Part 2 : ALEX
Null:
"I'll contact you when it's time. Just make sure they never see it coming."
Shirito: (smirking, finishing his cigarette)
"I'll be waiting."
Null turned and walked out.
Past the silent guards.
Past the trembling bartender still hiding behind the bar.
Out the back door, into the cold Tokyo rain.
The city swallowed him whole.
Lights. Thunder. Silence.
The neon buzz had faded behind him.
Now, the streets were empty.
Dark.
No street lights. Just the soft hum of vending machines long forgotten. Rain poured like guilt from the sky, soaking the rusted rooftops and cracked concrete. The alleys were narrow — the kind no one returned from if they made the wrong turn.
Null walked slowly. Deliberately.
His footsteps were swallowed by the rain.
But not alone.
A shadow mirrored his pace.
Null turned left into a tighter alley, his silhouette swallowed by the darkness.
The man behind him followed, quickening his pace.
But when he reached the corner—
Null was gone.
The only sound: rain tapping on trash cans… and his own uneasy breath.
Then—
A blur from above.
A shadow crashing down from the top of a streetlamp.
Crack!
The man hit the ground hard — his back pinned by a boot, wrist twisted behind him, cheek pressed into the soaked pavement.
Null leaned down, eyes hidden beneath the dripping edge of his hood.
Null (coldly):
"Who sent you?"
The man grunted, struggling under the weight.
His other hand inched toward something—maybe a knife.
Snap. Null twisted the arm harder.
The man howled.
Null:
"Try that again, and I take the hand."
The man coughed, water mixing with blood.
The man grunted under Null's boot, coughing rain and dirt.
Man (strained):
"No one ordered me. I… I wanted to meet you."
Null's grip didn't loosen.
Null (flat, cold):
"Who are you?"
The man winced.
Man:
"My name is Alex. Alex Miller. I worked for the CIA… or used to—until they excommunicated me. Now I'm being hunted. Labeled a terrorist."
Null's eyes didn't blink. Only his breathing shifted, slightly.
Null:
"Why were you following me?"
Alex (panting):
"Because I've been tracking them. The ones they call The Circle. The world thinks you're dead—but I found whispers. A pattern. Now you're back. And I know why. You're hunting them."
A pause.
Alex:
"I want to help you."
Null's silence was a wall of steel.
Null:
"Why?"
Alex (lowering his voice):
"Because I tried to expose them. I gave my director classified intel—proof the Circle controls weapons, wars, assassins… they're rewriting the world order. Next day, I was burned. Branded a traitor. I've been running ever since."
The rain kept falling. Null stared at him — not moving, but the pressure on his boot eased.
Alex (desperate, sincere):
"I don't know who you really are. Just that you were one of them… high-level. Until they tried to kill you.
I can't keep running like this. If I want my life back—they need to go down."
A long silence passed.
Null straightened slowly, stepped back, eyes still locked.
Alex coughed, clutching his ribs.
Null (quietly):
"...Follow me."
Alex blinked in surprise, then nodded, pulling himself up as Null turned and walked into the rain-drenched dark.
The rain hadn't let up.
Null led Alex through a rusted side gate into an abandoned warehouse—its walls tagged with old gang graffiti, its windows shattered, letting the storm weep inside. Every step echoed.
They passed a metal door tucked behind fallen crates. Null reached into his coat, pressed a hidden switch behind a pipe. With a metallic clunk, the floor groaned open—revealing a staircase spiraling downward into darkness.
Alex (hesitating):
"You live here?"
Null didn't answer. He just descended.
Alex followed.
---
Interior — Underground Base
The air changed. Cooler. Heavy.
They stepped into a world buried beneath the city — part bunker, part war museum.
Concrete walls surrounded them, thick and silent. A steel ventilation pipe ran along the ceiling. The lighting was dim, industrial — hanging bulbs casting long shadows like ghosts clinging to corners.
Alex's breath caught.
Weapons lined the walls in organized chaos.
Rifles. Shotguns. Handguns.
Ancient swords, daggers, curved blades whose names were long forgotten.
Grenades stacked like poker chips.
Smoke bombs. Throwing knives.
Something that looked like a modified flamethrower.
Alex (in awe):
"Jesus… you've got an entire armory down here."
To the side, a simple bed. A folded blanket. A kettle.
But above the bed — a wall of obsession.
Tacked-up maps, faces connected by red thread, photographs, surveillance shots, and drawings—like battle plans etched in paranoia. Some faces had been crossed out in blood-red ink. Others had questions beside them. Circles. Notes in different languages.
A small table held files, burned phones, old USBs, and ID cards from every part of the world.
Alex stepped closer, eyes scanning it.
Alex (quietly):
"This is a war room."
Null said nothing. He walked to a shelf, removed his coat, and hung it up beside a katana mounted on the wall.
Alex:
"You've been preparing this for a long time, haven't you?"
Null turned, expression unreadable.
Null:
"I've been waiting."
Alex walks deeper into the underground lair, his eyes scanning the weapons, the maps, the threads connecting names and locations — an entire war laid bare in red ink and quiet obsession.
Alex (quietly):
"This is insane… You've been building this for how long?"
Null (without turning):
"Since the moment they left me to die."
Alex:
"You trusted me too easily back there. Why?"
Null (still focused on a file):
"I didn't. But I know you. We've been tracking your moves for a while — back when I was still... someone else.
After I disappeared, I assumed they'd come for you eventually. People like you — ones who dig too deep — don't live long in their world."
Alex:
"They excommunicated me three years ago. Since then, I've been following the Circle, collecting scraps, watching them move…
And recently, there's been a disturbance here — something big. You."
Null turns and locks eyes with him.
Null:
"You've been following my trail?"
Alex (grinning slightly):
"Not many could. But I was the best tracker in the CIA. Nobody finds ghosts better than me."
Null (walking past him, dry):
"Ironic. Because I don't leave trails unless I want to."
Alex:
"Then maybe you wanted me to find you."
Null doesn't answer. He walks toward the board, taps one of the older files.
Alex (reading the pinned names):
"These… these are old files. The Circle's network changed. Half of these people are dead or in hiding.
You're still working off a dead map."
Null (pauses, turns slowly):
"Then update it."
Alex (surprised):
"Wait—are you saying…?"
Null:
"I'm not a team player. I work alone. But if you're as good as you claim, you'll find your place —
just don't slow me down, or I'll erase you like the rest."
Alex (smirking):
"Noted. But if you wanted me gone, you'd have done it the moment I stepped into that alley. So… whether you admit it or not, you need someone. Someone to watch your blind spots."
Null turns back to the wall. Rain pounds against the vents above.
Null (quietly):
"Then let's get to work."