One Bonifacio High Street blurred with commotion.

It was a weekday and just late enough after lunch that the sun had fallen from its peak. BPO employees collected on the corner in droves, running errands before their shifts started that evening. E-Jeepneys and E-Buses littered the streets. I found this Tokyo of Manila chaotic and characteristically un-Filipino.

We had made our way along 5th Avenue not to people-watch, as I guessed most people here were doing, but to gaze upon the “naked-eye” 3D LED screen.

It played a trailer for The Purposed Blade, a grimdark fantasy adventure involving a crazed berserker in an otherwise expected Scandinavian setting. The protagonist stood on the prowl of a longboat, the waters sloshing off its hull and giving the illusion of spilling off the screen. A few observers standing underneath the LED jumped back before others clapped at their reaction.

I was my father incarnate then, unimpressed by this Western influence.

“What did they say?” asked Reggie. He had his glasses on—thick square ones that made his eyes twice their size. Coupled with his short brown hair and the hulking Beats by Dre headphones hanging over his neck, he could have been mixing EDM tunes.

I checked my phone to find a new text.

[Sending.]

“Keep the texts short and concise.” That’s what my mother told me. “If the PNP or the NBI were to read it, would it be incriminating?”

Reggie plugged his famous dongle into my phone as if we were playing some vintage multiplayer Game Boy Advance setup. “Damn,” he said, scrolling through code as it transferred over. “This is excellent stuff. Think you could introduce me to the dev who whipped this up?”

I wanted to tell Reggie I would. Mother had told me to use the number for hardware or software problems with the show creation engines, but I didn’t know who exactly replied to the text. I considered them nothing more than the Bernal family's tech support. So much of the operation was still behind the scenes to me. My mother’s time away from the family seemed inadequate for building such a shadow empire.

Little did I know how deep those shadows reached.

“There,” Reggie said, not waiting for a response. “It’s proximity-based, so it should work as long as we’re within a kilometer.”

I searched the crowds and found them. To my left, Shay sipped her cold brew, her attention on the crowds. I couldn't help but notice the way she carried herself, something about her presence that drew people in. I pushed the thought aside.

Andrei looked busy on his phone across the street from the billboard and to our right, standing out like a bodybuilder. He had started a conversation with an American lady—at least, I thought she was American—walking her dog. I couldn’t ignore Reggie’s sneer.

All three of them looked more well off than when I had met them as Giant Killers, or even during our time at Teleperformix. Shay had taken the time today to shop for extra clothes, and now two UNIQLO bags sat at her feet. Andrei had done the same, only at various boutiques you’d only find in BGC. Each of them sat or stood straighter. I could not ignore the pang of pride I felt for bringing them this lifestyle.

I just hoped it would last.

I waited until the trailer for The Purposed Blade started to wind down before saying, “Do it.”

Reggie clicked a button on his phone.

The trailer’s protagonist jumped from their longboat onto a dark sandy beach. Just as their feet hit the ground, the screen went dark.

Every head in Bonifacio Global City could have been said to turn toward the LED.

“I bear the burdens of my people,” said Seskone, the Vagrant King. “I am the only one who knows their troubles. I am the only one who can see their chains.” The screen flashed to white. “And I will break them.”

The quote was a scene from episode two, but it had the intended effect of pulling the audience in. Several people stopped their phones and wearable conversations, removing their eyes from their devices and gluing them to the LED.

From then, the episode one scene played out. The assassins invaded the throne room of Crystalline’s leaders and assassinated them in all its graphic (yet not gory) detail. The focus switched to Seskone next to the palisade wall, looking destitute and broken. Quoreflux approached him, and Mother’s in-house screenplay engines had done the right thing and focused the shots on the faces of the two characters. They spoke, and people watched.

Then, the audience of One Bonifacio did what I hoped they would: they pulled out their phones and started recording.

“We will be the Crest,” said Seskone, “and we will be its Killers.”

A drum banged. The Crest and its Killers appeared in simple white text over a black background.

The crowds turned to each other, and some applauded—for a trailer they had no obligation to watch. One woman held a hand on her chest, looking ready to faint. I thought she was overreacting until her husband caught her.

The chattering began, then, the cliques of people huddling close to each other and conversing. Strangers felt compelled to tell each other what they had just seen.

“Let’s go,” I said.

As soon as I did, Shay and Andrei followed from afar. I drew a path past these crowds, listening to their conversations and excitement about the show they knew nothing about.

“The Crest and its Killers?” someone asked. “What’s that?”

“It’s not on Metamatics, Intervid, or Delta Reel.”

“Not on Sugoi Soiree either.”

“I can’t find it on Rotten Tomatoes or IMDB, either.”

“Check Wikipedia.”

“It’s not there, either!”

“What is this show?”

“Is it even real?”

“I want to watch it!”

“Me too!”

“Me too!”

The others enjoyed the praise as well. Andrei even tried to strike up a conversation with two people talking about the show walking beside us. Reggie grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away.

Word-of-mouth marketing can only go so far. Sometimes, you have to push the idea in front of someone. People don’t know what they want until it appears in front of them.

Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

I had parked the FOTON SUV outside a Mercury Drug. We packed in, and I cranked the AC, eager to escape the heat.

Shay took the front seat, her left hand on the armrest and my right hand on the clutch. I shifted us out of the parking lot and onto the street. Her elbow brushed mine. The others probably noticed, but after what we had just pulled off, I didn’t care

I dropped Reggie and Andrei off in Poblacion. “That was a good idea,” Andrei reminded Shay and me before he stepped out. “We’ll see how the Giants compete with that. Keep your eye on the critics.” As he went, I made eye contact. He winked.

I didn’t catch the meaning of Andrei’s wink until I realized—Shay and I were alone in the car together. It felt... strange. During our previous Giant Killings, we were always too focused on survival, too unsafe for moments like this. But now, after pulling off that stunt at One Bonifacio, it was different. A rush of pride mixed with something I couldn’t quite name. Being alone with her felt strange like something had shifted. Should I say something?

“Let’s get out of here,” I said, the words slipping out with a weight I hadn’t intended. It sounded bigger than I meant it to. “I mean... just get away from all this, take our minds off the city for a bit.”

Shay gave me a tired smile but didn’t say anything. I could tell the exhaustion was catching up to her. Her eyes fluttered shut before she leaned her head against the window and drifted off to sleep.

The silence in the car grew heavier with her sleeping next to me. I felt a strange sense of calm mixed with a nagging unease. Alone with my thoughts, I started to realize that getting “out of here” wasn’t just about the city. It was about this life—the choices I’d made and the ones I couldn’t undo.

I drove south, the adrenaline still rushing through me. The billboard stunt had been a win, but I needed more. Proving myself meant more than hijacking a screen. I kept glancing at Shay, curled up in the passenger seat, her soft breaths a reminder of the stakes we were facing. There was no easy way out of this world, not for her, and not for me.

My hands tightened on the wheel as I wondered how much longer we could keep this up.

She stirred a time later, rising and stretching. “Where are we going?”

“Taal,” I said. “It will be beautiful at sunset.”

She shook her head, smiled, and fell back to sleep.

It was worth the trip, though, my God.

I stopped at an overlook with what seemed like a hundred others, leaving Shay in the car as I stepped out to see the view. It peered over Taal Lake, the tip of the enormous shield volcano poking out of the water. The horizon bled orange. Selfie drones scurried all over. I must have been caught in a dozen pictures, but I didn’t care.

Shay was still asleep on the way back to the safe house, curled up in the passenger seat like a baby fresh from the womb.

We were somewhere in Santa Rosa when I saw the police car nestled on the roadside. I gave it a wide birth and continued on my way until I saw the flashing red and blue lights. I thought he had just received a call about someone else speeding, so I pulled over, giving him enough room to pass.

He stopped behind me. He got out.

“Jayson?” asked Shay, murmuring with her head down.

“Shhh,” I said. I wished she had stayed asleep. I wished I had dropped her off first.

The officer’s shotgun hung from a strap on his back. He tapped on my window with a flashlight. “Sir?” he asked. “Sir?”

I rolled down the window. “Hey, sir?” I kept my voice steady.

“Your car is off the fleet network.” The officer smiled. “Do you have any idea how that would have happened?”

He was implying that it was a technical glitch. At least half of the cars in Manila were on the fleet network, meaning they were shared and not owned by anyone.

“I own this,” I said.

“Do you?” He scanned me. “You look awfully young to own this.”

“My mother is very wealthy.” It wasn’t a lie.

“Ah, so it’s not your car. It’s your mother’s.”

I didn’t know whose name it was under. I hadn’t thought about that. I just wanted to drive.

The officer caught me in my hesitation and smiled wider. “How about this? If you convince me, I’ll look over the fact that you ripped this car from the fleet or stole it from its owner.” He thumbed his shotgun strap. “God forbid a kid like you should end up in jail.”

I wasn’t a kid anymore; I was 23. Damn, though. I sure felt like one now.

Ironically, we never got caught ripping cars from the fleet using Reggie’s multo script. Only now that I had my vehicle did it become suspicious.

I was not an idiot, though. I knew the officer didn’t want to be convinced with words.

I lifted Shay’s hand, and upon seeing the officer, she gasped and sat straight up. This was the wrong move.

The officer shined the flashlight in her eyes. “Why so skittish, ma’am? You on something?”

“No, no, no,” Shay urged. “No, I was just-”

“What?”

I had to end the conversation quickly. I searched through the armrest compartment for the brick of bills I always took with me.

It wasn’t there. I must have left it back at the mansion.

I turned toward the officer. “Sir, I-”

He was pissed, I could tell. He sneered at me, dropped the flashlight, and stepped back. “Step out of the car, sir.”

What choice did we have? I got out while Shay stayed inside.

The officer walked me to the front of his squad car and presented his handcuffs. “Poor kid,” he said, “so young to waste your life stealing.”

“I’m not stealing.” I felt the youthful urge to punch this guy straight in the face and drive away from all this.

“Sure, sure.” He moved the cuffs to my wrists.

I thought about failing my mother and the new life I had been introduced to, only to let it slip away. I thought about not deserving anything in life besides poverty.

Red and blue lights flashed down the road. The incoming police car did not turn on its sirens. The officer perked up and crooked his head.

A black PNP police van pulled in next to the cruiser. A woman stepped out, uniformed and with the reddest hair I had ever seen. She was a foreigner, which was strange. I had never seen a foreign PNP officer. Was that even allowed?

She held something in her hand. The officer saw it a second too late.

The woman brought the pistol up, its silenced barrel wide. She fired straight at his heart. The officer stumbled back and fell to the ground. It was like clockwork, a process long rehearsed and practiced.

She squatted next to the body. “Get in the van, Jayson!” she called. Now!”

I almost did, but ran to the SUV and pulled Shay out first. We crowded into the back of the van, where more officers waited. None of them seemed interested in apprehending us.

The red-haired woman followed and shut the door. She slammed her van’s fist on the roof twice. We spun off.

“Sirens off!” she yelled and then looked at me. She raised her hand. “He had a bodycam, Jayson. Thank God he didn’t have time to upload the footage.” She shook her head. “Jeez. This is why I didn’t have kids.”

The van jerked. I saw the trees thickening outside. We were going further away from Manila, not closer.

I stayed close to Shay, watching her shiver under the van’s heavy AC. She seemed distant, and I knew better than to push.

“Who are you?” I asked the strange woman. “How do you even know my name?”

“Ah, yeah.” She offered a hand. “Hannah,” she said. “I know your mother.”

That explained it, but I still couldn’t peel my mind away. “You just killed that cop.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” This Hannah woman looked me over as she checked her pistol. “They didn’t give you a gun?”

“I didn’t think we need guns.”

“You’ve no idea the breadth of this operation, do you? Well, you will.” She sighed and looked outside. She frowned. “What’s that?”

I thought she was asking me.

“Helicopter,” said the driver.

“Shit!” Hannah threw open the window and looked outside. “Outrun it!”

“Can’t!” screamed the driver. “It sees us! It’ll be on us soon!”

Everything saw us, then, even the capture drones. They had emerged from the forest like neon blue firefly missiles. They came straight for our van, peering curiously inside and almost blocking the way down this narrow road. Neon locusts they were, making our position even more evident.

I wanted to scream. If I had just taken Shay home and laid low, this wouldn’t have happened. If I had just rented a room like I had thought of before, we could have dodged the PNP. I thought of the hundreds of decisions that led me to this point and how one mistake could ruin everything.

The capture drones, however, didn’t stay long.

First, one fluttered off, then another, and then another, until an entire stream of the machines sore upwards and away from us, as if losing interest or focusing on something more extraordinary.

“Where are they going?” asked Hannah.

“I don’t know!” the driver called, executing a turn.

Hannah didn’t wait for an explanation. She threw open the doors, and we saw it.

The helicopter shined its spotlight just behind us on the road. As it dragged closer to us, so too did the cloud of blue neon drones rise from the night, like a funnel to the heavens, heading straight for the helicopter. They did not slow.

The first light smashed into the helicopter and went dark. The second did the same. A sixth drone, a tenth drone, a twentieth. Dozens of the things threw themselves at the helicopter until it whirred, sputtered, and tilted on its side, smoking, its lights waving all over.

It leaned too far over, turned upside down, and fell from the sky.