WOLVIRE

Blood flowed down from the neck of the man sitting slumped in the room. Wet the black tuxedo he used and the floor underneath it with a thick puddle. His gray hair was stained red and looked sticky, a drop of blood flowed to his forehead. The person's shoulders and chest did not budge. There was no sign of his breathing remaining.

A few steps from the corpse, a woman on her back with an odd position and neck full of blood. Her pale face implies pain. Her lips were open, as if the woman in white dress had time to scream before someone were cut off her veins of her neck. Beside her, knelt down a man who was nodding with feelings of hurt; the man named Rudi turned his head as fast as a gust of wind, his dark eyes staring at another man who stood not far from him with hatred.

“Opo sing mok karepke?”

(What do you want?) Rudi growled low. Slowly and slightly trembling, he stood up.

The enemy grinned under the hood of his black batik motif. The robe moves as the owner's arms stretched out as if to embrace someone.

“Opo sing tak karepke?” the batik robed man laughed. “Aku sing goblok, opo kowé sing pekok? Kowé wêruh opo pengarepanku!”

(Am I the stupid one or are you an idiot? You know what I want!)

Rudi clenched his hands in anger. “Anakku wés mati, Sétan!”

(My child is dead, you Satan!)

The one called Satan by Rudi tilted his head in amusement. “Aku uduk cah cilik, Rud. Anakmu séhat, ora loro, ora dipatèni, opo manèh mati ngêndhat! Mok dhêlikake nek endi bocahé?!”

(I am not a child, Rud. Your child is healthy, not sick, not killed, let alone killing herself! Where are you hiding her?)

Rudi chuckled sadly. “Kowé ora perlu wêruh opo-opo bab panggonané anakku. Arep kok gawé opo dhèwèké? Anakku duwé hak urip! Ojo ganggu dhèwèké!”

(You do not need to know anything about where my child is. What do you want her to do? My child has the right to live! Do not disturb her!)

Batik-robed men shot like lightning. Within milliseconds, Rudi's neck was already in his grip.

“Ojo neko-neko karo aku, 'cok!”

(Do not mess with me, damn it!) the batik-robed man growled in an animal-like voice. His face contorted with anger. His strangulation grew tighter, but Rudi did not budge.

Rudi snorted. “Aku mung berusaha dadi wong tuwo sing apik kanggo anakku.”

(I am just trying to be a good parent to my child.)

The enemy grits his teeth. “Bakal tak sepuro awakmu, anggêr gêlêm nyerahaké anakmu ning aku!”

(I will forgive you, as long as you want to give up your child to me!)

Rudi's face twisted angrily. Hatred burned his eyes. He spat, right into the face of the enemy before him.

Batik-robed man shouted furiously. With a blink of an eye, he broke Rudi's neck without any significant effort. Black blood splattered until it splashed on the face of the killer. Rudi's head ejected and rolled then stopped beside the head of his dead wife. The enemy flung his headless body roughly.

“Bakal tak golèki anakmu, Rud. Bakal tak golèki.”

(I will find your child, Rud. I will find her.)

The man in the batik robe turned around, then left his handwork there.

((The above language is Javanese.))