“About time. If you had let me question them, it might have taken less than fifteen minutes. But hey, congratulations—you remind me of a hero from the comics,” the maid teased.
“Wait, really? How does the hero in your comic end?” Panji asked, genuinely curious.
“Eeee… um… he dies,” she replied, a sheepish grin spreading across her face.
Panji chuckled, a chill running down his spine despite himself. Panji thought, "Funny how stories always end the same way. One way or another, someone always pays the price."
Later, as they approached the sign for a nearby town, the usual Red Nation propaganda blared from large monitor – extolling the virtues of military service and the glory of the arena.
“This place looks pretty lively,” the hippie said, his eyes scanning the bustling streets.
“Alright, let’s go say hello to that cowboy,” Panji suggested, a glimmer of mischief quickly fading as he considered the situation.
“MOVE!” the maid interjected. “There are too many macho types. Five of us against a whole town?”
“Hmm. What are you thinking? We can wait for the convoy, or we can do this alone,” Panji replied, weighing their options.
“Let me tell you how it’s done. We wait until nightfall and send the kids to scout,” the maid proposed, a glint of cunning in her eyes.
“Using the kids? You’re pretty sneaky…” the hippie remarked.
“Hey, we’re at war now,” she shot back, her voice steely.
“If we use the kids, we’re no better than them,” Panji countered firmly.
“Huh? What are you talking about? I’ve heard Chrome’s stories about you. You’re too good for your own good. Do you want the truth, Panji? We’re all bad here. The reason you’re here is because you like it,” she said, crossing her arms defiantly.
Panji lowered his shades, contemplating her words. “I won’t deny it, but relying on the kids as spies seems like a terrible idea. We’ll attack under the cover of darkness. But not with the kids.”
“Sure, boss,” the maid replied, a smirk on her lips.
At night, the gang stealthily approached a building in the town, scouting their surroundings.
“It’s only six, but it looks like most of them are already asleep,” the hippie noted, peering through the shadows.
“Watch and learn,” the maid instructed, drawing her scythe with a flourish.
“Wait, aren’t you a pacifist?” Panji asked, eyebrows raised.
“Yeah, when I’m with the Iron Maidens. But here, in Justice, I can be myself. Hey… your sins are now mine too,” she replied, a playful glint in her eyes.
“Understandable…” Panji muttered, shaking his head.
Eventually, they found the bank.
“I think this is the only bank in town…” the hippie said, scanning the entrance.
They executed a series of silent takedowns on the guards before breaking into the cowboy’s office.
“HA! How did you get in here?” the man with cowboy exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock.
Before he could react, the cowboy dashed for the window, escaping onto the rooftops. Panji and the gang pursued him, leaping from building to building, but the cowboy found himself cornered at the last rooftop.
“Whoa, whoa… take it easy, man! Please… I still want to live!” he pleaded, panic etched across his face.
“Of course. Are you working alone? If you tell me the truth, I might make this quick,” Panji said, drawing his axe menacingly.
“Ha! No! Please…” the cowboy whimpered, backing away from the edge.
“There’s someone from the media… they offered me money to sabotage the bridge…” he admitted, desperation creeping into his voice.
“Let me guess… to send the convoy on another route?” the maid shot back, crossing her arms.
“Exactly! Please, spare me!” the cowboy begged, falling to his knees.
“What are you talking about?” Panji pressed.
“The media has an alliance with a gang called Corp… they’re affiliated with mercenaries from the state!” the cowboy confessed, trembling.
“Interesting. Is that all?” Panji probed further.
“I’m telling you the truth! Please!” the cowboy cried, tears welling in his eyes.
Panji felt a surge of anger but paused, contemplating the situation.
“What about the kids you sent to plant bombs on the bridge?” Panji demanded.
“Oh… please…” the cowboy stammered, fear gripping him.
“Wrong move,” Panji said, and with a swift kick, he sent the cowboy tumbling off the rooftop. The cowboy’s body landed with a sickening thud on the ground below, drawing the attention of nearby civilians.
Stolen story; please report.
“If I were you, I’d chop him up first and then throw him down,” the maid laughed darkly.
Some guards spotted Panji standing over the dead body but hesitated to confront him.
Later, in the cowboy’s office room, the hippie found something interesting.
“Hey, look at this!” he exclaimed, holding up a document.
“What is it?” Panji asked, leaning closer.
“It’s the address for the Free World Media… and I found some cash!” the hippie said, excitement bubbling in his voice.
“Good… we’re getting closer,” Panji replied, feeling a sense of purpose.
Suddenly, a guard walked in,they armed with rifle, and they surprised to see Panji. “Wow… you really killed him, huh?”
“Yeah…” Panji replied, crossing his arms.
“How did you pull off all that? A… kung fu ninja move?” the guard asked, curiosity evident in his tone.
“I’m just being myself. Listen, why was that cowboy able to control this town?” Panji inquired.
“Well, it all started when…” the guard began, launching into a long, tedious history.
After what felt like an eternity, the maid sighed. “Heh… so, to sum it up, the cowboy was an investor, and he had rights to your property and then your bank. Can you skip all the boring details?”
“Sure,” Panji said, rolling his eyes.
“Hey, do you know the kids near the bridge?” he asked.
“Of course. They’re street kids who usually steal around here,” the guard replied.
“Hey, can you send them leftover food? There’s plenty of wasted food in your dumpsters,” Panji suggested, his voice earnest.
The guard looked taken aback. “Sure, I can do that. But why do you care?”
“Because they deserve better,” Panji said, a fire igniting in his chest. “We’re not just fighting for ourselves; we’re fighting for everyone who’s been oppressed.”
As the guard nodded in agreement, Panji felt a renewed sense of purpose. Justice wasn’t just a name; it was a mission, a rallying cry for all those who yearned for freedom.
And with each step forward, they would carve a path to liberation, one fight at a time.
Later, they settled in the town before continuing their journey, gathering in the maid's room.
“Hey, cowboy. Didn’t I tell you this room is mine?” the maid teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
Panji responded by playfully shoving a cowboy hat onto her head. “Shut up…”
“Hihih… you really don’t care about Vita, do you?” she pressed, a knowing smile on her lips.
Panji sighed, closing the door behind him. “You wouldn’t understand…”
The next morning, the atmosphere was thick with anticipation. they start rode again
“Women always seem to like long-haired guys who can play guitar,” the hippie mused, strumming absentmindedly.
“Not always. They usually go for the playboys,” the maid replied, taking a sip of her drink.
“Who’s the Lord at Red Summer?” Panji asked, his curiosity piqued.
“He’s my master… isn’t that clear?” she said, raising an eyebrow.
“No, I mean the history behind him and his connection to Eden,” Panji clarified, pushing for more information.
“Ahhh, that comes at a price,” she teased, tapping her cheek.
“Sorry, my mouth is still busy,” he replied, stuffing a piece of bread into it.
“You missed… well.. eden is her first maid.. but after zion arrive. he split the fertile one, well you the detail next.. so years later. farm changed eden.. and this two lover split because.. complicated matter”
panji then munch munch. seems not really understand but nod to it
Later on, the hippie approached Panji with concern. after not united with the rest of convoy “How’s it going with them, Panji?”
“Uh… still no news,” he admitted, rubbing his forehead. “I swear I can’t think right now…”
“Why don’t we meet them at this crossroads?” the hippie suggested, pointing at the map.
“Good idea. We’ll meet them faster that way…” Panji agreed, feeling a spark of hope.
“Yeah, but we’ll have to pass through some tunnels under the mountain,” the hippie added, a hint of caution in his tone.
Before they could set off, a boy approached them, holding out a fish.
“Hey, riders…” the boy said, offering it to Panji.
“Thanks! So you can catch fish now?” Panji asked, surprised.
“Of course!” the boy replied proudly.
“Good. Then…” Panji handed the boy the necklace he had taken earlier. “Where did you get this?”
“Oh, this? It’s just a pendant for luck. We usually find those little robot bugs by the river… if you want it, take it,” he said, shrugging.
Later, in the dark tunnel, Panji pondered aloud. “I’m thinking… am I really helping them, or are they helping me?”
“Hey, just ask your heart, man,” the hippie said with a chuckle.
“Of course, the heart… but if your heart is dark, you won’t get anything,” the maid interjected, her laughter echoing ominously. “Hhooh hohohoh…”
They reached the end of the tunnel and were met with a barricade manned by soldiers and jeeps.
“Drop your weapons!” a soldier barked, raising his rifle.
“Fuck!” Panji exclaimed, his heart racing.
“Die, government dog!” the hippie shouted, pulling out his gun. But before he could fire, the soldier shot him instantly.
“This is your last warning. Or you’ll end up like your friend,” the soldier threatened, his eyes cold.
“Alright…” Panji said, his mind racing as he dropped his weapon and dismounted from his motorcycle.
“Good… lie down. Hands behind your head. Now! Hurry up!” the soldier ordered.
Panji complied, hitting the ground as the soldier approached to handcuff him. The rest of the gang followed suit, surrendering as fear gripped them. Just before the soldier pulled off Panji’s mask, the last thing he saw was the maid’s face, a mix of determination and concern etched into her features.
In the dimly lit room, tension hung thick in the air.
“So, that’s how it is,” Bartoleme said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I really don’t know what to do with you.”
“Yeah… so you’re here just to keep the town from rebelling?” Panji replied, his voice steady.
“Exactly. Now, what about Justice?” Bartoleme pressed, his gaze challenging.
Panji took a deep breath, weighing his words. “We’re heading to Los Angeles to seek clarification from the Free World Media. Listen, man… you can’t intimidate me. I’m going there, no matter what.”
“Soldiers don’t play politics. Maybe I’ll let you go,” Bartoleme shrugged, a hint of amusement in his eyes.
“Really? Cool…” Panji replied, a flicker of hope igniting within him.
after long pause, Panji faced Bartoleme again. “So if the explosion wasn’t the army’s doing, who was it?”
“I don’t know. That’s not my concern,” Bartoleme replied, a dismissive wave of his hand.
Panji tilted his head, intrigued. “Huh? Ahhh? Interesting…”
“Look, man. This isn’t my town. I couldn’t care less. My heart and eyes are only for Las Vegas,” Bartoleme said, shrugging off the implications.
“Understandable…” Panji replied, the pieces of the puzzle beginning to fit together in his mind.
He just encountered Bartoleme, one of Zion's vassals. Panji found him pretty unprofessional, but hey, it worked in his favor. Bartoleme ended up freeing all the Justice members, giving them the green light to head to LA.
On the road, the rest of Justice sped away from Bartoleme’s roadblock, the wind whipping past them.
“Poor Hippie… I was starting to like his glasses,” the maid said, her voice a bit somber.
“Hey, darling… don’t I wear glasses too?” Panji shot back, teasingly.
“Sorry, Panji, but his glasses just looked cooler to me,” she admitted with a light laugh.
“Understandable…” Panji replied, shaking his head with a smile.
“Eh… not really. Maybe I liked his personality,” she confessed, her tone softening.
“Are you not going to cry, are you?” Panji teased, feeling his heart lighten.
The maid sniffed, a small tear in her eye, but she quickly covered it with a playful pout. “No… not at all…”
Later, the convoy finally united as they rolled into formation.
“Hey, Red Devil… umm, I’m still mourning for Vita,” Chrome said, his voice heavy with loss.
“Yeah…” Panji replied, the weight of grief settling between them.
“But during the journey, I picked up some intel. We’ve been frequently attacked by the Diablos gang,” Chrome continued, his tone serious.
“Why is that?” Panji asked, curiosity piqued.
“Not sure… besides the bounty, there’s probably an ideological motive. Most of them used to be mercs, just like us” Chrome explained.
“Ohh… I see. Were there many casualties?” Panji pressed, concern flickering in his eyes.
“Yeah, we lost a lot of good people. But you’ve seen it yourself—others have joined Justice along the way,” Chrome said, trying to stay optimistic.
“Interesting… what motivates these new recruits?” Panji inquired.
“Varied reasons. Some idolize you. Others have a grudge against the media, some just crackhead” Chrome replied.
“Right… we don’t have time to question them one by one. Los Angeles is close. Justice, let’s roll!” Panji declared, revving his engine as the convoy surged forward.
The convoy pressed westward, the setting sun casting long shadows across the desolate landscape. Wrecked vehicles and scattered debris littered the roadside, grim reminders of the wasteland's harsh realities. They rode for what felt like hours, the landscape a monotonous blur of sand and broken asphalt.
After they passed a particularly large stretch of debris—a veritable junkyard stretching as far as the eye could see—Chrome pulled alongside Panji. “Hold up,” he said, his voice tight. “There’s a wreck up ahead. Looks suspicious.”
Panji squinted, spotting the twisted metal silhouette against the darkening sky. “Diablos?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised,” Chrome replied grimly. “They’ve been hitting us hard lately. We need to check it out.”
Panji signaled the convoy to slow. He gestured to Flick, one of the newer recruits. “Flick, go take a look. Be careful.”
Flick cautiously approached the wreckage, his hand hovering near the pistol at his hip. He circled the vehicle, his eyes scanning the ground. He stopped abruptly, his breath catching in his throat. “Guys… get back! There’s something under the hood!”
Panji and Chrome exchanged a tense look and dismounted, approaching the wreckage cautiously. Flick pointed to a tangle of wires snaking out from under the hood, leading to a crude bomb strapped to the engine block. A small digital timer glowed red: 00:03:17.
“Diablos,” Chrome growled, his jaw tight. “They’re getting bolder.”
A cold dread settled in Panji’s stomach. Less than four minutes. This wasn't some simple intimidation tactic; this was meant to kill. He glanced back at the others. Some of the Iron Maidens were huddled together, chanting softly in circle and their hands clasped. He noticed they were swallowing small pills. He rolled his eyes; it was probably the reason for their erratic behavior. A few of the other Justice members were nonchalantly playing cards nearby, seemingly oblivious to the danger. He gritted his teeth. This wasn’t a goddamn party.
“Chrome, with me! Flick, keep watch!” Panji barked, his voice sharp and urgent. He grabbed a piece of scrap metal and began carefully trying to pry open the hood, while Chrome examined the wiring, searching for a way to disarm the device. The clock ticked down: 00:02:58. Every second felt like a lifetime.