Date: January 1st, 2021
Time: 1:17 AM
Location: East 6th Street, Austin, Texas
The bitter wind of early January howled through the alleys of downtown Austin like a ghost refusing to die. Streetlights flickered over the cracked sidewalks of East 6th Street, where shattered glass from last night's New Year celebrations still lay forgotten—drunk laughter had turned into empty silence. At 1:17 AM, the city slept uneasily.
Blaze walked alone under those lights.
He moved like a shadow carved into the night—sixteen years old, dressed in a tailored black gentleman's coat with silver cufflinks that shimmered faintly under the flickering streetlamps. His black hair was slicked back with precision, revealing sharp, ice-pale skin and cold, calculating blue eyes that didn't blink more than necessary. His gloved fingers were clasped behind his back, boots clicking with measured rhythm.
Behind that calm exterior lay a mind that never stopped thinking, analyzing, dissecting.
And tonight, it was burning with curiosity.
The invitation. The man. The game.
The entire encounter earlier that night hadn't just intrigued him—it had insulted his intelligence. Someone had dared to manipulate the world's most dangerous manipulator.
That mistake wouldn't go unpunished.
1:24 AM – Blaze's Apartment, East 6th Street, Floor 5, Unit 509
Blaze entered his apartment through a triple-locked steel door with a biometric scanner, pressing two fingers to the glass panel. A green light flashed, and the locks clicked in sequence.
The interior was spartan and precise. No unnecessary objects. A single desk lined with data drives, two servers humming under it, a leather reading chair near the tall window, and a small library filled with books on psychology, encryption, human anatomy, law, and warfare. The air smelled faintly of ink, dust, and sterile calculation.
He dropped his coat onto a hanger and moved to his desk. On the surface was a USB—black, matte, and anonymous. Left behind "accidentally" by the invitation man. Blaze knew better.
He inserted it into his custom terminal, which immediately initiated a deep scan.
[ENCRYPTED CONTENT DETECTED]
[Traceable IP Signature – Scrambled Origin: Colorado Springs → Chicago → Kyoto]
[Running BlazeCipher v9.1...]
A smile curled on his lips.
"How sloppy," he whispered.
1:32 AM – While the USB Decrypts
Blaze walked toward the window. From his fifth-story vantage point, he had a perfect view of the alley across the street. An old man, Mr. Karlson—a retired locksmith—stood arguing with a tall man in a fake fur coat. Blaze's eyes narrowed.
The man's belt was misaligned, shoes worn but polished only on the toes. His posture was stiff, but not with age—fear.
"Debt collector," Blaze muttered. "Amateur posing as a friend."
He watched Karlson lean back, clutching a small envelope.
"Probably cash," Blaze whispered. "Hush money. Which means... Karlson's daughter has been hiding again. Addict, maybe? Or a gambler?"
He stepped back from the window, fingers steepled.
Blaze never needed to speak to people to know their truth. He just had to observe what they tried to hide.
And then weaponize it.
1:43 AM – USB Decryption Complete
On his screen now: a low-resolution video. Static buzzed as a figure sat in a dark room, half his face shadowed.
"If you're watching this... congratulations. You're not just a participant. You're the variable."
"Variable?" Blaze leaned forward.
"Each candidate was selected for different reasons—some debts, some violence, some genius. You were not selected. You were watched. Observed."
A slow, cold breath left Blaze's lips.
So they knew him.
He reached under his desk and tapped open a hidden compartment. Inside: an encrypted burner phone with no GPS, no identifiers.
He dialed the number hidden in the video's metadata.
The phone rang once.
Twice.
Click.
"...Who is this?" came a tired voice. It was the man from before.
Blaze didn't speak for five seconds. Long enough to make the man feel fear.
"Are you enjoying your role as bait?" Blaze said, tone soft—almost kind.
"Wh–what?"
"You left the USB on purpose. But not for me. You're being watched too, aren't you?"
The man stammered.
"They... they made me—said if I didn't find you, they'd take her—my sister—"
Blaze's expression didn't change. But his voice dropped into something cold and sharp.
"Tell me what you know, or I'll make you believe your sister was never real to begin with. You have ten seconds."
"Okay! Okay! You weren't meant to be a player. They're calling you the wild card. That's all I know! They think you're dangerous, too smart. The rest of us... we're just tests. You're the real experiment."
Blaze ended the call.
That was all he needed.
2:10 AM – The Puzzle Emerges
He fast-forwarded the video. At the end, a string of symbols flashed for half a second—deliberate. Blaze screen-capped and ran them through a cipher he'd built based on ancient number-letter grids.
It translated to:
[NAMES: PLAYER 3 – KAI M., PLAYER 5 – RIN A., PLAYER 6 – UNKNOWN, PLAYER 7 – BLAZE]
He froze.
Player Seven. Himself.
The rest were real people. But with hidden pasts, criminal records, sealed psychological reports.
Blaze exhaled slowly.
"So... they want to see what happens when monsters play together."
He closed the laptop.