Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 24

Ali ran.

He was a coward, so he ran. The mere resemblance of his father was enough to drive him from there, the place where his life began, and where it ended. He ran like he was being chased like a pack of wolves, although much more figuratively, his past.

His memory was a blur, but he managed to escape, asking no questions nor allowing himself the satisfaction of his luck. He didn't bother to find Fang. He didn't bother to backtrack his steps, to hide his tracks from the new generation of agents.

All he wanted was to run.

Were they still alive?

Do they still remember him? Are they even aware of his escape?

Snapping back to his senses, Ali found himself standing in the middle of a restaurant blankly, the design and interior still was what he'd remembered, only with little, yet extravagant differences. The cashier by the counter had the sheen of metal, and so did the waiters. The only human servers were sitting at the back, holding remotes to control the androids that now replaced human labor.

Around him, there wasn't much customers, random people scattered in different seats, of which were all entranced in the world of their mobile devices, seeming unaffected by his intrusion.

He stumbled backwards, startled, only to run into one of the android waiters, back hitting its hard body. Fortunately, it wasn't holding anything. It asked him, "Dining alone?"

Ali's entire body tensed with panic. Stiffly, he turned his head, only to see a lifeless, robotic head, with two dots and a curve that resembled a smile. Is this customer service? If he'd seen that firsthand, he would deem the place as a permanent no-go zone for him, but it appears that time did pass, after all.

"No—just checking out the place." Ali gritted his teeth, already beginning to walk out, eyes set on the blue sky ahead, the only thing that remained tranquil after all that's happened.

From the front, a figure stood from his table and set himself in Ali's way, broad chest blocking Ali's view. Ali was short, even for 13-year-old's standards, but the man that stood before him was physically honed, his physique well-equipped for battle, silhouette of uneven scars lining on his biceps.

Ali's lived long enough to see where this was going.

He looked up, his nervous stature fading to an unwavering glower, levelling Agent Fit down with his glare.

Only now he looked much older. He was wearing a gray, sleeveless shirt that exposed his biceps, lined with clean scars and fresh marks. Most of which looked like bullet grazes, but there were deep wounds that never healed properly.

"Thought they killed you," Fit growled, voice low so only their conversation won't be overheard.

Ali glared back, gritting his teeth so hard he felt his tooth crack. "I got better," he snarked. "I'm surprised you remembered me. Honestly? I'm flattered."

"They told us that you were executed." Fit glared back. "How can I forget the face of a traitor? You are the ultimate disgrace of MATA."

"I don't think your obsession over me is the problem here," Ali snapped. "Besides, I don't have time for this. Actually, hold that thought. I can stand here for a century and watch you and your gay boyfriend, who's named after most dogs, die of old age and bad backs and high blood pressure and type-2 diabetes, but I'd rather speed things up my way."

He was also surprised at how he could remember such insults. You'd think locking him up for so long, he would at least learn to shut up.

Fit didn't retort. Instead, he sunk back to his seat, sighing, which surprised Ali even more. The Techno agent was ruthless in many ways; volunteering to give IRIS NEO a test run, holding his own despite heavily wounded, and executed commands like any other professional. Throughout Ali's view for him, he was never the type to back down, to sigh in defeat after a loss.