Alter My Fate

(Telaga Town, 10:15 AM)

"Thief! Somebody stop him! My bag's been snatched!"

The frantic cry of a middle-aged woman pierced the morning bustle. Her trembling hand pointing towards a man disappearing into the labyrinth of narrow streets.

The culprit was Havian Shahreza, a man of striking looks despite the weight of forty-eight years etched upon his face.

Yet his charm masked a dark notoriety, Havian was a habitual offender, a figure whispered about with disdain in the bustling alleys of Mulyo Market.

Once, Havi might have been destined for greatness, but life had taken him down a far darker path. Now, he was famed or rather, infamous as an accomplished bag-snatcher, a criminal whose actions had left an indelible stain on the market's vibrant tapestry.

His crimes extended far beyond petty theft. He was whispered to have stolen motorbikes, terrorised innocent travellers on moonless nights, and even claimed a life. That particular crime, like so many others, had been neatly swept under the rug.

Through guile and ingenuity, Havian had framed an innocent bystander for the murder, walking away unscathed and unrepentant.

His victims were almost always women young and middle-aged carrying handbags that he eyed with the predatory focus of a hawk.

Havian wasn't reckless, though, each crime was a carefully choreographed performance. He studied his prey with the diligence of a scholar, weighing risks and rewards, rehearsing his escape routes, and planning contingencies should the worst occur.

The man was no stranger to prison walls. Yet, each stint behind bars seemed only to sharpen his instincts rather than soften his ways.

Upon release, he returned to his sordid trade with renewed vigour, as though captivity had merely been an inconvenient pause in his criminal career.

The people of Mulyo Market despised him, yet they were helpless to rid themselves of his menace. Time and again, they had tried to catch him, but Havian was a master of elusion, his mind always one step ahead.

He had survived countless beatings at the hands of enraged citizens and officers of the law alike, his lean and muscular frame bearing the scars of their fury. Yet those marks seemed to serve only as grim reminders of his resolve, not as deterrents.

In Telaga Town, Havi was a shadow, a spectre who moved with cunning precision and left chaos in his wake. The community seethed with frustration, yearning for justice, yet time and again, Havian proved too clever, too slippery to be caught.

He was the embodiment of a problem they could not solve, a menace that lurked just beyond their reach.

The proverb 'No matter how clever the squirrel is at leaping, it will fall eventually', seemed, on this occasion, to resonate with a dreadful inevitability in Havi's heart.

He stood trapped in a narrow, grimy alleyway, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the stolen bag still clutched tightly against his chest its contents, a testament to his reckless crime.

Before him, the angry faces of the villagers stared back, their expressions twisted with rage. A ragtag assembly, armed with the most rudimentary of weapons-wooden staves, iron rods, rough-hewn stones. Each one a weapon borne of frustration and thirst for vengeance.

Panic rose within Havi like a dark tide, threatening to swallow his thoughts. The reality of his position was clear, and the tightness in his chest told him that no cleverness, no quick wit, could save him now. The only option left was to fight his way through. He had no other choice.

Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, he pushed forward, his tall, athletic frame cutting through the throng like a wild animal seeking escape.

The stolen bag became an instrument of defense, swinging wildly in the air, striking at anyone who dared approach too closely.

For a fleeting moment, Havi's agility and strength gave him the upper hand. His movements were fluid, precise, a blur of motion as he darted between the villagers, avoiding the blows aimed at him. But the mob, growing ever more desperate, pressed in, a human wall of fury and retribution.

It was then that his fleeting advantage vanished. From the edge of the crowd, a hulking figure emerged his face a mask of determination and anger.

With a swift motion, he raised an iron rod, and before Havi could react, the heavy metal struck him in the back of the head with a resounding thud.

The world around him spun into a haze of pain and disorientation, his legs buckling beneath him as he crumpled to the cobblestones. The air seemed to still, the clamour of the mob fading into the background as he lay there, daze.

In that moment, Havi knew, without a doubt, the truth of the old adage. The squirrel may leap, but in the end, it always fall.

Clang

The sound of metal striking flesh rang out sharply, cutting through the chaotic clamor of the crowd. It was a sickeningly loud noise, one that seemed to echo in the air long after it had been made.

The villagers, momentarily stunned by the force of the blow, fell silent. For a moment, all that could be heard was the dull hum of the world around them.

Havi crumpled to the ground, his body folding in on itself like a rag doll. He fell face-first, the impact with the earth leaving a sickening thud as his blood began to pool on the cobblestones beneath him.

The stolen bag, still tightly gripped in his hand, lay beside him, a stark contrast to the stillness that had now descended upon the scene.

One of the villagers, his face pale with shock, broke the silence. "Ah… it seems we've gone too far this time!" he muttered, his voice filled with a twinge of regret. His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of what had just transpired.

"Quick! Call an ambulance! We need to save him first!" another voice commanded urgently.

The speaker, a woman with a voice laced with authority, pushed forward, her gaze never leaving Havi's prone form. "I'll handle the police later," she added with a firmness that left no room for argument.

But even as the order was given, the tension in the air was palpable. The crowd, once furious and bloodthirsty, now stood in uneasy silence, their collective gaze fixed on the middle-aged man who had, in the span of a single moment, gone from criminal to victim.

One of the villagers swiftly made a call to the nearest hospital, and within fifteen minutes, the ambulance arrived with a screech of tyres.

The paramedics, quick and efficient, assessed Havi's condition, noting that he still showed signs of life, though faint.

Together, the ambulance crew, assisted by a few of the villagers involved in the attack, carefully lifted Havi into the vehicle.

With a brief, sharp exchange of words, the ambulance sped off, its siren wailing as it tore through the streets, racing against time.

Among the crowd, the middle-aged woman who had been the victim of the mugging earlier watched the scene unfold, a complicated mix of emotions playing across her face.

Though Havi had wronged her, she couldn't shake the pity that stirred within her as she watched him, now the victim of the mob's fury.

The violence had been excessive for a mere thief, she thought. Perhaps, she reasoned, his crime wasn't driven by wanton pleasure, but by need, a desperation that perhaps no one had stopped to consider.

She had glimpsed his face in those fleeting moments. A strikingly handsome middle-aged man, with a well-built, athletic frame that suggested he might have had a different life ahead of him, had fate been kinder.

It troubled her. 'How could such a man, with all that promise, fall into such disgrace? What had led him down this path? It seemed impossible that someone so outwardly perfect could resort to such criminal acts. What is happening to the world?' she thought bitterly.

Why would a man like him, with such good looks, turn to a life of crime, when surely he could have found something better?

She found herself almost wishing she could turn back time. Perhaps, if she had met him under different circumstances, she could have offered him a job, or better yet, a new path entirely.

But now, of course, it was too late. The damage had been done. The rice was already in the pot, as the saying went.

The woman, Nuriana Salim, aged 55, a wealthy businesswoman with investments in various industries throughout Telaga, stood amidst the remaining villagers, recounting the events of the mugging to the arriving police officers.

She spoke with clarity, her tone steady, as did the others involved, who offered their accounts without hesitation or embellishment. They had all, in their own way, regretted the violence, the brutal assault, and the rash desire for retribution.

Officer Wildan Prakoso, a man of 32, sighed heavily as he listened to their testimony. He turned to face the crowd, his expression heavy with regret.

With a wave of his hand, he motioned for the onlookers to disperse. One by one, the villagers moved away, their faces reflecting the guilt and sorrow that hung thick in the air.

Only Nuriana remained, standing resolutely. She had made up her mind. She would go to the hospital where Havi was being treated.

Initially, Wildan had tried to dissuade her, arguing that her statement, along with the others, had been more than sufficient.

If anything further came of the situation, he assured her, the police would notify her immediately.

But something in Nuriana's manner softened the officer's resolve. Her determination, combined with the quiet sincerity in her voice, broke through his professional distance.

He finally relented, but only after reminding her that her visit was for the purpose of settling the hospital bills. With a solemn nod, he agreed to accompany her.

"Thank you, Officer... once again, thank you," Nuriana said, her voice polite as she bowed slightly in gratitude.

"What's important, ma'am, is that you're certain about covering the hospital expenses," Wildan replied, his tone warm but firm.

"Rest assured, I will," she answered with certainty, her gaze unwavering.

And so, with the matter settled, Officer Wildan and Nuriana made their way to the hospital where Havi was receiving urgent care, the heavy silence between them punctuated only by the distant hum of the city day.

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