rebellions that protect the Philippines’ democracy.”


    “So, dictatorship bad?”


    Beatle sighs. “The Manila Revolution, which began in EDSA, as a hefty day. It was the most peaceful revolution in the world, and Narciso’s current son and successor marketed it as a form of treason. He compared himself to Marvel heroes… Even making himself look funny in social media and created armies of supporters. Because they’re stupid. They don’t know how to use Facebook correctly. Meanwhile, the other side, the good side, had me learn to use TikTok. Christ. Around the time I fought against him, Aurora and I used that symbol to argue our points, but soon, when Aurora beheaded him during the Manila Civil War, they used the symbol against her. She associates that symbol to me. And now, you.”


    “So… she def knows…”


    “What’s strange is that she isn’t telling the world about it yet. Could be a form of leverage. A secret weapon she could use to thwart your support. Think about it. All the bloodshed in your name. Well, our name.”


    “Right… Oof.”


    “You should start thinking your next moves, kid. She’s fucking annoying with it.”


    “Do you repent in heart…?”


    “Every time.”


    “You think God forgives us for what we do?”


    “I want to. But I hate myself too much to even think it.”