"Lies leave bruises that will never fade away"
Fire Dragon is an underground fight club well known for their bloody fights and almost no rules. Earth "the shadow" Pirapat is Fire Dragon's best fighter. Having grown up in the club, it would be surpri...
— when you feel the blood rushing through your veins... that's when you are the most alive —
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One more word left, and then Mix could press publish and watch Thailand waking up into another morning filled with rotten politics and even more rotten politicians.
Investigating illicit political affairs wasn't Mix's favourite thing to do; he was doing much better with heavier crimes... like murder. After all, the murder of his father, fifteen years ago, was the primary reason why Mix decided to choose the path of investigative journalism.
The only reason why he didn't choose to be a detective or something else close to the criminal world was because of his mother. Going for investigative journalism was as close as Mix was allowed to get to the world of crime without his mother becoming too worried.
Mix understood her. She lost her husband because of a murder. Murder which was well-planned and even better executed. The problem was that Mix's mother didn't know. She had no idea how dangerous being an investigative journalist can actually be. And Mix was glad. He wanted to keep it like that, preferably till the day his mother would peacefully die in her sleep.
She didn't need to know that her son almost died twice in the last four years he had been out of the university, pursuing his "dream" life of investigative journalism.
Mix squeezed his left shoulder, still feeling pain at the place where the bullet hit him during a gang shooting on the night streets of Bangkok about a year ago. Mix chuckled and shook his head in disbelief. "What a night," he whispered into his dark and lonely apartment.
A couple of weeks after the shooting, he exposed the entire chain of gangs in poor parts of Bangkok that were working with some of the most influential leaders of the country on an elaborate drug trafficking scheme. With one article, a handful of evidence, and a bullet in his shoulder, Mix threw the entire country into an existential crisis, receiving blessings and death threats daily after that. The good thing was that his mother didn't know how to use the internet very well and his face actually never appeared on TV.
Mix was quite thankful to his boss, Sierra Veta, a renowned investigative journalist who had been in this business for three decades. Long enough to know the dangers it brings. Sierra protected Mix's identity by making sure his face wouldn't appear on TV as long as he didn't want that, as well as letting Mix choose his pen name. Mix would be in way graver danger if his face would appear on TV every time after exposing someone. As for his pen name, every article that included very sensitive information was always signed simply by M.W.. Working in the biggest journalistic agency in Thailand was enough to guarantee Mix's credibility.
Mix scanned the article with his eyes one more time just to make sure that everything was correct before he hit publish just as the clock struck 6 in the morning.
Massaging his temples, Mix closed his laptop and groggily shuffled himself from his living room to his bedroom, where he plopped down on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.
