Anderson waited near the terminal entrance, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a pair of tinted glasses hiding brown eyes that never stopped scanning.
I spotted him instantly—deep brown skin, a little over six feet tall. There was something about the way he stood, like a man too familiar with danger to ever really relax.
"Didn't think we'd be flying commercial," I muttered as I walked up.
He smirked without turning. "You're not important enough for a private jet."
"Same goes for you, apparently," I retorted.
We moved through the crowd like shadows, the clatter of suitcases and hides conversations swirling around us. The air felt thick with too many bodies, the smell of stale coffee and perfume mixing with the sharpness of sterile, over polished floors. Every movement felt like a calculated risk. Too many exits, too many potential eyes on us. I wanted to be anywhere but here.
We sat in a quiet lounge near the gate, the terminal noise dulled behind glass. Anderson leaned in, voice low.
He handed me a plain black file jacket. Inside a wallet, ID, and other forged documents all under the name Tobias Anderson. My new identity, a culmination of truths and lies.
"Tobi Anderson, your father," he said. "Your history is clean—transferred from a private tech school up north, mother's deceased, father recently moved jobs to Stockholm. Keep the lie simple. Stick to the facts you remember."
"Father? Seriously?" I raised an eyebrow, not sure whether to laugh or groan. "I don't know who's going to buy it, but you'd make a terrible one anyway," I said with a smirk.
I could see the brief flicker of something in his eyes, like I'd hit a nerve, but he shrugged it off. "Well you're adopted—that should clear up most of the questions."
I stared down at the photo. My face. My real face, No dye, no contacts. It took some time to adjust, I still sometimes expected to see something else.
He tapped the side of his bag, then unzipped a hidden compartment and pulled out a slim tablet.
"Everything we know about the academy is here. It's not much, but it's better than going in blind,"
I scrolled through it in silence. Names flashed by—administrators, students, floor plans.
"You already guessed it. They are holding your friends from Eden hostage," he said, his voice darkened.
"Every time you step out of line, fail a test, miss a check-in, or blow your cover, they kill one of them."
My jaw clenched. "Do you know where they are?"
He hesitated, just for a split second, but that was enough to tell me everything I needed to know. He didn't have the answer to my question, that meant he was expendable— the perfect person to watch me.
"No. But they'll send you proof every time one dies. Letters. Photos. Pieces." He paused. "You'll know."
The tablet dimmed in my hand. My chest felt too tight to breathe.
"They want me scared," I said.
"They want you loyal."
I didn't know which was worse.
Anderson stood and adjusted his coat. "There's someone else inside already. Embedded just like you. But I won't tell you who."
"Why?"
"Because if you slip, it keeps them safe."
I stared at him, searching for any sign of doubt in his eyes. But his face was unreadable, he had steeled his resolve. I wasn't his son, just his assignment.
The flight was smooth. Quiet. I sat by the window, watching the megacity fall away beneath us. Tokyo blurred into green ridges and winding rivers, the metal spine of Kanto fading as the plane cut toward New Scandinavia.
Far out beyond the wing, I caught a glimpse of one of the escorts—just a flicker of movement in the clouds, too fast and fluid to be mechanical. One of the fliers of the Air Defence Force, keeping pace with the aircraft like it was nothing. There'd be another on the opposite side, and a third resting in the cabin, waiting for rotation.
Anderson didn't say much, and I didn't ask.
I tried to sleep, but it eluded me. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw ghosts from my past, testaments to my mistakes. Blake in that trash can, a man drowning in a river, another falling off a skyscraper, a boy bleeding out on the floor.
When we landed, it was dark. Stockholm was quieter than Tokyo, but just as strange—colder, spread along frozen waterways, lit by sterile neon and snow-reflected skyglow.
Our new home sat on the edge of the district. A modest two-story house tucked between silent neighbors. It felt too perfect. Like it had been waiting for us.
Inside, the walls were bare. The lights worked. The water ran. And there was nothing of us anywhere.
"You'll train here," Anderson said, dropping his bag on the floor. "Until the exam."
I blinked. "Exam? You didn't think it was necessary to tell me that two weeks ago?" I snapped
He looked at me like I'd asked what color the sky was.
"Aegis Academy is the gateway into Aegis. Did you think they would just let anyone in?. You want in, you pass the entrance trials. One month from now. Physical aptitude. Combat tactics. Tactical recall. Psychological pressure. The works."
"And if I fail, they kill one," I said, my voice deadpan. I knew there was no point in getting angry with him, he was just a cog in the system. It wasn't his fault, not really.
The room spun for a second. I sat down hard on the stairs.
"You're strong, Tobias," Anderson said, voice quieter now. "But that's it, you lack experience and proper training, but I'm going to fix that."
I didn't answer.
He didn't wait for one.
He walked past me, into the hall, the sound of his boots echoing down the house like the tick of a timer already running out.