The Old Jakarta Archives, 02:45 WIB
The dust settled on the concrete floor. Pistacio sat on the chest of the fallen Reaper, his fingers shaking as he held the mask. Under it was not a monster. A man with a good name: Senior Commissioner Hartono.
He was the face of the Safe City plan. He was the one on every news channel comforting the mothers of victims, promising that the law would catch up. He was the veteran who trained Pistacios' instructors.
"You," Pistacio whispered, his breath feeling bad. "You were the one crying for the victims. You were the one saying the bureaucracy was slow."
Hartono laughed, a sound. "I wasn't complaining, Pistacio. I was analyzing its failure. I spent thirty years filling out forms while killers walked free. I didn't want to be another failure. I wanted to be in control."
Malik stood over them, his tablet finally getting a signal. "The EMP fried his transmitter. The Garden is offline now. The police... They're five minutes away. Hartono, you're done."
"Am I?" Hartono tilted his head, his eyes burning with a clarity. "Look at the streets, Malik. Look at the numbers. Crime is down 85% since the Monday Massacre. People are sleeping with their doors unlocked for the first time in years. If you arrest me, you bring back the chaos. You bring back the rapists and corrupt people. Are you ready to tell the mothers of Jakarta that their kids are no longer safe because you wanted to follow rules?"
Pistacio gripped Hartonos's collar, pulling him up. "You didn't make them safe! You made them scared. You killed a CEO who was a thief. You also killed a man who lost his temper. You took away the chance for a person to be better."
"People don't get better, " Hartono hissed. "They just get sneakier. Unless they know someone is watching."
Suddenly, the warehouse doors were kicked open. Flashlights filled the room, blinding them.
"POLICE! HANDS IN THE AIR!"
It wasn't the patrol. It was the Tactical Response Unit. They weren't pointing their rifles at Hartono. They were pointing them at Pistacio and Malik.
"Detective Pistacio," a voice boomed from behind the shields. "You are under arrest for kidnapping and assaulting Senior Commissioner Hartono. Release him now."
Pistacio looked at the soldiers. He saw their armbands under their vests. The Garden hadn't just hacked the city's tech; it had hacked the city's soul. The police weren't there to enforce the law. They were there to protect their leader.
"He's the Executioner!" Malik screamed, holding up the tablet. "We have the files! We have evidence of the Saraswati-Aris setup from ten years ago!"
"The evidence is digital, Malik " Hartono said, standing up slowly and dusting off his coat. He looked like a statesman again. "Digital evidence can be... Tricky. Especially when the servers belong to the state."
One of the officers stepped forward—it was Yanuar. His face was cold. "Pistacio, give us the folder. Don't make this harder. The city is finally at peace. Don't ruin it with details."
Pistacio looked at the folder in his hand—the paper evidence. The only proof that the Great Purge was built on a lie. He looked at Malik at the wall of rifles.
"The law isn't a ghost, Hartono," Pistacio said, his voice low. "It's a debt.. I'm here to collect."
In one motion, Pistacio didn't reach for his gun. He reached for his flare gun. Fired it into the pile of old tax records and the Aris file.
"NO!" Hartono lunged. The dry paper ignited instantly.
"If I can't share the truth, " Pistacio shouted over the flames, "then nobody gets to hide the lie. We're going to burn this thing down."