PART I

"Are you okay? You're badly injured," Zeke panicked. George shook his head and chuckled softly, before revealing the rationale for his elation. He reached into his sweater, where his wound supposedly was, and pulled out a fake blood bag. The remaining liquid ran out of the bag, out onto the floor.

"I wasn't actually unconscious, and I prepared these bags all over my body. They made my image look conspicuously bloated, but at least it was rather effective," George groaned. "Rather?" Zeke frowned.

"Yes. The bags weren't fully stab-proof, which explains the wounds I have around my abdomen. It's nothing, though," George explained. Zeke sighed. "I think you need to get to the hospital. Those wounds look pretty bad-"

"That can come later. For now, we have to focus on retrieving Peter. I managed to get a tracker on his shirt. Hopefully they don't notice it," George cut in before being interrupted by Zeke once more.

"Wait, but who are you again?" he raised an eyebrow.

George cleared his throat. "Oh, pardon me. I am George Pace, one of the last surviving people who helped to put the BMEV-2 pandemic to an end six years ago. Some of the other survivors include Peter, who was just taken away just now, and his wife, Zoe. We don't know about her whereabouts, though, and we don't even know if she is alive. And finally, Matthew Davis, the first one to discover Ysrael's vicious plot. He was killed in the recent LA-NY train disaster, sadly. And we all know that it wasn't an accident."

"So, how did you get involved in... all of this?" Zeke questioned. Peter squeezed his eyes tight, as if he would pain himself to explain his story. After all, it was a sad one.

"Long story short, the BMEV-2 virus was ironically caused by a man who was desperate to find a cure for another disease that his wife had. My whole family, including myself, were the first volunteers for the cure trials. I was the only one that was lucky to chicken out of the test. My parents and sister weren't so fortunate, though. They ended up being the first carriers of the virus. Later I revisited the same hospital where the white fever test trials took place at and came across Matthew and his accomplices."

Zeke heaved a sad sigh. "Oh. I'm a sorry about that..."

"Don't be. I know you know how it feels. Your brother... was a resilient one. I never knew him that personally, but Peter told me about him. He was a lot more than people thought he could be. Even Eliot said so."

"How do you know him? Your friend Peter told me that he was part of some organisation called-"

"The Rebellion. They're basically a group of people who are trying to take down Ysrael Technologies. It's failing though. They're just severely outnumbered. They may be hardy, but so is Ysrael. The Rebellion isn't that vigorous in ambushing Ysrael, but the latter won't regret using violence to subdue the former."

Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious, notification rang from George's phone. "Storytime's over. I got Peter's location. He's at the airport right now."

PART II

"Taxi," George flagged his hand. A cab immediately pulled over. The two stepped into the cab agilely and hurried the driver to bring them to the airport as fast as he could.

"What a coincidence, huh?" the taxi driver spoke, glancing at the rear-view mirror for a moment.

That voice. And those distinct, blue eyes, George thought.

"Eliot?" he gasped. The driver chuckled. "Hey, buddy. It's

been a while. How've you been?"

George tremored. "Not good. How about you?"

"Not too bad. But could be better. I've been covering up as a taxi driver for quite a while already. Undercover purposes," Eliot elaborated on his situation.

Zeke raised an eyebrow. George instantly noticed. "Oh, this is Eliot. You can say he's the leader or organiser of the Rebellion. Matthew was actually the first one to meet him, six years ago in a carnival. He introduced Eliot to me later."

"What's the leader of a secret organisation doing here, driving cabs?" Zeke queried, puzzled. "Well," Eliot began. "I thought a down-to-earth approach would be more effective and ethical for me. So it doesn't matter what position I'm in. I'm just happy to do something to help the organisation. It's quite unfortunate that the organisation is kind of losing out to Ysrael for now though."

Zeke nodded, taking in the information slowly. He looked out of the window. The skyscrapers full of people reminded him of how vulnerable everyone was to terrorist attacks and massacres, just like what had happened earlier on. It was truly traumatising, but at least he managed to take down the two shooters.

Deep inside, however, he still felt that it was wrong of him to hurt them. Even if they were terrorists. Did he actually feel sympathy for them? He questioned himself the same thing over and over again. Then again, he reminded himself of the countless, innocent people that had fell prey to the two shooters.

"This silence is awful. Someone, please say something," Eliot stated. "You just did," George joked. Eliot looked as if he was trying to roll his eyes, but obviously, as the driver, he could not. Zeke, however, seemed like he was in a completely different world.

"You're thinking about something," Eliot sensed. "Who, me?" George enquired. "Not you, silly. You, uh... your name?" Eliot waved his hand.

"Oh, uh, Zeke Lee," Zeke answered, snapping out of his train of thoughts. "What exactly happened just now, George?" Eliot interrogated. "You mean... the whole shooting incident at Stalpace Junction?" George clarified.

"Yes... the whole thing..." Eliot reiterated. And as soon as George began, Zeke zoned out again, into a new train of thoughts. The memories of the whole shooting just added pressure to his already damaged mind. His clear visualisations of the shootings constantly sent him back to the previous incident in which his brother was killed in.

Every now and then, he thought that he felt some sympathy or emotional outburst when he recounted his decision to shoot the two shooters. He didn't like seeing people in pain, even if they were perpetrators. Then he'd just remind himself about how his brother was ended in such an incident too, and vengeful thoughts would flood his mind.

"You're doing it again," Eliot repeated. "I think you must really have been traumatised."

"Yeh, duh? I didn't think that'd I have to experience two heart-wrenching terrorist experiences. I just wish all of this never happened. I feel like I'm fighting myself right now, and its just a raging war in my mind. I don't even know what is right and wrong anymore," Zeke cried.

Eliot cut in, "Calm down. Don't stress yourself too much over it. You did the right thing. If you had delayed your choice by a second, someone else could have became a victim of those shooters. And if you hadn't escaped with George, you'd probably have been taken in by the police, and you know what happens next..."

"Wait. I forgot about Gabe. I wonder how he's doing right now," Zeke muttered to himself. "Who's that?" George turned to ask him. "Oh, just one of my friends. Basically, we came all the way to downtown to get some quality sandwiches—"

"You what?" George frowned. "Yes, and it was worth it. Well, it would have been if not for the shooting. Anyway, he had to rush off for piano class three stops from Stalpace Junction. It wasn't long before the shooting took place though. And now I wonder how he is," Zeke explained.

Just at the right moment, Zeke's phone rang. A call incoming from Gabe. "He's calling. Give me a moment here."

"Hello?" Zeke answered.

"Zee! Are you okay! I just heard the news. There was a really bad shooting at Stalpace Junction. Another one... Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. Okay, I need you to get to LAX right now. I'll explain later."

"What, but I—"

Eliot and George directed their focus towards Zeke (of course, with Eliot multitasking and focusing on the road at the same time). "That's him?" Eliot enquired.

"Yes. If you don't mind, he'll tag along with us and meet at the airport," Zeke answered.

"Wait, but are you sure he can be trusted? I mean, this is like a really top-secret mission..." George doubted.

"Of course he can. And I'm not being biased here or anything. He was present during... during my brother's... um... shooting incident..."

George covered his mouth with the tip of his fingers. "Oh, I-I'm sorry for doubting him. Well, the more the merrier I guess."

"We're here. I can't join you guys, especially if you decide to leave the country. I'll just be helping other clients like you, whilst undercover. In the case that you decide to take a short trip to somewhere else..." he trailed off as he reached the door pocket for three envelopes.

"Cash. There are ten grand in each of them. One for each person. Keep one for your friend later. Make sure you enter solo, not in a group. If not, you'll have to fill in a form and declare your monetary possessions."

"Thanks a lot, Eli. We'll get going now," George expressed his gratitude. "We'll get going then," he said as the two stepped out of the car, into the airport...