Fred moved quickly through the deserted streets, the silver key pressing coldly against his palm. Every minute wasted was a minute closer to failure. Somewhere, Adrian Velmont, Clara Reyes, and Marcus Thorne lived, breathed, plotted.
And he had to find one of them before sunrise—or the entire plan would unravel.
Above him, a clock tower struck midnight.
Twelve hollow gongs echoed through the empty city.
The hunt had truly begun.
---
The key led him to an ancient underground station, long forgotten and sealed off from the world. Thick vines grew over the rusted iron gates, and a heavy padlock hung like a sentinel on the doors.
Fred slid the key into the lock.
Click.
The doors groaned open, revealing a dark, yawning tunnel lined with cracked tiles and scattered debris.
Fred slipped inside.
The darkness swallowed him whole.
---
Inside, Fred heard whispers—soft, mocking laughter that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere.
He moved carefully, blade in hand.
At the end of the platform, under a flickering light, sat a single figure on a broken bench.
A man with a sharp jawline, dark hair slicked back, and a cigarette burning between his fingers.
Adrian Velmont.
Fred recognized him instantly from the few photos he had seen. The broker of forbidden knowledge.
Adrian raised an eyebrow as Fred approached, a lazy smirk playing at his lips.
"Took you long enough," Adrian drawled. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten cold feet."
Fred didn't answer immediately. He studied the man—the casual posture, the calm demeanor.
It was a mask.
Everything about Adrian was a performance.
Fred knew he was walking into a trap.
The question was: what kind?
---
"You're looking for answers," Adrian said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "Everyone who comes to me is."
Fred stayed silent.
"I can give them to you," Adrian continued. "Names, faces, histories... even futures, if you're willing to pay."
Fred narrowed his eyes. "And the price?"
Adrian chuckled, low and dangerous.
"Simple. Bring me Marcus Thorne."
The name dropped like a stone in a still pond.
"Alive?" Fred asked.
Adrian smiled wickedly. "Alive... for now. I have questions only he can answer."
Fred's mind raced. If he accepted, he would be playing into Adrian's hands. But if he refused, he might lose his only lead to Clara Reyes—and to whatever bigger game was unfolding around him.
---
Before Fred could respond, a gunshot echoed through the station.
The bullet hit the ground near Fred's feet, sending a spray of concrete chips into the air.
He spun around, blade ready.
Across the platform stood a second figure, hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat and a heavy coat.
Marcus Thorne.
He was faster than the rumors said, his movements sharp and lethal.
"Move away from him, kid," Marcus growled. His voice was rough, like gravel dragged across steel. "Velmont's poison. You work with him, you're dead before you even realize it."
Fred found himself trapped between two devils, each offering a different kind of death.
Adrian chuckled again, utterly unbothered by the gun aimed in his direction.
"Your move, Fred," he said smoothly. "Choose wisely."
---
Fred's pulse thundered in his ears. He had seconds to decide.
Trust Adrian and use him to find Clara Reyes…
Or trust Marcus, a known killer, but one who might be fighting for his own strange version of survival.
Either way, betrayal was inevitable.
It was only a matter of when.
Fred tightened his grip on his blade.
The city had taught him one thing above all:
In a world built on lies, the only truth is the choice you make when no one's watching.
And Fred was about to make his first.
---