The night air sliced past Riven as he sprinted across the rooftops, the echo of alarms and sirens fading behind him. Skyline Tower was already far in the distance, its upper windows a blur of lights and glass. But he didn't stop.
Someone had seen him.
He didn't know who. Just that a figure had been standing in the window across the street, masked and still, watching him execute Elijah Roth.
And now, that same figure was chasing him.
Glass shattered behind him as the figure burst through the window, landing in a crouch like something out of a high-budget action flick. Whoever they were, they were fast—unnaturally fast.
Riven leapt across a gap between buildings. A split-second later, the figure did the same, effortlessly closing the distance.
Then came the glow.
Bright, sharp—binary code streamed along the person's arms, blue and electric. It formed into a sleek sword of data, crackling with power.
"Execution Code," Riven muttered.
The figure dashed forward, sword raised. Riven blocked with his forearm, the digital glow on his hand reacting just in time. Sparks flew. He rolled away, jumping to another rooftop.
They clashed again.
Code clashed against code—red against blue. The fight was quick, almost elegant, like watching two streams of raw energy collide. But he was outmatched. She was faster, cleaner, sharper.
With a swift kick behind his knee, he dropped to one leg—and then the blade stopped just inches from his face.
The mask came off.
And she smiled.
"Relax," she said. "If I wanted you dead, you'd already be dead."
Riven blinked. "Then why the hell did you chase me?"
"To see if you were worth recruiting."
He stared at her, chest still heaving. "Recruiting?"
"Yeah. Death Protocol sent me. You go the system, which means you're one of us now."
His stomach growled.
She tilted her head. "You're starving."
"No shit."
"Let's eat. You're useless like this."
Spice Noodle Bar wasn't fancy. Neon lights, rusty seats, and a cracked screen looping old sports matches. But the noodles were hot, and Riven didn't care about anything else.
His chaser, now recruiter—sat across from him, sipping black coffee like she didn't just sprint across half the city with a digital sword.
"You eat like a stray," she said, smirking.
"I haven't had a proper meal in days."
She sipped her coffee. "You will now. We get paid. You'll make enough to eat and pay rent, maybe take me out sometime."
"You make it sound like a job."
"It is."
He slurped another mouthful. "So what are you? A hitman?"
She shrugged. "Yes and no. We don't take contracts. We don't kill for money. We kill because the system demands it. Only the corrupt, the monsters, the ones justice never touches. But yeah—we're executioners. We erase the filth."
He set his chopsticks down. "So that's it.
She looked at him. "You have the Execution Code. You've been chosen, there's no going back."
"Great." He leaned back, full but still exhausted. "At least I get paid."
She laughed. "That's the spirit."
He studied her. "You never told me your name."
"Lucy."
"Riven."
"I know," she said with a grin. "You're all over the network now. Well, encrypted within our system. The outside world doesn't know you. But we do."
They walked through the underground metro lines, Lucy leading the way. Eventually, they emerged in front of a towering skyscraper—black glass, pulsing lights.
"This is HQ," she said. "Death Protocol base. New York City, 2040."
A biometric scanner flashed as she stepped forward. The door slid open with a soft hum.
Inside, the lobby gleamed—polished steel, floating screens, and large banners of binary rain descending endlessly. Drones hovered quietly, scanning faces.
"Security's tight," Riven muttered.
"Has to be."
An elevator at the end of the hall opened. As they entered, Lucy placed her palm on a panel.
[Executor Verified: Lucy | Rank: B-Class]
[New Executor Detected: Riven Kane | Rank: C-Class (unregistered)]
The elevator shot up.
"Death Protocol isn't a game," Lucy said. "We fight monsters. But we're not saints either."
The doors opened.
A hallway stretched ahead, lit by soft blue lights. Digital waterfalls ran down the glass walls—code flowing endlessly.
At the end stood a heavy steel door.
Lucy pushed it open.
The office was dark, intimidating. One giant window overlooked the entire city. Shelves stacked with files.
And behind a metal desk sat a man.
Bald. Built like a tank. A black man with a thick scar slashing over his right eye.
He smoked a fat cigar. Didn't even flinch when they walked in.
"So," he said, voice deep as thunder. "You're the newbie."
Riven didn't respond.
"Name's Cigar," the man said. "I run this place. Death Protocol. We're the line between order and chaos."
He pointed a gloved hand.
"You kill monsters, we keep you save. You break rules, we erase you."
Riven narrowed his eyes. "Charming introduction."
Lucy laughed. "He's always like this."
"Team, get in here," Cigar barked.
Three more figures entered:
James – tall, lean, silent. Blue shades hiding tired eyes. Kelvin – muscular, always chewing gum. Moses – young and grinning.
"This is your squad," Cigar said. "Don't die."
Kelvin grinned. "He looks soft."
"I've killed two scumbags in 24 hours," Riven shot back.
James raised an eyebrow. "Let's see if he survives the week."
Lucy clapped her hands. "Welcome to Death Protocol, Riven Kane. Judgment just got serious."
Riven stared at them all. The system pulsed softly in his head.
A new chapter had begun.
And there was no turning back.