The news about Lance Dizon was still the main event at the local market, but back at the shop, Chano was already living in the aftermath. He knew the "X" he'd flashed on those screens wasn't just a signature; it was a flare gun fired into a dark sky. He was waiting for the wolves to show up.
He didn't have to wait long.
A white Maybach—a car that had no business being within ten miles of San Pedro's potholes—crawled to a stop out front. It looked like a diamond dropped in a dustbin.
A woman stepped out, looking like she'd just finished a high-stakes board meeting in Makati. Isabella "Bella" Aragon didn't belong in a place that smelled like fried grease and burnt wires. Behind her was a guy named Marco. He had that specific, restless stillness of a man who'd seen a lot of combat.
Chano didn't even look up from his circuit board. "Closed. Come back when the sun's down."
Bella's heels clicked across the concrete, a sharp, rhythmic sound that felt like a countdown. She looked at the grime on the walls with a visible wince. "I'm not here for a repair. I'm looking for the person who shredded the Valderama servers last night."
Chano finally set his iron down. "Valderama? Sounds like a soap opera. You've got the wrong shop, lady. I fix screens and sell load."
She leaned over the bench. The smell of her expensive perfume was suffocating in the small space. She leaned in, her voice barely a breath.
"Xy."
Chano's face remained a blank wall. "Cute name. But like I said, I'm just a tech. There's a Starbucks three blocks over if you're looking for someone with a laptop."
Marco, who'd been playing the silent wall by the door, finally cracked. "Xy... is that really you?"
Chano's hands stilled for a fraction of a second. It was the only tell he gave, but for Marco, it was enough. Chano looked at him, really looked at him this time. "Who's Xy? The locals call me Chano. You're scaring off my customers."
"You don't remember me? Batch 7," Marco said, stepping closer. "We thought you were a ghost. Everyone said you went down in Singapore five years ago."
Chano leaned back, his plastic chair creaking under the weight. The "Chano" mask slipped, and his voice dropped into a register that sounded like grinding stones. "Marco. Leave. If you want to keep that quiet life you've built, walk out that door and forget this place exists."
Bella wasn't deterred. "I'm not going anywhere. My company is being gutted by a Level 5 siege. If we don't stop the leak, thousands of people lose everything. You're the only one who can crack the wall they've built."
"Not my circus, not my monkeys," Chano replied. "I'm out of the game."
"The people behind this... they're Scorpion Group," Bella said.
The name hit the room like a physical blow. Chano's jaw tightened until the bone showed. Scorpion. The ones who had turned his life into a series of shadows and scars.
"They're the ones doing this," Bella pushed, her voice trembling. "Are you really going to let them win again?"
Before he could answer, a black sedan screamed to a halt outside. Four guys in leather jackets piled out, and they weren't carrying subpoenas—they were carrying submachine guns.
"Damn it," Marco hissed, drawing a suppressed pistol. "They're here."
Chano didn't even blink. He reached under the desk, pulling out a mechanical keyboard that looked more like a weapon than a tool.
"Marco, hit the deck!"
"What—?"
"Just do it!"
As Bella and Marco dove for the floor, Chano hammered a sequence into the keys. Outside, the transformer on the pole hummed with a violent, dying screech.
BZZZZZT!
The streetlights didn't just go out; they detonated. A massive surge of electromagnetic energy slammed into the black sedan, frying its computer brain instantly. The airbags exploded outward, pinning the hitters against their seats before they could even level their guns.
Chano stood up, pulling a Glock from a magnetic mount behind his monitor. He looked at Bella, his eyes devoid of the "friendly technician" warmth.
"Fine. We go to Makati," he said, slapping a fresh mag into the grip. "But this is it. One job, then you lose my number forever. Understood?"
Bella nodded, her chest heaving. "Understood."
Marco looked at the smoking wreck of the sedan and then back at his old friend. "You're still a monster, 'tol. Some things never change."
Chano started toward the Maybach, his pace steady. "A lot has changed, Marco. I used to do this for a flag. Now? I'm just annoyed you ruined my Tuesday."