Forgotten and Lost 6

"They shot the cardinal!"

Those words hit the man like a speeding train. He turned around.

The crowd of employees in front of GST was getting restless. The news was on the radio, live on television and distributed through cellphones and tablets. It was appearing on the headlines of news websites.

"They shot the cardinal!" roared an angry factory worker clutching his cellphone.

 "Oh no! Not Cardinal Zhang!" cried a female clerk.

"They'll hang for that!"

"Cultist bastards!"

He could see that Anselmo Sanchez character in the angry crowd waving a shovel.

The cardinal!

Since that rainy day the cardinal helped him back on his feet, his life, as well as that of is family, changed. He and his siblings were given scholarships at Great South University -all the way to college. The agreement was that they were to work at any of the EOGC's companies for five years; after five years, they were free to go wherever they wanted. If they stayed at the EOGC, they would receive an automatic promotion. He chose Maintenance and Sanitation and decided to become part of the security forces.

He joined the security forces to return the favor the cardinal did him. The latter saved him and his family, he made his mind up to protect the cardinal.

But the cardinal was shot -and the man, now an officer, wasn't around to protect him. Regret, that was what the man felt, and guilt; regret and guilt. Now he was struggling to keep the anger under control.

"Hey boss!" cried a subordinate holding a phone. "It's the chief!"

The man took the phone. "Yes, Mr. Ong?" he asked.

"Captain Verde," said Eric Ong on the other side of the phone. "The cultists have to be taken out. Another crowd is forming around Gaston Park and heading for GST. You have to take the cultists  down before that other crowd does."

"I understand, sir-" as he spoke a tall, long-haired and somewhat scrawny-looking and bespectacled young man in a black GSU student's uniform walked  past his right and straight toward the front line where the cultists were expected to arrive. He recognized him at once.

"Hey, you can't go over there!" he said.

"My son is going to take charge," Eric Ong continued. "He has a score to settle with those former 'brethren' on his. You'll have to coordinate with him."

The man looked at Maximilian. The young man was carrying his dao, the wushu broadsword, in his left hand. Its two red square silk tails fluttered.

"Understood, sir," said the man.  He returned the phone back to the subordinate and ran to Maximilian.

"Any moment now, Captain Verde." said the young man. 

He looked at Maximilian, then he looked at the street. It didn't take them long to wait. The fanatics came.