The alley smelled like wet asphalt and fried circuits somewhere between city decay and burned electronics. I hugged my coat tighter, boots squelching in shallow puddles. The ledger was gone, Rook was missing, and every shadow felt like a spectator judging my incompetence.
Buzz… drip… hiss…
A soft shuffle behind me made me pivot. The Detective stood there, trench coat damp, collar up like armor, eyes scanning like they owned the night. No greeting. No theatrics. Just presence. And that calm that made my sarcasm feel inadequate.
He extended a hand, holding a folded note. Paper, thin, ordinary. Yet I knew better. "Oh, joy," I muttered. "Hand-delivered wisdom in the middle of a manhunt. I always wanted a pen pal who can kill me."
Hum… tap…
He didn't smile. Didn't blink. He only said: "Read it. Learn. Move."
I snatched it, curiosity warring with suspicion. Unfolded, the page held symbols, numbers, and a string of letters that could have been a code or an insult. Probably both. I squinted, muttering, "Brilliant. I get cryptic homework without even asking. The city really knows how to treat its students."
Drip… clatter… hum…
I crouched behind a dumpster, eyes flicking up and down the alley. Footsteps too soft for a chase, too deliberate for casual wanderers, echoed off brick. The note felt like a lifeline wrapped in barbed wire. Every symbol might save me or lure me into a trap.
I traced the lines with a finger, squinting. A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. "Clever. Whoever wrote this thinks I'm either brilliant or completely hopeless. Could go either way, honestly." My fingers hesitated, realizing the code wasn't just numbers it was a map, a sequence, a key to the Syndicate's veins.
Clatter… drip…
The Detective's gaze didn't waver. Just the faint tilt of his head. "Time is measured in choices," he said quietly. Then, without another word, he melted into shadow, leaving the alley drenched in neon, rain, and questions.
I stood, scanning every shadow, every puddle reflection, every glint of metal. The note was my thread into their labyrinth, but following it meant stepping deeper into the city's pulse, where every step was watched, cataloged, and probably commented on in some sadistic ledger somewhere.
Splash… buzz… drip…
I muttered, voice low, sarcasm biting: "Fantastic. My life's a scavenger hunt, and the prize is probably regret, minor electrocution, or both. Thanks, mystery friend. Really motivating."
Footsteps faded. Neon buzzed. Alley smelled of wet asphalt and possibility. I tucked the note into my coat, heart still hammering. No friends. No allies. Only patterns, shadows, and this ridiculous sense that I might survive if I read between the lines carefully enough.
Click… drip… hum…
I smirked, bitter and alive. "Alright, city. Your cryptic guidance is noted. Let's see how far down this rabbit hole goes. Spoiler: I'm not planning to enjoy the ride."