Rain slicked streets reflected fractured neon as I moved, careful to stay in the cracks of shadow. Every puddle, every dripping gutter seemed louder than it should have been. I wasn't paranoid just properly cautious.
Click… drip… shuffle…
A figure flitted across the corner of my eye. Small, quick, unnervingly precise. I started calling him 'Rook' in my head part pawn, part threat, all nervous energy. That wasn't his real name. Not yet.
"Evening," I muttered, keeping my voice low. "Out for a walk, or delivering death notices in style tonight?"
'Rook' didn't answer, just kept moving. Light feet, deliberate steps, like he knew exactly where I'd notice him but not too soon. He was an enigma too young to be fully trained, too sharp to be harmless.
I followed at a careful distance, tracing his path through alleys that reeked of rust, oil, and wet asphalt. My brain ticked off exits, potential traps, anything that could go wrong if he turned out to be more than a courier.
Click… scrape… drip…
He paused at a corner, glanced back, but not at me. At the shadows. He was playing a different game entirely. My pulse quickened. That pause he wasn't lost or scared. He was watching. Waiting. Calculating.
I whispered under my breath, half to him, half to the rain: "Charming. A real people person, aren't you?"
'Rook''s figure darted again, disappearing into a narrow passage under a flickering streetlight. I had a choice: chase and risk whatever game he was running, or let him lead me into trouble at my own pace. Naturally, curiosity won.
The passage twisted and narrowed, brick walls dripping with condensation. 'Rook' stopped abruptly, turned just enough that I caught the outline of his face beneath the hood. Young, sharp, confident in ways that made me uncomfortable.
"'Rook'," I muttered, more to cement the name in my head than to call him out. "You're trouble. And apparently, I'm allergic to staying safe tonight."
He moved on again, and I followed, careful not to let the rain or my own footsteps betray my position. Every step felt like a test his test, the Syndicate's test, my own patience.
Click… tap… hum…
The alley opened into a small, deserted courtyard. 'Rook' vanished behind a stack of crates, leaving me alone with the echo of my own muttering: "Fantastic. Baited again. But at least it's entertaining this time."
And somewhere beneath the surface, I knew this wasn't just a run-of-the-mill errand-boy. 'Rook' was going to matter. Eventually, badly.
Splash… drip… hum…