Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 2

"What are you going to do with them?" Ali demanded, slamming his hands on the cafeteria table. Though being through thick and thin with the two immortals, he could barely contain his outburst, his body trembling, fists clenched with anger. "Why didn't you just send them back?"

The table, despite being welded to the floor, shook and vibrated, scattering Boboiboy's pens all over the floor, and Fang's papers to be disorganized. Boboiboy leaned down to retrieve his writing utensils, graciously ignoring Fang's loud curses as he repeatedly rearranged his documents in alphabetical order.

"Honestly, I don't know." Boboiboy sat back up, uncapping his pen, but frowned as the ink refused to cooperate after experiencing such a fall. He shook the stationery violently, as do all the students do after their pens had survived a fall.

Fang coughed to catch Ali's attention, holding papers in both hands, his eyes fixed onto them. He handed one of them to Boboiboy, who accidentally ran it through with his ballpoint pen.

The shadow manipulator's eye twitched as Boboiboy held the document, now in shreds, and signed it anyway.

"Guys, I'm serious!" Ali burst, sitting down across them. "Why are you using paper anyway? We have computers!"

"I wish," Boboiboy snapped. "Some planets still don't have the facilities to send us data through binary. I had to sign a parchment made of goatskin last week! Best we could do is send them paper and ink until we find the resources to provide them with basic WiFi and a computer. But we can't do that until we stop wasting our resources on Earth!"

He didn't mention it, but there was a hidden meaning that he was talking about Fang's obsession over MATA.

If Fang caught it, he didn't react.

"We're both occupied," Fang said, ignoring Boboiboy's jab. "Ali, since you're in charge of criminals and interrogation, you're now responsible of those MATA agents."

Ali blinked, haven't heard him right the first time. He whipped his head to the two, but the had resumed their long journey of paperwork, a dreadful adventure with none of the excitement and fulfilment.

"Are you serious?" he demanded, clutching his head as he sunk deeper into his seat. "You can't be. I'm not dealing with those two. Not now."

Fang frowned, setting his papers down. He looked up to Ali, his gaze one of parenting and lectures.

"If not now, then when?" he asked. "They're human. If you wait, then it'll be too late for them. One of them is already in his midlife crisis on whether he's able to get married or he's going to die alone. And if you don't do anything, they're going to escape one way or the other and slither back to MATA."

"Then why me?" Ali argued. "There's plenty of ranks that specialize in these kinds of criminal management."

"It's you because you're training to be vice Corporal."

Ali had no words. The conversation ended there, with a responsibility that Ali never wanted, and two lives now hanging on his shoulders.

Later that day, Ali accosted Boboiboy in his room, which the brunette was lying on his bed, arms crossed behind his head as he stared at the screen, which he'd lodged the tablet between the slabs of the upper bunk.

The doors to his room hissed shut, and weren't accessible unless you had the password, but Boboiboy didn't jump to his sudden intrusion, nor did he even bother to react at all.

"I can't do it!" Ali cried, but all Boboiboy did was turn his head lazily, not bothering to move from his position.

"Why so?" Boboiboy turned his eyes back to the screen, now reflecting neon colors on his face. "Don't you hate MATA? This is a perfect chance for you."

"Of course I hate MATA, but that's my uncle! And the guy I knocked out last year," Ali debated. "Isn't it a policy to forbid staff to help family members?"

"That's Earth rules. Here, we don't care who you help as long as they don't treat customer service like crap or tear down the place," Boboiboy refuted. "You should know by now. Are you just looking for excuses to skip out on this?"

The elemental manipulator hummed, not tearing his eyes from the video he was watching.

"You're in charge. If you really hate it, then you can send them back to Earth."

Ali paled. "I—I can't just send them back! They've seen our facilities and—"

"I didn't say you should send them back alive, but then again, you can send them back by kicking them into space. Those space parasites haven't had a good meal in years."

"They can't breathe in space!"

"Even better."

Ali left Boboiboy's room, his own reflection reflecting on the doors as they closed shut. He daren't look to see his face, in fear of what he would see. Fear? Anger? He didn't know anymore. His jaw clenched, as did his fists, and he stormed back to his room, his bangs untucking themselves and returning to the front of his face.

What should he do? Should he send him back? If they were obedient, they could stay here, and he wouldn't have a reason to kill them. On the other hand, letting them remain here did pose a threat, especially if MATA wasn't lenient on letting enemy corporations take their own for prisoners.

Even if he sent them back to Earth, they would have subtle information of TAPOPS's condition. Their resources were running dry, which Fang was trying to restore them back into order, hence the endless paperwork and meetings. There was no insurance that they weren't wearing hidden cameras that recorded their every move.

What was he supposed to do?

"You're young. I get it. You still don't know how to deal with situations like these," Fang waved his hand as if he was shooing a fly, while suffering from a migraine he'd gotten from various entitled rulers from his meetings, and Ali walking into his room isn't doing him any favors.

Ali looked down, suddenly ashamed that he was disturbing him at his rest time. "My bad," he muttered, looking down.

He felt a hand on his head, which he looked up to see Fang smiling at him, his hand on Ali's head, ruffling his hair.

"Ali, I know you care for Earth and your friends, and you aren't wrong. It's natural." Fang put his hand on his shoulder, tone suddenly serious and solemn. "But, if push comes to shove, don't let past memories cloud your judgement. If they aim to destroy us, then you must act."

Fang was dead serious, and Ali knew it in his bones. He'd trained with him for months, and despite not understanding most his motives and thoughts, simple gestures and meanings were clear to him like day.

"I know," Ali said. He knew Fang was trying to look out for the benefit for the majority. He'd learned this through the course of his time here, where even if Fang was looking for minimum injuries and/or casualties, he wouldn't hesitate to leave anyone behind, but it was always preferably himself.

The shadow manipulator nodded, satisfied with his answer. "Come," he said, gesturing to a stack of papers. "It's time you know how to handle official documents."

If Fang could read minds, he would be deaf. Ali's ability to scream internally was enough to drive mind readers in a hundred-meter radius insane.

Still, Ali still sat on Fang's bed, sitting beside him and listening attentively as Fang went through each key point with him, as if he's lecturing for upcoming exams.

It was boring, dull, no doubt about it. But it was their time they spent together that made it special. For some reason, Ali felt comfortable around Fang. He'd given him the same impression of his mother when he was a mere toddler.

Subconsciously, a faint smile crept up Ali's face, one of satisfaction and one that would appear on a child who is loved by their parents and was grateful for it.

Maybe Ali wasn't abandoned by the world after all.