The wind rustled my hoodie as I turned a corner. A drunk couple laughed behind me, and a woman chased her dog near the curb. Just another day in the city.
But I knew better.
When I reached my apartment building, I lingered near the alley for 17 seconds, scanning my surroundings. There was no movement, no strange reflections, and no parked cars with tinted windows.
Finally, I stepped inside.
Lobby was quiet. Concierge gone for break. Perfect.
I didn't take the stairs; I wanted less noise. I pressed the elevator button and waited in silence, scanning the polished marble walls and the overhead lens of the elevator camera.
Offline. Just as I had programmed it.
Ding.
As I rode up, I turned slightly toward the corner of the lift, angling myself so no camera could capture a clear view of my face, even if someone restored the feed.
When I reached my floor, I held my breath and listened before stepping out.
Silence.
I entered the corridor with my head down and listened carefully. It was quiet no creaking floors or footsteps. I walked to the last door on the left. I took off my glove, pressed my thumb on the fingerprint panel, and then typed in the six-digit code: 9-2-0-4-1-6. I heard a soft click.
I opened the door and quickly closed it behind me.This is home.
Home Sweet Home.
I tossed my bag onto the bed, took off my hoodie, and went to the kitchen for a tall glass of cold water. It felt refreshing going down.
Then, I went to the floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the East River and stood there. For a moment, the city looked calm.
I returned to the bedroom, sat cross-legged on the bed, and took out my laptop again.
First step: Clean my trace.
I opened a special access window to delete camera feeds from the cafe, the crosswalk, three traffic poles, and the parking lot. After each deletion, I created a fake backup. First, I looked at the cafe CCTV footage from when I entered.
I noted my pace, my shadow, and my timing.
I confirmed that no one looked at me directly and no one followed me when I left.
Ten minutes later, I erased the entire timeline.
Now I was never there.
With that weight off my shoulders, I exhaled and cracked my knuckles.
Now to the real work.
Investigation: Alpha Dark
I reopened the sandbox. The man's face appeared on the screen clean-shaven, calm, a devoted father and husband. I accessed street cameras, private servers, phone towers, and mirrored signals.
The first day's results were normal.
Too normal.
Breakfast was at 7:12 AM. He had oats, a boiled egg, and avocado.
At 8:00 AM, he dropped his daughter off at school.
His workday included routine meetings, emails, and paperwork. Surveillance showed him in the office until noon.
At 12:07 PM, he left to pick up his daughter. They returned home for lunch with his wife. They shared laughs, and she kissed him on the cheek.
After lunch, he went back to work and stayed until evening.
The CCTV footage from the company showed the same actions repeating: the same sip of coffee, the same phone call, and the same lean in the chair. It played over and over again.
Something felt wrong.
I slowed down the footage to examine it frame by frame. I noticed small mismatches in the time-codes tiny fractions of seconds missing in some parts and glitches in the shadows in others.
"Looping…" I whispered. "You sneaky bastard."
I ran code to extract and compare every frame from all the cameras at his company and on the nearby street.
Then I found it.
Camera 11 – Rear Exit: Not looped, not doctored.
The timestamp is real.
At 4:12 PM, he left through the back door, changed into a black jacket, and got into a black SUV. The license plate was changed to a fake registry,
but that wasn't important for me.
I tracked the SUV using five traffic cameras.
Where was it going?
Éclipse Noir, an exclusive underground club in Manhattan.
He entered through the VIP gate.
Inside the Club – Surveillance Taps
I hacked into the private internal security server. It wasn't easy military-grade encryption wrapped in AI camouflage.
But I managed to crack it.
At 4:57 PM, a man entered the red-velvet hallway and walked into Room X.
At 5:03 PM, two black sedans pulled up.
A woman stepped out sleek and dangerous. She was tall and exuded power in her heels, with red lips that accentuated her striking features. Four armed men surrounded her.
She entered the club through the VIP door.
I zoomed in on her face.
Facial recognition identified her as Selina Vargas, flagged in several deep-web chatter logs. She is a suspected head of a trafficking syndicate untouchable, beautiful, and deadly.
Inside Room X, I could see them.
Alpha Dark and Selina Vargas.
They were leaning in close, whiskey in hand, sharing smirks.
Their words were quiet, but I could hear some of the conversation through the audio stream. I improved the sound quality.
Selina said, "Three more shipments have arrived. Each has ten girls. One is from Prague... very young."
Alpha Dark responded, "Send the Prague girl to the Russian. She pays a lot for innocence."
Selina laughed, "You're ruthless when you want to be."
Alpha Dark said, "Only with you."
Then the worst happened.
Six girls were brought into the club from the back entrance. They were blindfolded, with their hands and mouths taped. They wore identical silver dresses and no shoes.
They had no choice.
They were taken into the same room, showing no resistance, only fear.
A few moments later, Alpha Dark leaned in and whispered to Selina.
Then he pulled her close and kissed her deeply, like they had done many times before.
He wasn't just cheating; he was involved in the trade.
Selling young girls, indulging in secret affairs with the broker, and skillfully hiding it all behind a veneer of idyllic family life.
Money changed hands in stacks. I followed the serial numbers in the black market.
They laughed. Guards dragged the girls away.
I sat still.
My fists clenched.
I opened my soft-board database and wrote two names in bold red font:
ALPHA DARK
SELINA VARGAS
Below them:
Smuggling
Trafficking
Club Éclipse Noir
Financial Black Channels
Relationship Confirmed
Fake Loop Surveillance
Ghost Clean-Up Crew
I stared at the screen, my heart pounding with a mix of rage and an unsettling satisfaction. There he was his face illuminated in the harsh light of my monitor, a smug smile plastered on his features, completely unaware of my existence. I had him in my sights, and the thrill of knowing I held the upper hand surged through me. The more I scrutinized him, the more he seemed to lose his humanity, transforming from a living, breathing person into just an object of my obsession. Each detail became sharp and clear: the way his hair fell casually over his forehead, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he laughed, and the confident posture that spoke volumes about his arrogance. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was peering into a distorted reflection of my own emotions, a dark mirror reflecting my desire for control.
I had spent the last 36 hours methodically digging into the intricate digital walls of Alpha Dark. My efforts focused on breaking into files that were cleverly disguised as shipping logs, oil trade reports, and logistics maps. At first glance, they seemed like legitimate documents, but I quickly realized they were all meticulously fabricated. The true data, however, was concealed behind six layers of robust encryption, cleverly hidden under the guise of a seemingly innocuous company called Lucent Trade Corp.
As I delved deeper into my investigation, I uncovered a web of financial deceit, revealing that Lucent Trade Corp was laundering millions of dollars through a complex system of shell companies and fraudulent transactions.
In my relentless pursuit, I didn't just crack the sophisticated encryption; I gutted the entire operation, exposing the dark underbelly of their illegal activities.
Surveillance Feed – Internal Communications
I found internal chats on a private server in Luxembourg. I deciphered them easily.
AlphaDark_01: "A shipment will arrive at Dock 3 at midnight. We need to move it by morning because the school is reopening."
TetraRoot: "Is it the same formula?
AlphaDark_01: "No, it's stronger. High school students like it fast."
TetraRoot: "Another overdose could attract media attention."
AlphaDark_01: "Let them die quietly. We feed them, and they feed us."
I froze.
Overdose...
My fingers flew across the keyboard. I searched recent local news stories buried under bigger headlines forgotten by most.
And I found it.
News Article (Pulled from Archive)
"Seventeen-Year-Old Found Dead in Bathroom at West Shore High"
– Authorities suspect drug overdose. Drug still unidentified. Family says he was clean.
But I knew better now.
That boy Eli Romanov was one of the quiet kids. Smart. On the robotics team. Not the type anyone suspected of being addicted.
He wasn't addicted. He was hooked.
I tracked his texts from leaked phone logs.
"Bro this one makes you feel like flying
One line is all I need before physics class lol
Took five last night, I feel insane, might try six today."
Then silence.
And then death.
Jack, a twenty-one-year-old dropout, was the dealer. He got arrested for possession a week later but was let go within 12 hours.
No charges and no follow-up.
I checked Jack's last location using geolocation logs from public Wi-Fi access points.