Evan thought he was finally part of something big—FBI clearance, palm tree HQs, exotic coffee beans, and memes with actual national security consequences.
But to Kodi?
He was just a soft-voiced toy with a badge. A means to an end. A nice guy with decent Wi-Fi.
And Kodi never played fair.
Location: Kodi's "Safehouse" – Somewhere in South America
Kodi sat alone now. Hammock empty. Laughter gone. His laptop screen glowed with encrypted surveillance footage—grainy images of his mom and two younger brothers entering what the Bureau called "feral protection custody."
Translation: leverage.
They hadn't told Evan. They didn't have to.
"They think I'm still motivated by fear," Kodi whispered, sipping lukewarm coffee. "Like I'm the same kid who watched his mom get dragged away in cuffs."
He ran a hand through his hair. Looked tired. For once.
"But I'm not scared of the FBI. I'm scared of who I'll become if I let this go."
Location: FBI Blacksite Briefing Room
Evan had just been handed a file—confidential, red-stamped, sealed with a level of clearance he technically didn't have.
"Your boy's being used," a quiet voice said from behind him. It was Director Nash, a woman whose face could make grown agents sweat. "We never planned to protect his family. Just bait him long enough for NullSyntax to gut Eden."
Evan froze. He'd been lied to.
Again.
"He's going to burn us to the ground," Nash added, with an eerie calm. "And frankly… he should."
Location: Underground Facility – NullSyntax HQ
Meanwhile, NullSyntax stood in a room filled with blue-lit servers. His rebuilt body—a blend of carbon fiber and old war hardware—gleamed in the dark. Marek stood at his side, still unsure whose side he was even on.
"You think Kodi's gonna sit and let us have Eden?" Marek asked.
"Kodi's already lost," NullSyntax grinned. "His attachments are a noose, not armor."
He pointed to a monitor. On it: Kodi's mother… his brothers… the so-called FBI safehouse.
"And the best part?" NullSyntax chuckled. "He thinks he's still in control."
Back to Kodi – 24 Hours Later
Kodi stood at the top of a mountain peak, alone. No laptop. No surveillance.
Just silence.
Then, a single text sent from a burner phone:
To: Evan"Don't worry about me. I always win in the end. Just make sure when the world turns upside down, you're not still sitting at the kids' table."
Final Scene:
Kodi, climbing into a black van with a duffel bag of old-school tech—pre-internet, analog, almost forgotten.
"No more tricks," he muttered. "No more codes."
"It's just me now."
Pause.
"And I'm going to bury NullSyntax with my bare hands."
Cue thunder in the distance and the faint sound of old modem static.