Homecoming | sequel of "Home" [✔️]

Chapter 28

"That's fun."

Bakar stared at Ali. "What?"

Ali looked at him, expression neutral, hiding a hint of envy.

"Cyberaya went through a war without me?" Ali said, now amused rather than offended. "I'd feel left out, but then again, I started too much wars to even care."

Nikki sighed. "There was no war, Ali." She wheeled herself forward, to come into Ali's sight fully. "Your father sent assassination drones to kill Dato Othman. MATA then deleted every file to save the agents' identity. Yours, Aliya's, everyone's, all but the pillars'."

Ali groaned. "That's why I got walled off for a decade?" He scratched his head. "So, Fang's in another wall. All I got to do is destroy everything I see? Fantastic. Easier than I thought." He frowned. "What about Boboiboy?"

"That boy," Bakar continued, taking back the reins of the history tale, "is still in MATA, because he has no files. His IDs are fabricated, and everyone working there now is personally recruited by your father, other than him."

Ali held his hands up, though his expression was neutral as ever, like every other conference and debacle. "I have no father." He glanced at Viktor, who looked like he was choking on satay sticks. "Do you have anything to say to my face, Vik?"

All eyes were on Viktor now, which he wasn't ready for this sudden change in conversation topics.

Ali felt a relieved smile creep onto his face. Viktor was still Viktor, even after all this time. Easily flustered and easily distracted, just like how he was long ago, before MATA was a factor in his life.

Maybe some mortals don't change that easy, after all.

He thought of the times that he was forced to cancel the time they spent together because of MATA's training, which in turn, affected their friendship drastically. Thirteen years ago, he'd run because Viktor mentioned MATA. MATA, had yet again, ruined his life for him, albeit indirectly.

MATA, a place for battle and justice. Justice was blind, justice had no mercy. Ali saw this too late, choosing his fantasy over laws and rules, preferring to live in his own world rather than accept facts that would save him the trouble and emotional turmoil.

"Nothing?" Ali said, turning around. "Is that all you can tell me?"

They did not stop him, nor did they voice their opinions. However, there was a nagging sense, dragging Ali's voice out, forcing him to stop in his footsteps, his lips parting to force the words out.

He looked down to his boots, hands in pockets, balled into fists.

"Nice to see you're alive."

He didn't know who he was talking to. Perhaps, just maybe, he wasn't as heartless he thought himself to be.

He continued walking, his pace faster than before, walking past the row of trees they hid behind, heavy boots rustling on the dried grass. No one stopped him; their voices, conversations fading to silence as he trudged on, the street's emptiness slowly filled with people pouring from stores and portable restrooms.

Old habits die hard, it seems. Ali cursed himself, never stopping in his tracks, but he could feel his dead, human soul returning, lingering between him and them, reaching for the love he never had, but always desired.

What do you want in your life?

Did he know? It was a question he asked himself many times, day and night, but always gave himself different answers. He wanted to travel the galaxies, he wanted to leave everything behind, he wanted to be free.