The Dramatic Hybrids
12:15 a.m., Military Chief Office ;
Ahmed Ali Fadhil. Lucas Wilson. As she looked at the way the hundreds of dead were lying upon the ground in front of MCO, each body at a distance of two meters from the other, horizontally, Rong Xinghe couldn't refrain from thinking about the two men Ashfakh Ali had mentioned before.
This was their pattern. It was Lucas Wilson's pattern. Brutal, yet, obsessed with returning the victims in an alignment. Properly. He was a 'sophisticated freak', they said in the underworld. She had seen his barbarity years ago. She had seen them both 'in-their-form', in fact.
"Military Chief, it's President Mo.", Shou Wu rushed towards the girl, covering the speaker of his phone with his hand, "He wants to speak to you."
"Not the right time, Officer.", Rong Xinghe waved her hand dismissively.
"I insist, Chief.", the old man requested, "It is important."