The Past of Aveline
Final Chapter
The rain fell mercilessly upon the city, landing on rooftops and transforming the streets into smooth stones and muddy waters. It was as if the world lamented with a million teardrops. Birds sought shelter from the woes of nature as the chilly haze of rain enveloped the cold afternoon.
Inside a vast warehouse, the clamor of battle echoed—a testament to the fight ahead. The relentless rain outside the glass window served as a silent observer to the fighter preparing for his significant battle. He launched a powerful kick into the air, struck a high rope, and jabbed a sandbag with a clenched fist. His resolve was firm; he harbored no fear of death. Streams of sweat flowed down his forehead, his muscular arms glistening with perspiration. Sharp grunts escaped him as he continued to unleash a flurry of punches.
Domeng wrapped the white bandage around his hand and delivered coordinated jabs into the air. "Adjust your footwork, Domeng. Practice the counter punch. Train your feet to evade the enemy," Tunying advised, clicking his tongue in dissatisfaction. Seated on the bench with a white towel around his neck and holding a stopwatch, his scrutinizing gaze followed every movement. Domeng nodded in acknowledgment, grunting with each forceful punch; he had been training for days. The thought of his daughter weighed heavily on him. Once a monster, a beast among hyenas, his brief taste of freedom had been a cruel twist of fate. With a heavy heart, he accepted his fate, resigned to carrying only fragments of memories.
Breathing heavily, Domeng persisted with his strikes. The continuous downpour outside, with raindrops trickling down the window, brought him a sense of calmness.
"That's enough!" Tunying's voice hardened as he spoke.
Domeng delivered a final blow. The bandages on his right hand loosened, his white shirt and black shorts soaked with sweat.
"Take a break!" Tunying tossed a white towel at him. "Get ready; tomorrow is your big fight." He sighed, his tone uncertain. He couldn't predict whether it would be Domeng's last fight. Today, he observed a different fighter, one that both scared and confounded him.
Left alone by Tunying, Domeng took a moment to rest on the bench and drank copiously from his water bottle. Lifting his gaze to the ceiling, he noticed pigeons perched in the corners. The corrugated roof, made of glass, allowed him to see the sky and hear the echo of rain inside the warehouse. It sounded like a symphony of a million drums, as if all the drummers in the world had convened for a concert atop the roof.
Noticing a leak in the ceiling, he extended his hand to catch the falling water, which felt like drops of tears. A smile crossed his face as he let the droplets fall silently into his palm. Standing up, he moved to the window to observe the world dissolving under the relentless rain.
"I miss you, papa," Aveline uttered in a hoarse whisper as she stared at the window. The rain slid on trees; the leaves hung limp while the world turned into tears. She fixed the white blanket embracing her body. Sitting on the floor, watching the rain from the window and forcing a smile amidst the chagrin of her sweet chocolate eyes.
Domeng looked at the glass window, the drizzling rain created fogginess on the surface He began to draw a face, a small circle with eyes and smiling lips on the window. When he was a child, he thought that the thunderstorm was like the raging sea when it was angry, it scared him. Right now, as he watched the sky, something about the sound soothed him, it gave him comfort and calmness to know that even nature needed to scream sometimes, needed to cry sometimes. He lightly touched the smiling face he drew on the window. "J-just s-smile. D-don't be s-sad. S-smile," he could only whisper his love through the storm.
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St. Theresa Orphanage.
"Now, form a line. Are you all wearing your costumes?" A middle-aged woman cheerfully asked as she adjusted her glasses after counting the children in front of her.
"Yesss, Sister Anne!" The children answered in unison. They were all dressed in their favorite costumes, including superheroes, magicians, and fairies. "Today, we're going to play in the garden. Are you ready?" Sister Anne announced, standing near the doorway.
"We're ready, Sister Annee!!" the children responded, bubbling with excitement.
Aveline's white wings fluttered in the breeze; she observed the branches of the trees swaying. Sunlight filtered through the leaves overhead, casting dappled shadows. Raising her hand, she watched the light dance between her fingers. Bowing her head, she took a deep breath, savoring the fresh air that carried falling leaves from the mango tree.
"Aveline, stay in line," Sister Anne gently reminded her.
"Yes, Sister Anne."
The children began to sing in the garden, forming a circle and holding hands. Aveline blinked as the wind caressed her face, her laughter ringing out joyfully. She gazed up at the sky to see a sparrow gliding gracefully, its feathers bristling against the wind, before disappearing into the horizon.
A red van stopped in front of the orphanage, its door releasing a loud thud as it opened. Two men emerged from the van, one of them smoking a cigarette. He inhaled deeply, the cigarette quickly dwindling.
With one last puff, he flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped on it with his black Converse shoe, crushing it until it was extinguished. He then nodded to his companion. Together, they donned masks and armed themselves with guns, entering the gates with dried blood on their shoes.
"W-who are you? What do you want?" Fear tinged Sister Anne's voice as she addressed the intruders.
"Shut up! Don't do anything stupid!" The man wearing Converse shoes aimed his gun at her. "Get the kid!" he ordered his companion.
The children shrieked as one man lunged at them, seizing the girl with a pair of wings and dragging her toward the van.
"Sister Anne!"
"No!" Sister Anne attempted to intervene, running after them bravely.
A gunshot rang out, sending the children into a panic.
"What the heck did you do? You didn't have to shoot her!" the man in Converse shoes shouted, his anger palpable.
"That woman had it coming!" his accomplice retorted with a sneer from behind his mask, then carelessly shoved Aveline into the van.
They scrambled back into the van, and as they closed the door and sped off, a solitary white feather was left behind, gently carried away by the wind.
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The night was starless, with the silver-white moon suspended above the remaining murky clouds. Darkness once again enveloped the sky. The city buzzed with life, illuminated by lights and filled with noise. Every corner had a story to tell, one among the thousands whispered by the glittering lights found in the darkness.
"Ah!" A man cried out in pain as he received powerful jabs to his face. His lips were split open, and his left eye was swollen shut. His opponent, face smeared with blood and even his bald head dripping with someone else's blood, grinned triumphantly.
"Finish him!" Raul, an obese man, bellowed from the audience.
The fight unfolded in the underworld's realms, held inside a warehouse at an isolated location. Security personnel, essentially a private army, were vigilant; all were on high alert. Tonight was set to be different, hosting the most significant fight among the warriors with millions at stake. Various items were scattered around the arena, all deadly: a chainsaw, knives, a pitchfork, and numerous sharp tools. Even construction materials were tossed into the ring. The venue was modeled after an ancient Roman Colosseum, with sand covering the ground instead of concrete.
"What are you waiting for? Kill him!" Raul impulsively slammed his fist onto the armchair. He was one of the mafia bosses, his empire controlling illegal drugs and firearms.
Hundreds of spectators watched intently. Bets were placed by everyone, with the lowest stake starting at three million pesos.
The crowd cheered for bloodshed, their uproar causing pigeons to scatter frantically in all directions. Tonight's madness turned the world into chaos, yet for the audience, it was as thrilling as a day at the zoo.
"Kill!" Raul shouted impatiently.
The bald fighter selected a sledgehammer and dragged it across the ground. He breathed heavily as he pulled it towards him, pausing beside his opponent lying on the ground. Then, with a grim determination, he lifted the sledgehammer high and brought it crashing down on his foe's face. The impact shattered the skull, scattering fragments of brain across the sandy floor.
Another life was sacrificed to the sands.
The crowd roared wildly, with mixed reactions resonating throughout the space. Some spectators expressed frustration, while others were visibly thrilled.
Gomez settled back into his seat and lit a cigarette. "What the heck!" he exclaimed, gritting his teeth in disappointment. He watched as his fallen fighter was dragged out of the ring. Turning to the man standing beside him, he demanded, "Is it ready?"
"Yes, Boss," the man nodded.
"Then what are you waiting for? Bring it here!" Gomez snapped, his voice laced with rage. He had already lost a significant amount of money. Losing another round could spell the end of his business. Suddenly, his phone rang. He checked the caller ID and grinned. "So, you're calling? You must be nervous now," he said, his voice dripping with brimming confidence.
"Gomez... Gomez... Gomez," Raul emphasized each word mockingly. He waved his hand in Gomez's direction, the vast arena separating them. "I know you're facing financial losses. I'm bored. How about we raise the stakes to a hundred million? Can you still keep up?" He sneered.
"Too confident, huh? You know what they say, don't celebrate too early. Prepare your bets and get ready for your fighter to be killed," Gomez retorted over the phone.
Raul let out a menacing laugh. "I know you don't have enough money, but let's just say I'm feeling generous. If I win, you'll give me your territory. I'm being too generous right now. For a hundred million, you give me everything."
"And if you lose?" Gomez asked, inhaling a cloud of smoke from his cigar, casting a skeptical glance in Raul's direction.
"Then you'll get a hundred million from me," Raul shrugged casually.
Gomez's jaw tightened as he clenched his fist. "I don't like your offer."
"Why not?" Raul challenged, locking eyes with him.
A lopsided grin spread across Gomez's face. "As much as I appreciate your 'generous' offer, Raul," he snickered, drawing out the word 'generous' sarcastically. "I'll take your deal if you throw in the streets of Avenida."
"Oh, you're really something, Gomez. Strapped for cash, yet greedy. How adorable," Raul laughed derisively, then gave him a thumbs-up. "Fine, I'll take your offer. But only if you're lucky."
Gomez ended the call abruptly. He flicked his cigarette into the ring. "If I fall, I'll drag you all to hell," he muttered angrily.
Tension soared as the next battle loomed on the horizon. The spectators cheered wildly, chanting the names of their favored fighters. Yet, amidst the clamor, one name stood out from the rest.
"Goliath! Goliath! Goliath!"
The famous fighter appeared, welcomed by the roaring spectators. Wearing only black fitted pants and white bandages wrapped around his hands, Domeng stood in the center of the arena. On the other side, Xerxes stepped onto the sands, his bare chest heavily stained with blood. He smiled and raised a hand to greet the loud cheers from the crowd.
The gong sounded.
Xerxes moved with agile steps and leaped like a panther, his fist colliding with Goliath's cheekbone. The impact forced Goliath's neck backward as if he were a branch caught in the wind. Xerxes then shaped his hands as though gripping an imaginary tennis ball and released a roundhouse kick, sending Goliath slumping to his knees. A smile of victory formed on Xerxes' lips, but a sigh of disappointment filled the air from the crowd.
"What the heck! Domeng! Get up!" Gomez stood in rage and turned to one of his men. "Bring it here! Now!"
Someone was dragged beside Gomez, the head was covered with a black cloth and wearing a pair of wings.
Domeng, resigned to his fate, was jolted by a familiar voice calling out from the screaming crowd.
"Papa!"
The audience erupted in cheers again. Pure terror was evident on Domeng's face.
As Xerxes attacked him, Domeng ducked under the second swing. He immediately stood up and swiftly evaded the attack. He dug his fingers into Xerxes' arms and punched his face. Suddenly, he became a beast in the eyes of Aveline. With his other hand, Domeng clutched Xerxes' windpipe, choking him with one hand, punching his face, and dropping him to the sands.
"P-papa!"
"Kill him, or I will blow her brains out!" Gomez yanked Aveline's hair and pointed a gun at the top of her head.
"Papa!!" Aveline cried in terror.
"Do it! Kill him now!" Gomez mercilessly pulled her hair.
"Kill! Kill!" The crowd was in a frantic mood. Slowly, Xerxes stood up. A new set of weapons was thrown into the sands.
"Kill him now!" Gomez shouted again, inserting the tip of the gun into her mouth, almost choking the child. Anger flickered in Domeng's eyes.
Goliath grasped a dagger and positioned himself behind Xerxes; he yanked Xerxes' hair upwards, forcing his gaze towards the moon. "End it now, Goliath," Xerxes pleaded, coughing up blood, the cold blade pressing against his throat.
A single tear trailed down Domeng's cheek. He gazed at Aveline, his eyes silently pleading with her to close hers.
But fear held her captive, her eyes wide open to the specter of death.
"Aaahhh!" Domeng's cry of remorse echoed as he slit Xerxes' throat. The pigeons scattered in panic, their frenzied flight mirroring the chaos below. Like Domeng and the other fighters, they too were prisoners, trapped within the confines of the ceiling.
Goliath faced the audience, his roar a desperate plea to halt the madness, but his cries fell on deaf ears.
The crowd celebrated death.
Blood poured from Xerxes' neck, and he collapsed onto the sand. Aveline witnessed the horror unfold before her, her lips trembling from the immense shock.
Raul smirked, then his gaze subtly shifted upward. A sniper lay concealed in a corner, awaiting a signal.
A second opponent entered the ring, the bald fighter who had won the first battle. The gun was aimed forcefully at Aveline, threatening Domeng. A smile of betrayal played on Gomez's lips. He had called the police force to raid the warehouse, positioning himself to become a state witness. By surrendering to the law, he aimed to crush his enemies and seize their territories. "Finish him Domeng, or else I will put a hole in her skull!" Gomez pressed the gun more firmly this time, showing no hesitation.
Meanwhile, outside the warehouse.
Mysterious figures moved stealthily around the corners. A team of law enforcement officers, clad in black boots, bulletproof vests, headgear, and masks, each armed with high-powered guns, prepared for action.
"Unit 4, move to the west side position," one officer whispered into his radio receiver, signaling his team to spread out.
"This is Unit 207 requesting backup. We have a 10-45...over," another officer relayed a coded message, his words crackling through the static of the receiver.
"10-4, on my way," the helicopter pilot responded, setting the GPS coordinates and nodding at the police officer beside him, ready to provide aerial support.
The crowd cheered.
The fight intensified, and Aveline's tears flowed endlessly.
The enemy wasted no time. He delivered a straight punch that made Domeng stumble, but Domeng managed to dodge another blow. He countered with a powerful strike to the bald fighter's face and landed a right hook that broke his nose. Then, wielding a dagger, Domeng turned aggressive, knowing he needed to end his opponent quickly to finish the game. However, the bald fighter threw sand into Domeng's eyes, blinding him momentarily. Seizing the opportunity, he grabbed a metallic chain and wrapped it tightly around Domeng's neck, his eyes gleaming sinisterly as he began to choke Goliath.
Raul glanced at the sniper and gave a nod, signaling the shot. A bullet silently hit Domeng's spleen. Domeng cried out in pain as blood oozed from his side, forcing him to the ground. The enemy punched him in the face and tightened the grip around his neck.
Desperately, Domeng groped under the sand, searching for a weapon until he found another dagger. Without hesitation, he stabbed the enemy's eye to loosen his grip. He drove the dagger deep into the eye socket until his adversary could no longer breathe. Karma acted swiftly in retribution; the sniper made a careless move, dropping one of his belongings into the crowd, drawing the attention of Gomez's men.
Shots were fired into the air.
The sniper, struck down, fell to the floor like a lifeless bird, and the conflict erupted. In this lawless jungle, the hyenas turned on their own. "Screw you!" Gomez shot in Raul's direction.
Aveline ran towards her father.
Gunshots cracked through the air like thunder, with bullets flying in every direction, tearing through flesh, boring holes, and spewing blood into the air. Gomez attempted to flee, but karma acted swiftly, and he was shot in the head.
"Papa! Let's go home. Wake up, wake up!" Aveline knelt in the sand, shaking his shoulder. Domeng slowly opened his eyes and smiled at her, cupping her cheeks gently. His strength was fading; he struggled to rise, ignoring the pain and the relentless bleeding from his spleen. Domeng sat on the ground, pulling her into a tight embrace to shield her from the bullets. He had also been shot in the liver by the sniper, a critical injury that left him with only a few minutes to live.
The glass roof shattered, raining down fragments as a helicopter hovered overhead. A team of law enforcers descended, firing their weapons amidst the chaos. Domeng hugged Aveline tighter to protect her from the falling debris.
"Let's go home, Papa," Aveline whispered through her tears.
"F-find the Q-queen. S-she will love y-you. B-be the s-sparrow," Domeng whispered, tears streaming down his face as the shadow of death drew nearer. He wrapped Aveline in his embrace, pouring all his remaining love into the hug, her pristine white feathers now marred with blood. The chill of death began to seep into his body, his eyelids growing increasingly heavy. Yet, through it all, the father managed a tender smile, gathering the last of his strength to savor Aveline's presence one final time. He hummed a soothing melody, aiming to alleviate her fears. The din of gunfire receded from Aveline's awareness; she was enveloped solely in the comforting sound of her father's humming.
Flashes of joyous moments brightened Domeng's fading consciousness. He reminisced about the day Aveline took her first steps, the sweetness of her calling him "Papa" for the first time—a memory that marked the happiest day of his life. As he continued to hum the melody, he softly stroked her hair, allowing the flood of memories to wash over him. He vividly recalled her excitement on her first day of school, her cheerful declaration, "I'm excited to go to school, Papa!"
Memories of consoling her, drying her tears, and coaxing smiles onto her face filled his mind. Despite the encroaching smoke and gunfire, Domeng kept humming. He remembered the nights spent reading bedtime stories, Aveline's innocent proclamation, "You will always be my hero in all my fairy tales," echoed in his heart. Memories of dancing with her, the sound of her laughter—a balm to his weary soul—flitted through his mind. He thought back to the serene moments they shared watching the sunrise and sunset, "It's beautiful, Papa," she had said.
These snippets of happiness with Aveline played in his mind, even as death beckoned. A stray bullet, its path slow and inevitable, followed the pull of gravity directly toward him. With a voice weakened by impending demise, Domeng offered his final words to his beloved daughter, "I-I will always love you." The bullet found its mark in his lung, a trickle of blood staining his back. He inhaled a labored breath. In his lifetime riddled with battles, he discovered peace in these final moments with Aveline. The murmurs of the sea filled his ears, the fragrance of flowers wafted around him, and the gentle caress of the wind whispered farewells. His embrace around Aveline gently loosened; his hands, once strong and protective, slid down her soft, bloodstained feathers.
Aveline collapsed onto the sands as the universe silently observed from above. Pigeons ascended toward the heavens, their feathers drifting quietly through the air to gently land upon the dead bodies. The moon could only watch the mournful sight.
As the story unfolds, Aveline's dark fairy tale begins. Once upon a time, she awoke from her slumber with no memory of her past, finding herself in a new orphanage governed by dark souls. A man clad in a police uniform sold her into prostitution.
Inside the shadows of a forgotten room, shrouded in darkness, a figure was tormented by haunting memories. "Forgive me, forgive me," he murmured over and over, tears streaming down his face as he sat alone.
This man, once a kidnapper, now found himself trapped in a prison of his own making.
"Ensure Domeng's victory! If he fails, your life is at stake!" he remembered Gomez's chilling threat, a command that echoed endlessly in his mind.
"Yes, yes, I understand. I will do what is necessary," he had stammered, a mixture of fear and resolve marking his voice.
Those words, exchanged with Gomez, lingered as vividly as if spoken just moments ago, etching a deep scar in his conscience.
"I'm so terribly sorry. I-I can no longer protect her," he lamented, his voice breaking as he faced the walls. He tugged at his hair in anguish and cried like a child.
"Forgive me! I'm sorry... I'm sorry," he pleaded to the indifferent walls, his apologies flowing as freely as his tears. His body was wracked with uncontrollable sobs, interrupted by bouts of laughter that signaled a mind on the brink of collapse. "Forgive me!!" His screams echoed in his head, the voices from his memories tormented his mind. "I'm sorry...I'm sorry," he begged again to the wall, and then he wept. Hysterical sobs shook his thin frame, and then he laughed again and again until he could no longer hold onto his sanity. Before he lost his mind, he could only remember his name, and everybody called him Tunying.
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