Unseen: Memories of The Future

Three days have passed.

Three days of pretending, of playing the role of a normal high schooler.

I've gone to school, laughed with my friends, and lived life just like I used to before all of this started… but things aren't the same. They never will be.

Life used to be quiet, peaceful. Now, everything has flipped upside down.

While I've been keeping up appearances, my men have been growing restless, wondering where I've been. I finally decide to check in, sending a message to Kuno to ease their concerns.

"I've been working on mask designs for us. We can't keep risking getting caught by the police."

Kuno replies almost instantly.

"Wouldn't it be better if you came to the warehouse and showed us some of the designs? Fidae could start making them."

Good point. Fidae used to make masks for Francis's men. He should be perfect for the job.

"On my way."

I throw on my hoodie and slip into the night, making my way to the warehouse.

The warehouse looms in the distance, dimly lit by flickering streetlights. It's quiet tonight, only the faint hum of the city in the background. As I step inside, I'm greeted by familiar voices.

"Boss, it's been a while! How you doin'?" one of my men calls out.

"I'm fine," I reply, scanning the room. "Where's Fidae?"

"He's in the back. Follow me."

I nod and follow him through the narrow hallways. When we step into the backroom, I find Fidae at his workstation, stitching together some old masks.

He looks up and grins. "Hey, Boss! How ya doin'?"

"I'm fine," I answer, glancing at the worn-out masks in his hands. "What are you working on?"

"Just patching up some old stuff. You got a job for me?"

"Yeah. I've been designing new masks for us."

His eyes light up. "Oh yeah? Let's see 'em."

I pull out a sketch and hand it to him. The mask is pure white, with wings spread open—wounded, torn. A symbol of how this world's peace has been marred by the weight of sin, by the filth it has been forced to carry.

Fidae whistles. "Damn, Boss… this is sick! Is this just for you?"

"No. One for each of our men."

His grin widens. "Oh wow, so that means I get one too?"

"Of course."

Fidae's excitement is almost childlike, and for a moment, I feel a pang of something close to pity. He was only thirteen when he was recruited into the Red Eagle gang. A kid with nothing—no money, no future. They fed him lies, told him he was fighting for the betterment of his hometown. And now? Now he fights for Justic3, for the betterment of the whole world.

"Thank you, Boss! You're the best!"

I nod. "You're welcome, Fidae."

Stepping onto the small stage we set up in the warehouse, I call for everyone's attention. One by one, my men gather, their eyes locked onto me.

"When Fidae is done with the masks, everyone on duty will be required to wear one," I announce.

One of the men raises a hand. "Shouldn't your mask be different from ours, Boss? Like, to show your rank or something?"

I shake my head. "No. If my mask stands out, it'll make it easier for the police to differentiate us. That's a risk we can't afford."

He nods in understanding. "Good idea, Boss."

I glance at Kuno. "How's Francis's right-hand man holding up?"

Kuno grimaces. "We've tried everything, but he won't talk."

Figures. A man like him wouldn't break so easily.

"I'll handle him," I say. "Tomorrow."

The room goes quiet. They know what that means.

"Until then, don't lay a hand on him. Let him eat, let him shower—but be careful. Do not let him escape. Force-feed him if you have to."

Kuno hesitates. "Why let him eat and clean up?"

I smirk. "Because I want him at his best when I go in there."

A few of them shift uncomfortably. They've seen what I do to people. They know exactly what's coming.

Kuno exhales, shaking his head. "Alright, Boss. Good luck."

I find Kuto near the back, checking his messages.

"You told the teams about the plan, right?" I ask.

"Yeah, they're all ready and waiting for your command."

"Good." I pause for a moment, then nod. "We'll start in two days."

"Got it."

"If there's nothing else, I'll head out. Stay put, and I'll send you a message when it's time. If anything happens, let me know immediately."

"Will do, Boss. See you soon."

Back home, I sit on my bed, staring at the map spread out in front of me. The plan has been finalized down to the last second.

I've placed four of my men throughout the city. In two days, their movements will be precise—each kill executed within minutes of the last.

7:40 AM – First target eliminated.

8:30 AM – Second kill.

8:40 AM – Third strike.

8:50 AM – Final hit.

A controlled pattern. Justic3 will make its mark. And then, two days later, we move beyond this city.

The first to act will be Viper. He'll begin his mission by hunting down a known rapist, slaughtering him, and leaving the name Justic3 behind—written in blood. Then, following my orders, he'll turn himself in… and end his own life before they can extract any information.

Detective Aizen will take the bait.

He already suspects Justic3 is more than just a single man, but after this, he'll be sure of it. He'll believe Justic3 is an organization. That will make it infinitely harder for him to narrow the search down to one person.

And after Viper? The cycle continues.

A week later, another soldier will rise. Then another. And another. One by one, the six men stationed in different cities will repeat the pattern—killing their targets, leaving the name Justic3 behind, and taking their own lives before they can be questioned.

By the time it's all over, six men will have died for the cause.

Six martyrs. Six shields to hide the real mastermind.

Detective Aizen… let's see how you handle this.

I smirk and close my eyes.

The pieces are in place.

Now, the real game begins.