Bad Boy Agents

Valid proof

The two men came home with different results. He came home empty-handed, without having a chance to meet his son. He rode his two-tax motorbike on a crowded street with a sad feeling instead of a bitch.

Can be seen from the left rearview mirror, his eyes were red and wet with a lot of disappointment. The moist eyes occasionally blink slowly, making clear water droplets again, wetting the eye bags that begin to wrinkle. He rubbed the liquid with rough clear water using his sturdy arm again tattooed and occasionally he let dry himself carried away by the wind.

His longing was forced to endure because of a condition that made them unable to meet. Fortunately, the people in that place would accept the food he brought, so as not to waste. Only, he did not know what to explain to the wife if later asked.

The rough breathing from Barkah's mouth was clear, blending with the hot breeze from the scorching sun. The new shirt he was wearing looked futile, no one saw his cool appearance.

After a few months, only this time he dared to stick himself in the glass, wearing the best clothes he used to wear, in fact useless. There was nothing he could do just to let go of longing.

An hour passed, and Barkah had just arrived at his house. He immediately took his motorbike into the alley to his house. The wife who was serving customers was able to peek out of the window.

“Tumben his face like a shirt not ironed? Really tangled bye!” mira muttered as she saw the fleeting face of her husband passing by the window. Even though this morning was like a toothpaste advertisement, the smile continued before leaving.

Usually the face of Barkah bright cheerful, like a new sun rising in the east there. This time it was like there was no light illuminating his tanned face.

“Mpok, want to pay dong,” said a customer who distracted Mira.

“Eh, yes...” The woman was forced to turn her head, letting her husband enter first. “All serratus forty-two thousand. Fitting money, I have no change,” added Mira after counting some portions of soto purchased by her customers.

“Nih bye, fitting yes...” Lucky the customer gave the money in the right amount.

“Iya, thanks. Come by here again. Be careful on the road,” Mira said with a small smile.

“Iya Mpok,” timpal three people who immediately leave the store soto Mpok Mira.

After the three customers left, Mira immediately approached her husband. The man was sitting on his old sofa. His sad face looked up to hold back the rate of tears, no chirping was heard, but usually Barkah was very carefree after meeting his son.

“Where? She ate her soto?” Mira asked directly. She stood in front of her husband and looked at him curiously.

Barkah rubbed his sad face, then turned to look at the face of the wife who was waiting for her story. The man shook his head.

“Asaan lo cow kayak bells want to cut?” Mira was curious. His face was too cold and serious.

“Gue can't find him,” said Barkah desperately.

Mira nodded, her bright face turning soft. “She's raging again?” Mira asked timidly.

Barkah just nodded slowly then bowed languidly. Putting out her wet palms, each other.

In a different place Shaka walks hurriedly into his house. He just left his bike in the basement. Sometimes he ran up the stairs to his room to check what he was looking for.

Arriving in the room, he immediately opened the desk drawer. Take Rasya's diary and open each page in haste. His eyes were round looking one-by-one pages so as not to be missed.

This is the page he was looking for. Rasya's writing that seemed desperate about the bullying he experienced. Shaka immediately took out the paper he had stored in his pocket. The paper he found in the Gayatri flower bucket matched it.

“Akh, shit!” shaka grunts when he sees that the writing is the same. Pull his hand, the characters used are also the same. Even though the writing on the bucket list is short, it can represent the characters of the letters that Shaka is matching.

Shaka's bowed body was now staggered. He fell on the floor leaning on his bed. He looked at Rasya's diary and the piece of paper he held in his trembling right hand.

At this moment, he realized that Rasya's death message was written by the same person. Both of them believed Dion's writings. How could?

“AAARRGGGHHH!!!!!” shaka shouted loudly while holding his head. His voice echoed throughout his spacious room.

“Job! Goddamn bum! Goddamn it!!” shaka shouted while beating the floor of his room with his big fist. The emotional man is convinced that Dion killed his sister. Shaka was pensive for a while, he put the diary beside his feet, with Dion's writing on a piece of paper. The young man hugged his bent leg while looking at Dion's writing.

His tears flowed, imagining Rasya dead at the hands of the man. As his eyes become more and more rounded, he must quickly gather evidence that shows Dion's involvement in the younger brother's death. His hands clenched violently as Dion's face appeared in his eye pelvis. Three things Shaka must find out now, the evidence of the shoe trail, the motive and the way Dion executed the younger brother.

Those are the three things to look for now.

in the midst of his grief, Shaka took a flat object that he had kept in his pocket. He was looking for a name he then called.

"Haloooo, my handsome boyfriend," a beautiful voice that then filled Shaka's ears. The man closed his eyes for a moment and regulated his heavy breathing.

"When did you take me into Dion's house?" shaka asked in a hurry.

"Rileks dong, how in a hurry? I have to find a way first. I have not yet published my dating status. Patience yes Shakaa. surely I'm full of my promise to make nganter lo enter the house of Dion," Lovely said in earnest.

Shaka exhaled a rough breath, his left hand pressed between his eyebrows that felt dizzy.

"Gue wait Beautiful, or our agreement will be void," this time Shaka ventured to threaten Indah.

"Yeah of Shaka. I'm getting to Dion's house. Patience, I'll have to find the right time," Beautiful voice sounded fierce, it seemed he realized that Shaka was not playing around.

Shaka did not chim in, he chose to end his call and put the phone lying near his feet. His re-heeled two feet that were not tired accompanied him through time filled with anxiety.

*****