09:46 PM – NPU Headquarters, North Metro, Helipad
The whirring of the rotors cut through the night air like something out of a horror film sharp, relentless, impossible to ignore. Garrick leaned halfway out of the cockpit, headset hanging off one ear, that trademark cocky grin plastered firmly across his face.
"Try not to make me save your ass next time," he called out over the noise.
Adrian stepped down onto the pad, adjusting his jacket with deliberate slowness. "Maybe you should try flying smoother."
"Bold of you to think I wasn't already doing that," Garrick shot back, grin widening.
Adrian couldn't help but smirk despite himself. "Well, consider it my way of repaying you for the commentary. Ciao."
"Ciao, you menace," Garrick replied, shaking his head with something that looked almost like fondness.
Concrete swallowed Adrian whole the moment he stepped inside. The buzzing fluorescents overhead and the faint, lingering scent of jet fuel followed him down the stairs. He always took the stairs. Elevators felt too much like traps.
10:00 PM – NPU Headquarters, Captain Elias's Office
A folder, a drive, a pile of photos they slid across the desk like evidence in one of those melodramatic courtroom dramas people watched to feel better about their own lives.
Elias kept his voice steady. No need to raise it. His gaze alone did all the heavy lifting. "Reckless as hell."
The words hung in the air like smoke.
"Pull another stunt like that, and I'll bury you in reports so deep you won't see daylight again. Close calls like that get people killed, Adrian."
Adrian crossed his arms, utterly unfazed. "What, are you my mother now? Just take the recording. If you actually want this mission to move forward, I need inside intel by tomorrow. Founders, co-founders, blueprints something solid."
Elias hesitated. Just for a moment, really, but Adrian caught it anyway. "We're close. Just don't push it." He glanced at the clock on his desk. "And it's past 10:30. Time for you to head home."
Adrian smirked again—that sharp, weary smile he'd perfected over the years. "Yeah, yeah. Nice to know my boss is so eager to kick me out. Ciao."
"Ciao," Elias replied, almost as an afterthought. Then, quieter: "Take care."
Adrian paused at the door, surprised despite himself. But he didn't turn around. Just kept walking.
10:37 PM – North Metro, Highway 27, En Route to Safehouse
The Lamborghini Vision GT sliced through the empty streets like a blade through water, headlights dancing patterns on the wet asphalt. Adrian drove with one hand, cigarette balanced in the other, flicking ash into the night air through the cracked window.
The city blurred by in streaks of neon and shadow, but his mind? Not a chance. There wasn't enough nicotine in the entire world to clear that particular fog.
10:54 PM – North Metro, Adrian's Safehouse
The gate scanned his fingerprint with a soft beep, and the reinforced door buzzed open reluctantly, like it didn't really want him back.
Inside was, frankly, pure chaos. Ash hung in the air like a second atmosphere. The couch smelled distinctly of old sweat and burnt tobacco, and stacks of paper slid against each other in precarious towers that looked ready to collapse at the slightest provocation. Adrian locked the door. Then the deadbolt. Then the chain. Then the secondary bolt he'd installed himself. A ritual against ghosts he couldn't shake and threats he couldn't quite name.
Finally, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. Collapsed onto the couch. Lighter in hand. He sparked another cigarette, its glow flickering against his restless black eyes.
The phone rang, cutting through the silence like a knife.
It was Elias.
"File's in your inbox," came the dry voice on the other end. "Informant's willing to talk. Read it. Ciao."
"Ciao," Adrian replied automatically, already thumbing through his phone screen.
The file unfolded before him like something out of a nightmare.
WITNESS-FILE // ACCESS GRANTED
⚠ WARNING: CONTENT ADVISORY
This file contains whistleblowing testimony, documented corporate corruption, high-risk exposure, and impending mortality. Proceed at your own discretion.
FILE: SUBJECT OF INTEREST
[SC] - MARCUS VARIAS
Age: 36
Profile: Born in Canada. Current position: low-level data analyst at Nexo Pharmaceutical. Gained irregular access to high-clearance logs and classified archives through a system flaw that remains, troublingly, unexplained.
Personality: Quiet backbone. Burdened by guilt. Reluctantly brave in that awful, tragic way people get when they know they're running out of time. Knows his life expectancy is short. Suffers from chronic restlessness and severe insomnia.
Appearance: Brown hair. Green eyes. Tanned skin. Slight build. Nervous gait the kind that makes you think he's always looking over his shoulder. Because he probably is.
Languages: English (native). Italian (partial, conversational). Russian (semi-fluent but fractured, learned under circumstances unknown).
STATUS: Active employee at Nexo Pharmaceutical. Potential informant. Risk level: EXTREME.
NOTES:
Marcus claims, and I quote: "I can't stomach what they're doing anymore."
Driven less by survival instinct, more by an overwhelming need to confess. He has hinted at hidden projects, experimental programs running off the books, and executive-level corruption that reaches higher than anyone wants to admit. He hasn't revealed hard data yet—just keeps saying that "it runs deeper than anyone imagines."
SURVIVAL ODDS: <7%
Trust level:Unstable, but appears genuine.
**TRANSMISSION END.**
Adrian leaned back against the couch, smoke curling lazily above him. The words weighed on him more heavily than ash ever could. He hated that heaviness. Hated that it still affected him after everything.
He shut off the phone. Stubbed out the cigarette with more force than necessary. Changed into loose cotton pants and an old T-shirt that had definitely seen better days. Darkness enveloped the safehouse completely as he killed the lights one by one.
Sleep, as always, would be a long time coming.
07:09 AM – Adrian's Safehouse, North Metro
Hot water blurred his vision in the shower, steam wrapping around him like a veil he just couldn't bring himself to trust. He stayed there way too long forehead pressed against the cold tile waiting for that elusive moment of clarity, you know?
But clarity? It didn't show up. Just more steam and the persistent echoes of mistakes he'd rather not think about.
At last, he dragged himself out of the shower, towel loosely draped over his hips, still dripping wet. He glanced at the clock on the wall.
Great. He was already late.
He dressed quickly: dark shirt, shoulder holster clicking into place with practiced ease, jacket pulled on without ceremony. That first sip of coffee from the chipped mug was like bitter fire sliding down his throat, jolting him into something resembling alertness.
The file, Marcus's file still tasted metallic in his mind. Almost like blood.
07:42 AM – North Metro, Arterial Road, En Route to NPU
The Lamborghini merged smoothly into the heavy morning traffic. Adrian's jaw was tight, his eyes moving constantly from one mirror to another, scanning, always scanning.
That's when he noticed it.
A black sedan. Following him. Quietly. Deliberately. Getting closer but never quite catching up.
The windows were tinted dark,too dark to see through. The driver was calm. Professional. Just... observing.
Observing for far too long.
Adrian's pulse kicked up a notch. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
And then, just like that, it was gone. Vanished into a side street like it had never been there at all.
The traffic light ahead turned green. The lane cleared.
But Adrian stayed where he was for a heartbeat longer than necessary, frozen in place while cars honked irritably behind him.
His heart? It was pounding.
Yeah. The city was definitely watching.