The dim light in Oz’s workshop casts long shadows across the cluttered room. Jamie steps inside, his clothes still damp from the rain and his thoughts heavy with everything that’s happened in the past few hours. The familiar scent of old paint and rusted metal fills the air as his eyes adjust to the chaos around him. Half-finished sculptures, abstract art, and strange machinery litter the space, creating a labyrinth of Oz’s eccentric mind.
In the back, hunched over a table, Oz mutters to himself, his gnarled fingers tracing patterns on a massive canvas. He doesn’t acknowledge Jamie at first, engrossed in whatever vision he's trying to create. After a beat, Oz turns, grinning with a mixture of mischief and knowing in his eyes.“Ah, you made it,” Oz says, gesturing lazily for Jamie to take a seat. His voice carries that usual edge of sarcasm, but there's something deeper—something that weighs heavy beneath his casual tone. “You look like a man drowning in more than jJamie steps out of Oz’s place, the echo of their conversation still swirling in his mind. The rain that had poured relentlessly earlier has subsided, leaving the streets wet and gleaming under the pale streetlights. He tilts his head, watching as a few stray droplets fall from the rooftops above, the sky now quiet in contrast to the storm inside him. The cool night air fills his lungs, but it does little to ease the tension coiled in his chest.*I can’t go back yet,* he thinks to himself, tightening his fists. He knows Emma is waiting for him, but there’s no way he’s ready to face her—not yet. There’s too much swirling around him: the system, the Broker, and now the vague but unsettling revelations from Oz. His feet instinctively lead him away from home, away from everything familiar.His phone buzzes, snapping him out of his thoughts. He glances at the screen and sees Lyle’s name flashing.*Again?* It’s the second time today, just hours apart, and he’s not in the mood for another con
The rain had stopped, but the night still clung to a damp chill as Jamie walked down the deserted street. The puddles reflected the distant streetlights, their glow flickering like a heartbeat. He had just left Oz’s place, his mind weighed down by the cryptic advice and the unsettling realities of the system. His thoughts scattered, he pulls out his phone, intending to text Lyle, when it hits.The familiar sensation snaps into place, sharp and clear in his mind: *the system activates*.*New Mission: Retrieve Classified Intel.* *Location: Underground Facility, North Seattle.* *Time Limit: 1 Hour.* *Reward: 200 Essence.*Jamie freezes, his eyes narrowing. It’s the same facility Lyle mentioned during their last phone call. Too coincidental. The system never operates on coincidences, and Jamie knows better than to question it at this point. But the timing couldn’t be worse.Just then, his phone rings—Lyle. Jamie hesitates b
The soft hum of the system in the air is a constant reminder that nothing stays still for long. Jamie hasn’t been able to fully relax since the mission, even though he’s tried. Each time he closes his eyes, flashes of the underground world flood his mind—faces he can’t trust, names whispered in the dark, and the classified intel they fought so hard to obtain. The 200 Essence is a boost, but it comes at a price. Jamie can feel the system nudging him, urging him toward his next move, but he’s still processing everything. He rubs the back of his neck and looks out the window. The rain has finally stopped, leaving the streets slick and quiet. It’s eerie how calm it is after all the chaos they’ve been through. *Ding.* The system notification cuts through the silence like a blade. Jamie instinctively tenses. Another mission? He opens the interface and reads the message. **New Mission Available** _Obtain high-level intelligence from subject “Cipher”—a key player in the underworld o
The aftermath of the fight leaves Jamie on edge. His pulse slows, but his senses stay sharp, eyes flicking to every shadow that stretches beyond the dim alley. He bends down, checks the pockets of one of the unconscious attackers, but finds nothing useful—no ID, no sign of allegiance. The system warned of hostiles, but as usual, it keeps the details frustratingly vague. “Any chance these guys are connected to Cipher?” Jamie asks, his voice barely a murmur. Lyle emerges from his hiding spot, shaking off dust from his jacket. “Could be. Cipher’s got eyes everywhere. Or maybe they’re just goons trying to make a quick buck. Either way, we’re not sticking around to find out.” Jamie gives him a long look. “How about we start with some answers? What do you know about Cipher that you haven’t told me yet?” Lyle’s grin falters, but only for a second. “Look, Jamie, Cipher’s not your typical underworld boss. He’s... different. Rumor has it he’s got connections way deeper than anyone reali
Jamie’s pulse steadies as the system notification fades from his vision, but the weight of what they’ve just uncovered clings to him. Cipher's reach extends far beyond what he expected, and he can’t shake the feeling that this is only a small piece of the puzzle. He glances at Lyle, who’s catching his breath against the grimy alley wall, still clutching the portable drive with all the stolen data. "Next step?" Lyle asks, his voice a bit breathless, though the glint in his eyes says he's already thinking ahead. Jamie scans the narrow alley, his instincts urging caution. “We’re sitting on a ticking bomb. Cipher’s people will be combing this area soon. We need a safe spot to go through what we grabbed.” Lyle nods, adjusting his backpack. “I’ve got a place. It’s off-grid. No surveillance. It’s just... not close.” "Doesn’t matter," Jamie replies, already moving. "Lead the way." They stick to the back streets, keeping to the shadows. As they navigate through the underbelly of Seattle,
The air feels thick as Jamie and Lyle weave through the streets of downtown Seattle. The city is bustling, unaware of the impending storm brewing just beneath the surface. Seattle Central looms ahead, its towering structure cutting sharply against the darkening sky. As they approach the building, Jamie's heart pounds in sync with the system's ever-looming presence in his mind. Lyle adjusts his backpack, checking the makeshift comms device he rigged up. “So, what’s the plan when we get inside? We’re talking high-security here, and if Cipher’s people are already in place, we’re walking straight into a deathtrap.” “We’re not walking in,” Jamie replies, his voice low. “We need to hit them from the inside out. Disrupt their communications, take out key personnel, and cut off their backup. Holmes should be in position by now, and if everything goes smoothly, we’ll have a window to sabotage the whole thing before they even realize what hit them.” Lyle quirks an eyebrow. “Smoothly, huh?
The sound of boots pounding down the hallway outside grows louder, like a war drum signaling the inevitable. Jamie’s pulse races, his mind calculating the odds. Lyle is hunched over the terminal, fingers trembling as he continues to work, sweat beading on his forehead. Holmes has taken up a defensive position near the server room’s exit, gun drawn, eyes hard as stone. “They’re almost on us,” Holmes growls. “Make a choice, Anderson. Do we go out guns blazing, or do we pull the plug on this whole operation?” Jamie stares at the servers, feeling the weight of his decision closing in. He had been in situations like this before, where every second mattered and each choice carved a path of consequences. But this one felt different. **Darker.** The system in his mind pulses, as if urging him to act, to trust in its power. But that power came with a cost—a cost he wasn’t willing to fully understand yet. “Jamie,” Lyle’s voice break
Jamie stands outside the apartment door, the weight of the past few days heavy on his shoulders. He hasn’t been back since Emma dropped the bombshell: her betrayal, the shady people she met, and the fact that she’s pregnant with his child. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The system hums faintly in the back of his mind, but this isn’t a battle where it can offer help. This is something he has to face alone. He unlocks the door quietly, stepping inside. The apartment feels different—like an alien space he no longer belongs in. Emma is sitting on the couch, hands folded over her stomach. When she sees him, her eyes widen in relief, but Jamie can tell there’s tension behind it. “I didn’t think you were coming back,” Emma says, her voice tentative, almost pleading. Jamie doesn’t respond immediately. He closes the door behind him and leans against it, taking her in. The woman he married. The woman who, not long ago, sold him out. “I had to,” Jamie finally says, his