(Fei’s Perspective)

  Afterschool. Here I see an empty classroom all organized to the point it looked cleaner than an average hospital. I can see my schoolmates play sports outside the room. Some ball game I believe. Beyond the schoolyard is the skyline of Beijing. The city itself had multiple massive skyscrapers jutting out like teeth of a great beast. Part of a large infrastructure plan enacted many years ago. I could see a slight reflection of myself on the window. It was me long before I died. My eyes were blue then and I was far less pale. Still, people thought I was a weirdo back then too. I heard the voice of an older man, my English teacher. He looked like any typical Chinese man in his 60s though something about him was rather unusual that I couldn’t describe to this day. He was always on my case. He had a rather harsh tone, but his accent was not of Beijing. Don’t remember where he was from. He was very peculiar.

  “Fei, 你在窗邊做什麼？ 過來。” (Fei, What are you doing by the window? Come over here.)

  “對不起老師。 好像大家都在外面玩.” (Sorry, teacher. It seems that everyone is playing outside.)

  “也許如果你及時完成了你的工作，你就可以在外面玩了.” (Maybe if you finish your work in time, you can play outside.) He didn’t even look at me as he was grading assignments from his desk.

  “你知道我無法完成它。 這是一篇一萬字的文章.” (You know I can’t get it done. This is a 10,000 word article.)

  “回到我那個時代，我們手工寫了這樣的文章，而不是打字.” (Back in my day, we wrote articles like this by hand instead of typing.)

  “真的嗎?” (Really?)

  “不。只是喜歡看你受苦，小女兒.” (No. I just love watching you suffer, little daughter.) He laughs in a way you expect from Chinese teachers.

  He always did that. Back then, he would give so many assignments, I thought he was setting me up for failure. Now, I realize he was preparing me so much for the future. I wondered if he knew what direction my life was going back then. He always called me his little daughter, a nickname for what he says is for his favorite student. Of course, that also means he was always the hardest on me in class by giving me so much work to do.

  As our conversation continued, I sighed from my teacher having to call me by that stupid name.

  “你知道我不喜歡被這樣稱呼.” (You know I don’t like being called that.)

  He looked up at me and stopped grading. “不在乎。 今天你練習英語了嗎?” (Don’t care. Did you practice English today?)

  “我學習了，老師.” (I studied, teacher.)

  He switched languages. “Then why are you not speaking English right now?”

  “Was I supposed to?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I want to see if my little daughter really is studying.”

  I just groaned. “So, what do I have to do to get out of class?”

  “Not much. I just want to tell you about your book report. It’ll be due after the weekend.” He stood up and reached for a book on his desk.

  My teacher tossed the book from his desk at me. I caught it. I saw that the cover page had a jiangshi attacking some victims. The creature itself had a stiff posture, was wearing some stereotypical Qing official uniform, and had a paper talisman over its face. In English, it translated to: “The Jiangshi Menace. Wait, does anyone else have to do this assignment?”

  He just shrugged. “That’s not important. What matters is that you finish the report in English. But tell me, what do you know about jiangshi?”

  “Not much. It’s what the West would call our zombies. Or are they vampires?”

  “Doesn’t matter what the West calls it. Still a monster, right? Instead of blood or flesh, it is supposed to feed on qi, the vital essence of life for all things.”

  “And this is important because?”

  “Don’t be a smartass. Because such stories are reflections of our society. Especially from the past. Learn your past to know your future. The idea of the Jiangshi is born from anti-Manchu sentiment, you know?”

  “I didn’t.” I was telling the truth. History wasn’t my strong subject back then.

  “That is why you have to learn. So many people use the concepts of monsters to demonize others or ideas that they don’t want to understand. I want you to be better than that.”

  I looked at my teacher and nodded. “I understand. Do the jiangshi have weaknesses?”

  “Mirrors, vinegar, the paper talismans used to bind them, peach tree wood, rooster calls, fire, I could go on.”

  “That’s a lot of weaknesses,” I replied.

  “Much of it came from times of superstition. Such stories have many ways that they are told. So next week, you have the report due.”

  I was about to turn around and leave, “Right. I should be going.”

  “Before you go, I have something to say,” he said as I stopped for a moment.

  “You might not be the best, achieving student since your grades are average at best even when you try your hardest. They don’t reflect your true potential. I can see it in the little things you do. Such small acts add up over time. And I have been watching your actions very closely.”

  “Uh, that’s not weird at all,” I said in my most deadpan tone.

  “What did I tell you about being a smartass? 5 point deduction.”

  I tried to interject, “But…”

  “Don’t interrupt. You have a lot of work to do to be better. But I see you try your best to be a well-rounded person, even when others treat you like shit. It will be important for the future to come.”

  “The future to come?”

  He nodded. “Yes, you will know what that means.”

  I thought for a moment of his words then. The future to come. To think I would become a jiangshi myself was not something I expected back then. I am not even that stereotypical variant found in that story I read. I am not wearing some stuffy Qing garb. Not really rotting at all thanks to the qi I already have. I don’t have a stupid talisman to turn me into some thrall. And thank goodness my “flesh” does not stiffen, so I don’t have to hop around like a rabbit. Even I wouldn’t take myself seriously if that happened.

  Plus, I don’t have to feed off of humans for their qi, which is good. I can get qi from the environment around me in the presence of technology. Something related to unconventional forms of feng shui and cultivation perhaps? It deviates from classic depictions. Access to the Static is basically a well where I can sustain myself without worry. Then again, how I came to be was not even normal for most necromantic rituals.

  I thought back again what my teacher meant about the future until I felt a hard jab to the face, and I snapped back to reality.

  —-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Ooof. I reel back from the hit as a sense of clarity comes back.

  Finn waits for a moment for me to collect myself, “Daydreaming already? Before our sparring session? Something on your mind?”

  I shook my head, “No, I’m okay.”

  I am in the safehouse. Quite a large and spacious place in the outer neighborhoods of Cebu. It’s a decent place to plan and rest between missions. Not much here other than the living essentials, a small armory that is currently empty, and a small surveillance station monitoring the exterior. Finn and I also repurposed the space to make room for sparring in martial arts.

  Some of my associates in AGON are taken aback that I am more familiar with western skills like jiu jitsu or capoeira than in things like karate or taekwondo. Not for the lack of trying, but I only learned official fighting skills rather recently in my time as an agent. Much of my other combat techniques are improvised based on the environment. I also learned a thing or two from Bruce Lee’s writings. But I read more from his writings about clearing my mind through meditation than knowing fighting styles. Plus, AGON recommended I lay low when I am in Asia especially in the presence of local authorities that have ties to China.

  I shake the brain fog out of my head and put myself back into a fighting stance. Finn and I are practicing hand to hand combat now. And I was spacing out. Okay, time to focus.

  I look at Finn’s stance. An expert in close quarters combat would notice Finn is being deceptive in his posture. It seems relaxed but it hides experience and strength that would make many spec ops feel like army privates. After all, Sun Tzu would say:

  堅強的時候就顯得軟弱，軟弱的時候就顯得堅強。Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.

  Hmm...Seems Finn wants me to make the first move. Dammit.

  My offensive starts with multiple jabs at Finn’s torso as well as low kicks to stumble or trip him. However, Finn manages to block my low kicks. I follow up with jabs to his torso and his face. He uses his left arm to deflect the jabs to the torso and his right arm to the face.

  Finn throws some fighting words at me as I try to get a hit in. “C’mon lass. That all ya got?”

  I continue with my flurries, throwing left and right towards his chest, but I only manage to hit his swift forearm. Another left towards his gut, but he grabs my wrist. I barely manage to snatch it out of his grip. He probably let me go, there’s no way I would’ve been able to get out of that.

  “I wouldn’t say you fight like a wee girl. But more like a wet noodle. Or even better, you fight like a feckin English bastard.” He is being more harsh with the insults today, isn’t he?

  I become more aggressive by making roundhouse kicks to Finn’s head. Finn dodges the first kick and then blocks my lead up with more arm blocks. Finn then counters with strong side punches to catch me off-guard. I bob weave between the punches and even block the last few blows. Soon, Finn tries to grapple me by the waist and pin me to the ground.

  Okay, this bit is definitely cheating, but I don't really care. I twist sharply, bending my spine and shoulders like a ghostly acrobat, and begin phasing my arms directly through Finn's chest. The sensation is always surreal, like pushing through cool smoke rather than flesh. My hands re-materialize on the other side, grasping firmly around his torso, preparing to grapple him from behind.

  But Finn's already two steps ahead—he flashes a mischievous grin, eyes twinkling with anticipation. Before I can tighten my grip, he suddenly jerks his head back, delivering a swift, precise headbutt straight into my forehead. Stars burst into my vision as a ringing shock jolts through my skull, disorienting me.

  I'm stunned, and he capitalizes instantly. Too dazed to phase away or even react, I feel Finn's strong hands seize my wrists, effortlessly prying apart my half-formed grapple. He pivots sharply, reversing my momentum and wrenching my arm into a swift, expert hold. In one fluid motion, he twists and slams me down hard onto the mat.

  A sharp, breathless "Oof!" escapes my lips as the impact reverberates through me, leaving me staring up at Finn's smug, victorious smile. I slowly regain my senses as I look up at Finn.

  “No fair,” I pout.

  Finn replies with an amused expression. “Says the lass that I told very specifically not to use her powers during sparring.”

  “Sorry, I just don’t think I can beat you in a fair fight. Or even if I used all my powers.”

  “Lass,” he extends an arm to help me up, “You don’t need abilities to win the day. You just need guile and cunning.”

  He says this with his thumbs up.

  “Thanks? Also, I didn’t know headbutting people is considered a strategy.”

  Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Finn laughs in his mirthful way, “In the old Eire, playing a bit dirty is considered a sound strategy. Or is that just me?”

  Finn beckons me to sit with him at a bench nearby. I follow and sit with him. “I see. But I still need to better myself.”

  “You are more of a fast learner compared to most of my old warband, the Fianna. You may not be the best martial artist. But I see you at your best when you improvise based on your surroundings. You’ll be fine.”

  I smile and shrug at his attempt to encourage me. “I am not much of a fighter anyway. Much more rewarding that we can talk our way to victory than just punching things to resolve issues.”

  He grabs a canteen and has a sip. “Aye. Don’t worry we will get plenty of opportunities in the future. Though these brutes don’t seem like open negotiators. Also, Yaz updated me on the descriptions of the cyber zombies you gave last morning. Both she and I can recall they are the type that similarly belong to this dangerous mercenary company from outside the Philippines with a reputation for depraved atrocities. So we do know there is someone else working with the aswang.”

  “It would probably be easier to get this mission done if we can find a native to help us know what the aswang and their allies really want.”

  “Aye. Aside from that issue, I am really proud of you.”

  I ask, “Why?”

  “Can’t an old man like me be happy that his student has learned so much in just a few years.”

  “Those few years felt like a century ago.”

  “If that’s the case with you, imagine me having to live 150 of the craziest years of human history.” Finn finishes his drink and sighs afterward. “People come and go. Live and die. I've seen wars on scales I haven’t seen before in my early days.”

  “I know of all the stories you told me. They were what kept me sane after AGON imprisoned me after...well you know.”

  Finn shrugs, “Didn’t think my stories were all that interesting to begin with. Just scrums with some fecked up bastards.”

  “I mean you told me the stories where you fought alongside the Irish Brigade, the Sioux tribes, the Haitian witchdoctors, the Jotunn of Norway, the Steppe Orcs, the Djinn of Ubar, the Vietcong....You went all over the world.” If there is one thing that makes Finn stand out, it is that he is more well-traveled than people give him credit for.

  “Yeah...All to maintain the balance of power that is slowly slipping by the day. I could go all over the world. But I can never return home.”

  “Something we have in common.” A melancholy we both share. There are those in AGON that call us the Exiles, because we carry ourselves as wanderers that belong to nowhere. There is also the detail that we can never return to our homelands too, but people wouldn’t ever know that unless they asked.

  “You know it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t ask to be what you are now.”

  He is right that much of my behavior after my reawakening was driven by instinct, but I still did it. “I can’t take back what has happened. I still caused a lot of grief. I honestly wouldn’t mind if AGON put me in a box and threw me into the ocean. It’s where----”

  Finn interjects, “Perish the thought, lass.”

  “Sorry. I just wish things were different…”

  Finn moves his arm around my shoulder. I look up at him.

  “Regret is the one thing worse than fear or anger. We all make mistakes and we wish we never made them. But life is about owning up to all the choices we make. Good and bad. What will you do with the past you carry, lass?”

  I slowly slide my head by his side. He’s like a father I wished I had.

  “Live and learn.”

  Finn smiles warmly, “No one can deny you’re a good student. Someday you can teach others what you've learned.”

  “謝謝, that means a lot, Finn.”

  Finn starts drumming his lap with his hands in excitement. “So another round?”

  “Umm…” I am a bit hesitant about getting my butt kicked again.

  Suddenly, we hear knocking at the door. We both stand up, while Finn draws his spear.

  “Odd. Yaz said no one should know about this location.”

  “You think--?”

  Finn just raises his hand as he carefully approaches the door. He leans on it while I get behind him.

  “If you are looking for something, you got the wrong house.”

  We hear a voice with a Filipino accent from the door. “My mistake then, I thought you guys needed a native for your ‘little problem.’”

  Finn quickly opens the door to reveal a Filipino, possibly a native to the area. He wore a simple green shirt and some brown shorts. He has long hair tied into a ponytail like myself though it was closer to the nape of his neck than up near the center of the skull like me. He also had piercing green eyes similar to Finn except those eyes shine like emeralds. I walk over and observe him closely.

  I narrow my eyes at him, “Have you been listening in on us?”

  He boldly nods his head. “Not only that.”

  He takes out a photo to reveal me from my infiltration mission. Wow, I am getting even sloppier by the day.

  He continues “If you guys want to investigate in my city, you have to be a bit more subtle.”

  I cross my arms and lean on the door.

  Finn says, “You got balls, I give you that. You have 20 seconds to explain yourself.”

  “I want these aswang outta my home. They have been kidnapping people left and right. I didn’t know it was just a lead-in to something bigger.”

  I raise a brow. “Are you some kind of private investigator?”

  The Filipino responds, “Vigilante actually.”

  “Great,” I say sarcastically.

  “C’mon. I only punish people that deserve it,” the Filipino says this in a weirdly nonchalant manner yet still full of conviction.

  I ask back, “And how would you know they would deserve it?”

  He points to his forehead. “I have a sense about these things.”

  Finn chimes in, “Okay, okay. So are you telling me an average lad like you has gotten the better of these dossers?”

  “I wouldn’t consider myself a regular guy,” says the Filipino as he takes off his shirt. “Can you let me in? Don’t want to transform out in the open.”

  I became quite curious. Is he a werebeast? “Wait a minute, what exactly are you?”

  “Let me in and I'll show you. Do you want to know what the aswang want or not?”

  I look at Finn and we both shrug. We let him in. He walks into the middle of the safehouse. The bone and flesh starts shifting as parts of the Filipino’s face, arms, legs, and torso twist and turn to become a completely different creature. Half man, half horse. Oh. I should have expected it, but I can’t help having that sense of wonder when I see something new.

  The werehorse furrows his brow, “What? Have you guys never ever seen a tikbalang before?”

  We shake our heads.

  The werehorse neighs. “Here’s the information.” He shows a microchip. Finn snorts in response. I couldn’t help but be amused.

  “Just so you know, I am a bit offended when someone snorts at my horse noises. I am half-horse. I can’t help it.” He clears his throat. “Anyways, I have conditions.”

  Finn takes a deep breath. “Of course you do.”

  “Name them,” I say.

  “First, whatever happens, we are doing this for the people living here. Not foreign governments, corporations, or secret organizations. Whatever agenda your superiors have, they are not the ones with the most to lose. The people here have everything to lose if things go wrong.”

  I say, “Well, we are here to help the people of Cebu.”

  “That may be true. But consider the possibility your mission and the interests of my home may not be one and the same. Just know as soon as you do something that fucks my home over, we are going to have a problem.” That last sentence sounds like a veiled threat. Not sure I am keen for another fight so soon, if our partnership goes south with the werehorse.

  Finn raises a brow unamused, “A little too soon to think you are in a position to make such a statement. Don’t forget you have more to lose than us.”

  The werehorse nods, “I know, but what greater danger is there than someone who has lost everything and has nothing left to lose?”

  I’m quick to de-escalate this by saying the following with conviction, “You are not gonna lose your home. Not if we have to say anything about it.”

  He pauses for a moment and smirks, as much as a horse can smirk at all. “I also have another condition. I want you to have your higher-ups pull some strings to convince the authorities to get off my back. I haven’t been seen as the best law-abiding citizen here.”

  We listen intently until...we hear groaning and banging along the walls.

  I guess I jinxed myself in thinking of avoiding another fight. This time it comes to us.

  Finn with an annoyed look states to the werehorse. “Please tell me you weren’t followed.”

  The werehorse shakes his head. “I wasn’t.”

  I walk over to the computer screen where it records footage from security cameras and sensors. In view were a couple of ethereal ghouls who look like a monstrous cross of vampiric humanoids with small wings and with faces that look similar to some sort of monkey I read in a book once. I think it was a mandrill. They were trying and failing to phase into the complex armed with ethereal weapons. I press my hand on the screen and I’m able to see multiple angles at once through the CCTV footage. We are surrounded in every side of the safehouse.

  “Guys, there’s a lot of them outside. How did they even find us?”

  The others walk over to see who is on screen.

  The werehorse widens his eyes. “Oh shit. No wonder. Bebarlang.”

  “什么?” (What?) I tend to slip back to Chinese when I am taken by surprise.

  “Aswang?” Finn asks.

  The werehorse nods, “Aswang ghouls that can astral project from their bodies to hunt down their victims. Some that can cast magic can see through walls. Probably how they found you. What’s really odd is how they have ghostly AK-47s.”

  The werehorse can see one of the bebarlang load up his ethereal rifle. Yeah that definitely looks like an AK-47. I didn’t know gun manufacturers make ectoplasmic weapons.

  “Grand. We can worry about that later.” Finn sees one of the Bebarlang is casting a spell to penetrate the ward protecting the safehouse. “We need to know if we can damage these projections.”

  “Blessed weapons will dissipate those forms back into their primary bodies. Ghostly entities can also combat them,” the werehorse replies.

  I nod while drawing my knife. “My karambits are made of silver. Will that be enough?”

  The werehorse nods, “That works too.”

  “Aye.” Finn draws his spear. “This spear was wielded by Lugh Lamfada himself, warrior god-king of Eire and of the pantheon of Tuatha De Danann. No man or creature can stand against it.”

  “I have no idea what any of those names mean. But I am just gonna assume that it is overkill.” The werehorse is correct that it is powerful. With a silver spearhead that is Ancient Celtic in design and a yew shaft decorated from many battles, the spear is a weapon that always hits its mark. When I first saw the spear, I was scared to death of it. No pun intended. The spear is something that can cripple the dead with fear, as the god who made it was associated with light. In time, however, I adjusted to its presence, even felt welcomed by it, since I have a good relationship with its wielder.

  Finn asks, “What about you lad? Weapon of choice?”

  The werehorse draws two baton weapons that have glowing inscriptions on them. He takes a combat stance as he looks around for bebarlang. “I can use bladed weapons too. But I always have a soft spot for smacking assholes with these.”

  The ward finally breaks outside and all the bebarlang aim for the building with their rifles.

  Looking at the screen, Finn widens his eyes and calls for us. “Hey, stand by me.”

  We quickly stand next to Finn as he slams the shaft end of the spear to the ground creating a shield of light just in time for the bebarlang to open fire their ethereal bullets phasing through the building at us. Fortunately, the shield blocks the projectiles that were coming through the walls.

  “Ok, didn’t expect that.”

  I smirk that our guest is taken aback by Finn’s capabilities. It shows we can impress too. In a couple of seconds, the Bebarlang stopped firing. We see more than a dozen bebarlang storm the safehouse charging at us with ferocity through the walls.

  “This is where the fun begins. Let’s FUCKIN’ GO!!!” Finn throws his spear at one of the ghouls and destroys the astral form on contact. The spear hits the wall and teleports back into Finn’s hand.

  The werehorse exclaims, “Damn!”

  More bebarlang charge as the werehorse teleports behind some of them and does multiple strikes with his batons. The werehorse mainly aims for their heads. Some attack with claws or shoot their ethereal guns but he counters the attacks with overhead blocks while swiftly striking back mostly through flanking maneuvers on their sides.

  He then….teleports? I wonder if that’s some magic innate to his kind or something unique to him. He reappears and jabs his batons into a bebarlang’s chest and knocks it back.

  I dodge the stabs and slashes from the invaders who lunged at me. Then, I ran up the wall causing some of them to pursue me. I continue to evade the aswang with some trying to shoot at me with their ghostly guns. I slide under them and slash them from below the waist causing two to dissipate.

  Finn uses his spear to counter more attacks from the aswang. His range with the spear manages to keep four of them from coming in close. Some attacks were swings but most were thrusts, as appropriate to the weapon he wields.

  Some of the bebarlang attempt to combo their attacks on Finn. One shoots at Finn to catch him off-guard, while another bebarlang comes in close for an uppercut, but Finn anticipates this and ducks first, while using the spear shaft to push the assaulting aswang back. Finn whistles to me, and I jump from the wall. Finn sets his spear down, and I grab onto the shaft. I pivot my body around the spear, harnessing the momentum to deliver a sweeping roundhouse kick, striking multiple aswang in a wide arc.

  They fall down and the werehorse teleports above and strikes them from above destroying them both.

  With the fight going on the bebarlang decreased in number dwindling down to six versus three.

  The caster bebarlang uses its abilities to shoot astral energy at Finn. Finn deflects this by spinning his spear. The werehorse and I move to fight the other five. Attacks, counterattacks, parries, blocks continue until we are back to back with each other.

  I notice the werehorse is behind me and we take a quick glance at each other as we fight the aswang. I steal a ghostly gun from one of the foes and shoot one of them multiple times before it dissipates.

  The werehorse attempts the same but the gun phases through his hand. Not a ghost, it seems. That takes him by surprise and the bebarlang manages to slice into his back. He winces in pain but he retaliates by slamming both sticks to the sides of aswang’s head, taking him out of the fight.

  Finn deflects the caster's projectiles and then he throws the spear up catching the caster by surprise. Finn slides underneath the caster and the spear up on the ceiling teleports back in Finn’s hands which appears inside the caster destroying his astral form.

  Finn then throws the spear where the Filipino and I are fighting the remaining three. The spear impales two of them at once leaving only one left. Seeing that the three bested his friends, the last bebarlang looks at us idly. He looks at us with fear and drops his rifle.

  The aswang dissipates himself leaving us three alone in our damaged safehouse.

  With this respite, we relax our guard as we look at each other.

  Finn says, “Not bad, lad. And good work, lass.”

  The werehorse winces from his wound. “Could have gone better.”

  I see the gun I stole dissipate from my hand. I tend to the werehorse. “You’re hurt.”

  He laughs, “Thought I could grab the gun because you did it. My mistake. And don’t worry, just a flesh wound. Ow.”

  I checked the wound over his back. I get a med pack and treat it with some rubbing alcohol and bandages, as he transforms back into his human form.

  “Okay, tough guy.” I look at Finn. “I assume we can’t stay here considering those were just projections. They will tell the others.”

  “And come back in greater numbers.”

  The Filipino sighs, “As much as I don’t care for it, I know where we can go. I just hope Tito doesn’t freak out.”

  Finn and I look at each other a little confused about what he means. Finn adds, “I guess we will be sharing information on our way there, eh, lad?

  I finished treating the Filipino’s injuries. Nothing too bad. He still needs some rest. “If we are going to your place can we at least start by sharing our names?”

  The Filipino looks at me, “Riz.”

  I say my name and my partner’s, “Fei and this is Finn.”

  Riz quirks a brow, “Short and sweet like me, eh? Nice.”

  I smirk back, “And easy to remember.” Despite his cocky attitude earlier, he is a good fighter and he is reliable. I wonder how long our alliance will last.