The room was quiet, Arman sat cross legged on the floor staring at the DG-2 USB drive for a long time, spinning it between his fingers, he sat in his room, the door was locked, curtains drawn, a part of him didn't want to know the content of the drive, but the other part, the one that couldn't sleep, that stared into shadows and read codes in class lectures, that part needed answers.
His hands trembled as he inserted the drive into his laptop, the cursor blinked on the screen, waiting.
Double click.
The folders loaded slowly, almost too slowly, inside were three directories;
*RECORDINGS*
*CUSTOM LOGS*
*DIRECTIVE-E*
His hands hovered for a second "The first and the second's names seems ordinary... but this...mhh!! DIRECTIVE-E... I wonder what it contains, lemmi check it out" he was speaking to no one but himself.
The cursor moved directly to the last one, double click, the folder was open, inside it was one video file, nothing else, just the video named *VID_GDN_2002_FINAL* without the least hesitation he click-played it.
The screen flickered to life, a video played, the quality was rough, grainy, it looked like surveillance footage shot at an angle, two men stood in a dimly lit room stacked with shipping crates and large metal containers, one wore a gray jacket, Professor Gilbert Nwoko, the other wore a black jacket, he was unmistakable, even in the low resolution, David Gonzalez, both were in their younger versions, the two were arguing about something.
"Gilbert," David said, "You said this protocal was about securing International Transport lines, what is this now"
The camera adjusted, revealing Professor Nwoko, a much younger version, pacing in front of stacked crates, "It is, David, it's just... broader than you imagined"
"This isn't just freight, these are manifests for dissapearances, you are rerouting people"
Professor Nwoko's voice was calm and cold, "We're not just moving cargo, we're moving control"
"This is not what i signed up for, Gilbert" David said,
"We both knew what Protocal Runway meant, and you, you walked into this willingly"
"No, I didn't, I thought I did, I walked into a lie, but this...you are moving lives, you're silencing people...there are lives at stake, this...this is a ghost network"
Nwoko paused, he looked at David for a second "Walk away, David, just like the others, walk away"
David took one step close to Gilbert "You forget one thing Gilbert, I AM NOT LIKE THE OTHERS" The camera jolted, the video footage cut out with a *snap* of interference.
Arman's breath hitched, he sat in stunned silence, his heart thudded against his chest, he leaned back, he had seen the man who raised him standing in the heart of something corrupt, but standing against it, his father had known, his Professor, Gilbert Nwoko had been involved all along, and now he is in the middle of it, he had always wondered why his father died, now he feared he was murdered
His screen lit up, a notification from the Ghost Knights Discord Server:
>LIVE MATCH - Stream Starts In 5 Minutes
He blinked rapidly, still in shock, he clicked out of the video and minimized all windows, then quickly adjusted his mic, checked his cam settings to make sure its off, then, he launched the match interface.
His In-game name Its_cana, flashed across the top-left corner of the screen, the waiting lobby filled up with thousands of viewers who tuned in as teams from across East Africa faced off in a streamed qualifier, Instagram, Youtube, Tiktok and African Arena servers all hosted the event, the virtual crowd was thunderous.
Cameras flicked from player cams to in-game feeds, Arman adjusted his matte black headset, beside him on the screen, Peter's cam was live, his mic crackled
"Yo Cana, you good bro?" Peter's voice buzzed through DIscord, "Yeah im good bruh" Arman lied, he wasn't good, not even the least
"Everyone on deck?" Peter asked the others,
"We all set" they all responded in a unison
"Silent As Ghosts!!" Peter initiated their battle cry
"Deadly As Knights" the rest finished up
"Let's Win"
The countdown began.
3...
He adjusted his keyboard
2...
Warm sweats slid down his spine as the screen turned red and gold.
1...
The match was live.
.......
The eSports match exploded into motion, from the moment the draft phase began, the enemy had no chance, the synergy among the Ghost Knights was like clockwork, commentators spoke rapidly in three languages.
The battlefield exploded into action, spells, combos, tactical rotation, everything was going smoothly, Ghost Knights rotated early in the first round, collapsing mid and stealing the Turtle twice in five minutes, Its_cana's Lancelot danced between towers, slicing the enemy assasin with inch-perfect Phantom Execution.
Commentators were losing their minds:
"He's a ghost, Its_cana is a ghost!!" one shouted, "He was just in bottom lane, how did he reappear in their jungle?"
Even the stream chat was wild:
"MLBB Legend tier incoming!"
"Is Its_cana a script??"
"Cherry for MVP, wait wait wait no, Cana, Cherry...ugh, OMG"
Arman's reflexes took over, his team held the edge, until midway through round two, Xiorra (Peter) called out
"Focus left flank"
During the final rotation to Lord, just before delivering the killing blow that swung the game, his second monitor had flashed something strange
His webcam, off for months had turned on, not just that, It streamed his face, his setup and worst of it all, the DG-2 USB sitting in plain sight next to his gaming keyboard.
Arman flinched, he hadn't activated, it wasn't even assigned to the stream layout, the camera had gone live for seven seconds, just long enough.
The viewers were already commenting about it, in a matter of seconds the chat exploded:
"Yo Its_cana got his cam on"
"Its_cana face reveal???"
"Whoaaa he looks DEAD serious!"
"Wait is that a USB stick? Zoom in"
"Why does he look SCARED?"
"That's not part of the stream! Mods??"
"He's has quite a good looking face..LOL"
His stomach dropped, he yanked the USB from his laptop and slammed his hand over the webcam, his mic was still hot
"Shit" he cursed
More actions flowed in, he alt-tabbed, shut the webcam manually and muted his mic, he played on like nothing happened, him playing jungle Lancelot ran patterns no bot could predict, Xiorra stood unbreakable at the front lines as Atlas, initiating with Fatal Links at just the right time, Cherry was dominating with Yve, caging opponents with Real World Manipulation while Dubster baited dives on Paquito, maintaining the EXP pressure while Anime Girl's Brody melted towers under pressure, their coordination was precise, every ping, every flash, every silence was followed by a decisive collapse.
Its_cana played hard and sharp, he made ap control a nightmare for Venom East, he carried his team silently but his actions spoke louder than words, in the last minutes, he killed four opponents solo, finished off the enemy base and won the tie-breaker
*VICTORY*
The match was over, but the aftershocks were just beginning, Ghost Knights had just pulled off a historic win in the East African MLBB Regional Showcase streamed to over 80,000 viewers, it was a complete massacre to Venom East, they stood no chance against Ghost Knights, the squad's synergy was on another level, led by Its_cana, the calm and unpredicted jungle player
Their starting five had dominated:
Xiorra (Peter) - the unwavering tank, soaking every ambush with perfect timing
Cherry - a mage with sniper-like spell accuracy, landing flamestrike ults that left the entire teams scrambling
Dubster - EXP laner, a master of territorial control and relentless pressure
Anime Girl - the elusive marksman who slipped behind enemy lines to deal critical burst damage
Its_cana - silent but deadly, surgical and everywhere at once, whether taking exp lane or clearing jungle, his map sense was uncanny
The match had been a masterclass, but while the fans were screamed, Arman felt a weight grow inside, he wasn't celebrating, for a second, the world saw what he had never wanted anyone to see, his room, the USB labeled DG-2 and his face.
After the victory screen faded, he exited the Discord celebration room early, discord DMs, twitter pings and through all his social media account under the name Its_cana flocked with endless texts from the fans and some from trolls.
Arman pulled off his headset and stared at the black screen, still breathing hard, the adrenaline fro the match hadn't worn off, but it wasn't just the game, it was the exposure, the webcam, the USB drive on his desk, the way chat exploded, his inbox was already full, he closed the chat window, the discord server and his stream dashboard.
Then his phone buzzed, his screen lit up strangely, just a single message from an account with no profile pic, no name, no sender info, the sender could be said to be anonymous with no trace at all.
>You weren't supposed to show that
>You're being watched Its_cana
>Masaki Depot, Unit 43B. Go Now
There was no greeting, no handle, just that, he checked the message metadata, nothing, the timestamp was masked, IP trace came back null, whoever sent it was good, he looked at the flash drive, then at the photo frame of his father, then the message deleted itself before he could screenshot.
Arman backed away from his desk, his heartbeat echoed louder than the echoes of his teammates and fans celebrating in the discord channel, they were two worlds apart
There were no more answers and Masaki Depot had them, he turned back to the USB, the drive lay quietly where he had tossed it in the middle of the game, everything about it was still, silent and yet louder than any shout, someone had seen it and that someone clearly knew what it contained.
He walked to the window, looking outside the dark night, his chest heaved up and down sharply, he was deep in thoughts for any things that he is facing at the moment.
Then a knock came at the door, his mom.
His mother's voice, soft and cautious, " Arman..." she said quietly "There's a man outside, he's asking if Arman still lives here, he says he needs to speak to you, about a past agreement"
Time froze...
Arman's skin prickled, he unplugged the drive, wrapped it in a microfiber cloth and slid it into the lining of his backpack, he shoved everything into his backpack, laptop, USBs, gloves, portable charger, zipped the bag and pulled the hoodie tighter around his face
"I'm going out the back" he whispered to himself
He went through the back door, the cool night breeze rushing in, he sprinted into the darkness, his ind racing faster than his legs, the streetlights flickered as he rushed across his neighborhood, he dropped to the alley silently and texted his mother
"Don't worry about me mama, I'm okay, just dont answer the door"
A minute later, he was gone, ran with at top speed, he didn't stop until he reached the main road and hailed a boda.
"Ride me to Masaki...fast" he told the rider
The man didn't ask any questions
The driver took off fast as per requested
The night was waiting, so was Masaki Depot.