Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 3

Ali paced around the halls, arms crossed in deep thought. Even if he'd wandered the area for an hour now, he still can't decide on his final option, mind dredging in an endless spiral, never seeing the end of his journey.

Should he?

Or should he not?

Rather focused on the big picture, he was more worried of their reactions than anything else. Humans will die off eventually, but once they do, any embarrassing moment of yours they'd experienced will never get full closure.

He minded this even more so when one of them was his former family, and the other a former enemy.

What would they say? Ali fretted, fingers cinching his sleeves tighter. The air conditioning in the station was cold, but he felt as if he'd plunged into the Arctic seas wearing nothing but a pair of shorts.

His palms sweated, though they weren't truly moist, only a trained mindset. They had left him in charge with this... situation. How could he, when the situation was caused by the one that was part of his family, one that had experienced hell with him through and through?

Thinking back, his face burned bright red. He'd even dramatically showed them his powers, and now Uncle Bakar is right here! What would they think of him now? Some ungrateful brat who'd ditched his own family after achieving immortality and power? That the exact opposite of who he was as a person.

Usually, Boboiboy or Fang would be the ones giving him the orders. They would be by his side, telling him what to do in dire situations. Now, it was time for him to think for himself. He'd been a low-ranking agent in MATA, listening to orders, but here, despite ranking higher than everyone else, he was the same, taking orders blindly and never trusting his own judgement.

Ali looked down to his boots, his hood hanging low like a grim reaper's. Nothing's changed.

Is he supposed to listen to someone else for eternity? Memories of MATA surfaced, reminding him of the times he was nearly terminated for disobeying orders, how he'd been discriminated for not being a team player, how he was berated for his deemed "self-centered" behavior.

No. Ali's eyes narrowed, clenching his fists. Not anymore.

His heart steeled, determined to turn his life around. He would change himself. He would make something out of himself, learn to control his life by his own. There was no point in being a wallflower, if he was going to live forever.

Gritting his teeth, he snapped his head around to face the doors of the cells, glaring at the slabs of metal. As his eyes flew over to the locks, with shaky fingers, he punched in the password, each number emitting a high-pitched beep as he completed the code to enter.

The doors slid open, proving to be no resistance to his meeting with the criminals. Upon his entrance, he was greeted with a large corridor, with a large array of rooms, most of them occupied, as proven with the activated barriers of blue.

Despite the sheer numbers of prisoners, there were only two cells that was of his interest. He released a faint breath from his lips, meeting the glare of the inmates, their wounds and scars earned from stubbornness and disobedience. Their glare was a trojan horse, hiding deep fears, as he was the one that dealt such damage.

He turned his gaze to his front, unyielding under the murderous glares. Finally, he reached the two final cells, separated from the rest in fear of any discussions with others.

"Just what we need to see in the morning," Bobby growled, crossing his arms as he glowered at the boy, attracting Ali's attention almost immediately. "A traitor."

Both the agents were stripped of their armor, wearing only their civilian clothing, which was fortunate, since if they weren't prepared, they would be forced to walk around stark naked, which was a situation that's happened more than once in this organization due to security reasons.

Ali sighed, already regretting his decision. "Nice to see you too, Bobby." He turned to him, meeting his glare through the crystal blue barrier. "Haven't heard from you since I knocked you out in that mall."

Bobby's scowl deepened, his expression darkening though it was visible he was hiding his embarrassment of his unexpected defeat.

"Ali!" Bakar stood, seeming rather distressed of his mission rather than his own health. "We're not here for war. We're here to stop it."

Ali's hard expression softened, though he made no move, his arms hanging by his sides, hands balled into fists.

"I can't, uncle," he confessed, sheepish. "I'm not responsible for the negotiation."

"Still a lackey as always," Bobby retorted.

Ali glared at him, his expression turning 180 in a matter of microseconds. "This lackey is responsible for your lives," he snapped. "You're in my territory. Attempt any rebellion and I will send a strike team to burn Cyberaya to the ground."

Bakar paled, hands pressing onto the energy barrier. By protocol, he would be electrocuted, but Ali insisted on removing that feature. With his knowledge, he knew that they would fry their own faces off trying to ram themselves out.

"Ali, Cyberaya is your home. Innocents will die!" Bakar reasoned. "Please, Ali, give us a chance. We don't want to be enemies!"

The black-haired boy turned to his uncle, harsh exterior melting to the old self he used to be. Even so, he was different: his eyes glared ahead with analytic confidence, his posture easy-going but flexible for battle. So much had changed, but yet he still felt connections with his old life, a toxic trait unsuited for who he needed to be.

That would be the end of him, and Ali knew it.

"I don't hold power over negotiations," Ali said coolly, though hardly with any hostility or malice. "As much as I regret to do so, it's the only insurance I can give my friends."

"Friends!" Bobby flared, pounding at the barrier. "Your real friends are back at MATA, trying to restore order after new villains attack MATA because of this negotiation. You're not just dumb, but blind as well."

"Ah." Ali pursed his lip. "It's already started?" It's only been little over half a year, yet the information has spread like wildfire, at least to other villains, not civilians. He crossed his arms, defending his ground. "Can't say I didn't expect that."

Bobby's anger flared, ready to strangle the boy, but something he didn't expect happened: the barriers fell, setting them free, posing no hurdle for any of their movement.

The two agents looked at the deactivated restraints with confusion, but their attention was brought back, where Ali leaned on the wall, crossing his arms as the control panel displayed green by his side, telling them the wielder of their freedom.

Ali turned to the other cells, where the prisoners all stared at him viciously, all looking for their moment of revenge.

"Another thing I'm responsible for is the criminals," he said dully, as if he was a senior teacher explaining algebra to kids. "If anything happens to you, I'm accountable; but whoever's gotten into trouble at the end, it's not me."

The two agents recognized the threat almost instantly, facing each other's grim expressions with startled gazes. As they stared upon the young child's small frame, he suddenly didn't seem so innocent or misguided; instead, what replaced him was a cold-blooded alien, never hesitating to pull the trigger to take a life.

Ali coughed falsely, straightening himself as he motioned for the two to follow him, with no objections nor second opinions accepted. "Now," he started, irritated expression unreadable. "Shall I give you two a tour?"