Mission Brief:
Secure the Sangley courier's trail. Blend in during the Taal Fiesta. Observe, identify, and neutralize threats. Protect the Governor and retrieve the missing shipment manifest.
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Taal Town Plaza – 4:45 PM
The fiesta was in full swing.
The sound of kulintang and bandurria mixed with the chatter of tourists, locals, and politicians. Lanterns of red, yellow, and indigo fluttered in the wind like butterflies. Banderitas stretched across the town square, casting flickering shadows on the cobblestones. Women in colorful baro't saya danced the Subli—a traditional, reverent courtship ritual now laced with tension.
Juan and Don Eduardo stood near a makeshift stage covered in woven palm leaves and silk. He wore a loose white guayabera and shades, blending with the guests. But under his shirt was a 9mm Star Model B pistol. Don Eduardo had his .38 revolver hidden in a faux cigar box. Every move they made, every glass they raised, was calculated.
The mission was simple: find the Sangley spy disguised among the dancers and guests. But they both knew this would end in blood.
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5:10 PM – Governor's Tent
Governor Vergara arrived in a classic Chevrolet Fleetmaster, waving like a king. He was escorted to a heavily guarded VIP tent adorned with old Spanish crests and modern Philippine flags.
A rondalla ensemble played a fusion of kundiman and Spanish jazz. The scent of lechon, suman, and barako coffee filled the air. But Juan's eyes weren't on the food.
They were scanning faces.
He leaned toward Eduardo. "Third row, red camisa… twitchy."
"Too young," Eduardo muttered. "Looks scared. Not trained."
Then he pointed with his cigar. "There. Beside the mayor. The one who doesn't clap. Doesn't even blink."
Juan saw him—tall, fair-skinned, Mestizo-Chinese features. Eyes like glass. Hair cut like a Manila banker. But he clapped out of rhythm. He smiled a second too late.
He wasn't local.
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5:30 PM – The Subli Begins
The drums started slowly. The dancers entered in a half-circle, balancing hats on their heads, their feet striking in perfect unison. Around them, families cheered, children threw confetti, and camera flashes lit the plaza.
Juan moved closer. Don Eduardo positioned himself behind the stage. Both men had silencers in their bags, but in a town this small, nothing stayed silent for long.
Then it happened.
The suspect moved.
With calculated precision, he stepped toward the VIP tent. In his hand, under a folded abaniko, a glint of steel.
Juan didn't wait.
---
Gunfire. Chaos. Blood.
The first shot came from the stage. One of the rondalla musicians pulled a micro-Uzi from inside a guitar case and sprayed bullets across the dancers.
Screams.
Children running. Women ducking. A rain of confetti now falling with blood.
Juan dove and rolled, firing two clean shots—one through the suspect's leg, one to the guitarist's chest. Don Eduardo took out another Sangley gunman hiding in a halo-halo stall.
They had planned this for weeks. Maybe months.
The goal wasn't just to kill the governor—it was to send a message:
"We are everywhere."
Juan pushed through panicked crowds to find the wounded assassin crawling behind a kalesa. He kicked the man over and aimed at his forehead.
"Who sent you?"
The man spat blood. "You already know."
Bang.
---
6:10 PM – Aftermath
The plaza was a mess of overturned tables, shattered drinks, and weeping dancers. The Governor was alive, but furious.
"Damn it, I gave you information, not an invitation for a massacre!" he shouted at Eduardo.
Don Eduardo, still calm, handed over a blood-stained letter taken from the assassin's pocket.
It bore the crest of Casa Lim.
The letter mentioned names. Shipments. A date.
May 18 – Port of Manila. Pier 13. Code: SOMBRA.
Governor Vergara paled. "That pier is under American jurisdiction."
Juan stepped forward, wiping blood from his sleeve.
"Then we go where they think we can't. Where even the empire fears the shadows."
---
Nightfall
In the silence of Taal's church ruins, Juan stood beneath a crumbling bell tower. Maria de los Reyes arrived in a black dress and heels, holding a satchel.
She handed it to him.
"The files you wanted. From Binondo. Shipping manifests. Payments. A few familiar signatures."
Juan opened the folder. Among them: the seal of the Senate, the Philippine Ports Authority, and a signature from someone in the US embassy.
Maria looked up at him. "You ready for this?"
Juan closed the folder and lit a cigar.
> "No. But neither are they."