Jason met Griggs at a dimly lit bar in Brooklyn that reeked of spilled whiskey and old secrets.
The man looked like a cliché straight out of a Cold War thriller—grizzled, salt-and-pepper stubble, faded leather jacket, sharp gray eyes that scanned every exit before settling on Jason.
"You're young," Griggs said, sliding into the booth. "Too young to need someone like me."
Jason smiled, controlled. "And yet, here you are."
Griggs chuckled dryly. "Victor says you're building something. Says you've got the instincts of a con man and the bankroll of a ghost. What do you want?"
Jason slid over a burner phone and a sealed envelope.
Inside the envelope: three names, two bank accounts, and a blurry printout of the warning email.
"I want to know who sent this. Who's watching me. And how close they've gotten."
Griggs opened the file, scanned it briefly, then raised an eyebrow. "This is deep-state level subtle. Whoever did this, they didn't want you to trace them—just to feel them."
"I don't care how careful they were. I want a name."
Griggs leaned back. "That'll cost you."
Jason pulled out a manila envelope stuffed with $15,000 in crisp hundreds. "That's just the down payment. You'll get triple if you give me something solid."
Griggs tapped the burner phone. "I'll be in touch."
As Jason exited the bar, his phone buzzed.
Amy.
"I just got access to a kid working for Napster," she said breathlessly. "Jason… they've got a massive user database. Over 20 million people. All using P2P tech. If we copy their backend and repurpose it for secure content streaming—"
"—we can build StreamHub's prototype off it. I know." Jason grinned. "Start scraping. Quietly."
He paused.
"Oh, and Amy? Get me a new domain. Something slick. Something brandable. 'StreamHub' sounds like a porn site."
She laughed. "What about… PulseCast?"
Jason blinked.
Then smiled wide. "Buy it."
Over the next week, Amy created a functional UI mockup for PulseCast. Jason paid a design firm to brand it with a glossy neon aesthetic. The slogan evolved:
> "PulseCast – Entertainment That Moves With You."
It would become a streaming pioneer—before Netflix, before YouTube, and before anyone understood how the world was about to change.
All Jason had to do was survive long enough to launch.
Two days later, Griggs called.
"I found something."
Jason sat up.
"There's a network sniffing unusual financial moves tied to betting rings and offshore wallets. Blacklight Group. They're not government—but they're adjacent. Private intel firm out of Langley washouts. Funded by some ultra-conservative tech billionaires. You're a 'flagged anomaly.'"
Jason's blood chilled.
"Why me?"
"Because you're moving like a man who knows the future."