NOTE: THE ARTICLE HAS BEEN MOVED TO HERE, it is the one that is under constant updates. By the time this notice is written, it has reached Chapter Four, and currently, it may hold even more. Click on the link given in the 'HERE'.

-The Observer

IT IS NEVER too wrong to ever lay down what one knows for the others to know. For some, it may be of utter uselessness, but for those who know better, such an action may save thousands of lives.

I do not wish to put together a story, a narration, or maybe even a fiction. I cannot give any form or sorts of guarantee, or ensure to you, that all you will read below is anywhere near my imaginations. But let me assure you from within the deepest corners of my sincere heart, God help me, these are real.

And by real, I mean real.

I need not to mention my name. You may call me the Observer; that is, if you even need to address me at all.

I will relay here the results of my observations, my pickpocketing, my stealing, my far-distance watching, some freerunning from angry mobs and some of the even worse -- I don't need to mention who -- and, of course, the knowledge that I will relay here is a result of a very thorough examination.

I have no need to relay to you how and by what means I finally decided upon Jakarta for my observation. I have been following the files in the Order's Online Archives and took a particular interest in this one, single Assassin. Fresh. Talented, in many ways. Almost like all the talents are embodied within his blood...

Just lately -- again, from my observation -- apparently what I just mentioned is true.

But I have not the need to hold you longer, do I? I can only wish these would only land in the right hands. I do not wish to expose such a fragile, yet resourceful country as Indonesia to the greedy hands of our...enemies. Of the Cross.

There will be no more delay. Let me take a short sigh.

Now here we go.

-Arjuna Wijaya

MUST I mention to you that one of my favorite foods around -- nasi goreng, which roughly translates as fried rice, a big portion of rice, fried and given several spices that for me is pretty heavenly -- is apparently one of the diets I must avoid? Hell no. Why, on Heaven's name, would I have to avoid my favorite food?


What the Hell, man? I mean, come on. That's just simply paranoid. But as I sit here in silence, in a warung -- some sort of a simple food-corner tent in what usually is unused spaces on streetsides that sells mostly traditional foods -- waiting for my food order of a simple instant noodle to arrive, I realize that not a single second today I have taken my hoodies off.

I'm hiding my identity. Maybe that's why I prefer to go to this warung for my dinner instead of the bigger restaurants there in malls and the central corners of the city -- such an atmosphere found here: the simplicity, the vehicles on the road whooshing from outside, the underdog people's chatters...they are simply perfect for what I'm currently on.

The darkness of the night in this streetside isn't too bad, the lights are on, and there are lots of vehicles outside. Typically Jakarta. Actually, this hoodie jacket starts to make me sweat, but I don't care. Not a single second.

The warm sweat can't come out. Why? Because I already cold sweat. Fear is overwhelming. In Jakarta, you don't know who you meet. And with such an underground wars like the eternal battle between the Assassins and the Templars, you'll never know if there's any Templar in disguise out here.

No, though. Usually the Templars prefer moving around in plain sight, but not blended in -- rather noticed. Many of the people in higher ranks all over the world are Templars. For instance, several relatives of the current Vice President. Which, I should admit, one of them I have shed the blood myself.

Now that is precisely why I'm here in fear, trying my best to hide. I killed a relative of the Vice President.

It was an easy task, I tell you. Very easy, even. Some of the Templars' bad habit was arrogance. It was the key to topple many of them. But apparently the Templars in the higher ranks are a lot more cunning and clever -- too clever to be arrogant. The arrogant Templars are nothing but disposables, but the higher ones, the clever ones, I admit to you that they're far greater challenges.

However, the Templars' tradition to take over the bigger ranks does not mean there won't be Templars in the underdog societies. Such as the society that is currently dining here in the same warung as I. Actually, my choice over this place is strengthened by the argument that one of my contacts -- a fellow Assassin -- is going to meet me here.

That can be a pretty convincing argument.

And no, I don't doubt the source of the information. It came right from the headquarters. I will write down how I killed the relative of the Vice President sometime later on, but let's just say today it was an easy task with drop-dead hard consequences. Drop dead, literally. One wrong move that I make now, and I'll 'drop dead' for real. This fellow Assassin that's going to meet me here is going to take me into hiding and protect me until the case is legally dropped -- that is, commonly, somewhere around thirty years in courts. But since the victim was someone of pretty important deal, it's probably gonna take a Hell longer than that.

A girl came with a boy, looking like a pair of lovers, and they left their bike parked on the other corner of this streetside. I notice their movements. The girl, especially.

No, I do not have a crush on this stranger.

But I'm into details. I see several things on her apparel. Something silvery was hidden in her semi-open handbag. Her simple appearance of a deep blue jacket and cargo shorts can't fool me easily -- the look of the jacket of that material is a little too thick on someone of her body posture.

Something's wrong.

She and her boyfriend share a laugh, probably from a joke the boyfriend cracked. I try not to look at them, but my eye pupils say differently. I used my old skills to notice my surroundings silently...

...and I finally find what bugs me.

My order of instant noodles came, the cook put a bowl of it on the table in front of me. I take a fork and a spoon and start eating it.

But my mind is still focused on the newly coming pair.

The girl looked at me. We shared a split-second eye contact. But I can see precisely what's going to happen next.

She and her boyfriend sat on the dining bench right next to me. I keep eating, my face constantly under the shadows of my hoodies, my eyes looking at nowhere else but her hand.

It is in her jacket pocket. It slightly moves. Very slightly...

Damn it.

My instincts take in and I jumped away almost immediately, and while everyone else in the warung turned in surprise, I know that I just dodged a fatal stab with a small poisoned knife.

Poisoning. What the Hell is with poisoning lately?

The girl stands up, the boyfriend behind her backing her up. Then I realize that they may be not a pair of lovers at all -- they're assigned agents.

I noticed the grip of the knife the boy is about to take from his bag. Okay, Templar agents.

They don't take any weapon out, and so won't I. The other customers and the warung owners look at us in some sort of mixture between slight anger, shock, sympathy, or simply blank look. I don't bother looking at them -- my left ring finger is ready to flinch to pull out my favorite weapon. The weapon that took most lives from all the weapons I've handled.

We slowly step outside the warung, and as soon as the tent walls are off us, the boy pulled the knife out and tried slashing at me with an incredible speed. I barely dodged it, but soon as I realize that shit just got serious, I flinch my whole left hand and let out a glittery powerful steel out of below my wrist.

My classic Hidden Blade.

The boy tries his luck again, but with my Assassin instincts in control, I have better reflexes. I dodge this attack and hit his face with my right palm. The girl tries throwing a knife at me, but I dodge that one and -- to my horror -- the knife goes through the tent walls of the warung and it may seem that it hits someone inside. An innocent.

My anger is nearly triggered now. But before I can unleash anything, any sort of wrath, two shadowy figures suddenly come out of the darkness from above me and land on the two Templars. Hidden blades are soon in the Templars' throats.

My contacts.

"What on Earth took you so long?" I ask in protest.

"Perhaps you would want to thank us first," one of my contacts, a male, says, breathing hard. "I hate rooftop running in this part of Jakarta."

"It doesn't matter," the other one says, this one a girl. I recognize the voice. "You okay?"

"Seems like so," I say, and I have to hold myself from barrelling them with my protests about poisoning. "Thanks, Alysha."

"No probs," the girl says.

"What about me?" the boy contact protests. I let out a sigh.

"You too, Satrio."

"We'll get you to the nearest hiding spot, okay?" Alysha says, holding my wrist gently. "We'll go underground for a couple weeks. Wait, you'll go underground for a couple weeks."

I let out a small smile. "No fair. You guys get all the fun."

"That's precisely why we pretend like we don't know there's an assignment to assassinate the Vice President's relative, alright?" Satrio adds simply. "Now let's go."

I sigh and disappear with them into the night. Time to unexist.

-to be continued...

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