Lagos, 2079 – Hidden Corridor beneath the Third Mainland Docks – 3:01 A.M.
Tunde's breath came in short, sharp bursts as he ducked into the concrete corridor beneath the docks, the crate of Neon Dust slung over his shoulder. The air was damp, metallic, and stank of decay. Dripping water echoed around them like the whisper of the dead.
Behind him, Alero moved with unsettling silence, crate balanced effortlessly. No wasted motion. No panic. Just precision. She didn't speak until the gunfire above had fully faded.
"You move like you've had combat training," she said casually.
Tunde didn't respond immediately. He reached the end of the tunnel, where a rusted access panel blinked red. He tapped into his implant, sending a silent code through the embedded comms override NDLEC had installed behind his ear. The door shuddered, groaned, then hissed open.
"I watch a lot of war sims," he lied.
Alero laughed — a soft, cynical sound. "War sims don't teach you how to duck bullets."
They emerged into an abandoned freight station. Yellow hazard signs blinked lazily on cracked walls, and the skeleton of an old mag-rail train lay like a dead god across the tracks. The perfect place to disappear.
Tunde set the crate down, then scanned the area for surveillance nodes. None active — the location had been dark for years. He opened the crate and checked the vials. All intact.
Alero sat on a half-crushed bench, crossing her legs. "So, tell me, Ghost Boy… what are you really doing here?"
Tunde paused. His cover had to hold.
"I fix problems. Chrome needed a problem fixed."
"Mm," she murmured, picking up a Dust vial and rolling it between her fingers. "You don't twitch like a dealer. And you didn't even flinch when that runner died."
He said nothing.
She leaned forward. "Tell me your truth, and I'll tell you one of mine."
Tunde met her gaze. Her amber eyes didn't just glow — they burned. Curious. Dangerous.
"I'm looking for something bigger than a paycheck," he said slowly. "Something hidden. And I think you know where to find it."
Alero stood and walked over to him. "You're not wrong. But if you're going to dance with ghosts in Lagos, you'll need more than just curiosity. You'll need people who can watch your back."
"And what do you need?"
She smiled, and this time there was no cruelty — only something that looked almost like… weariness.
"Someone who doesn't lie to my face."
Before he could respond, his implant buzzed — an urgent encrypted ping from NDLEC.
"Vic compromised. Chrome under suspicion. Exit route to safehouse 7C flagged. Status?"
Tunde's jaw clenched.
Alero noticed. "You just got some bad news?"
"Let's just say I'm running out of people I can trust."
"Good," she said, picking up her crate. "That makes two of us."
They moved again, slipping into the tunnels under the old train yard. The city was always above them — watching, breathing, plotting.
Tunde knew now that the game had changed.
Noir wasn't the end. It was barely the beginning.
There were bigger players in this war — shadows behind shadows. And soon, he would have to face them all.
But not yet.
Tonight, he'd survived. He'd earned a sliver of trust. And he had Alero walking beside him, not hunting him.
For now, that was enough.