The city talked when blood spilled.
By morning, the feeds were lit with shaky drone footage of the dock war. Commentators in slick suits debated which gang was at fault. CorpSec spokespeople claimed their "swift response" prevented a greater tragedy. Rumors whispered that the gangs had access to military-grade weapons. Nobody spoke the truth.
In his cubicle, Kai Veyl sipped stale coffee from a cracked plastic cup, listening as coworkers rehashed the news.
"Chrome Fangs are animals," muttered one analyst, scrolling through feed highlights.
"No, it was the Vultures—they've been itching for a fight for months."
"CorpSec should just burn the whole undercity to the ground."
They laughed, argued, speculated. Nobody glanced at Kai. He sat silent, head down, pretending to skim his reports.
Inside, he smiled. Every word they spoke was proof. The story was already rewriting itself exactly as he planned. Chrome Fangs against Steel Vultures. CorpSec as the heavy-handed savior. Shadow Net? Just a ghost no one would name. Perfect.
Evening: The Coffin Room
When the shift ended, Kai slipped away as always, vanishing into the tide of workers. The streets were buzzing louder than usual, neon signs flickering with headlines:
> DOCK WAR: 38 DEAD, 62 INJURED
CORPSEC PROMISES "INVESTIGATION" INTO ESCALATING VIOLENCE
IS A THIRD GANG RISING? RUMORS SWIRL.
Kai ducked into an alley where a vendor sold steaming noodles under a tarp. He ordered a bowl, kept his head low, and listened. Around him, dockhands and street runners argued about who started it. Nobody looked twice at him. Invisible by day. Untouchable by night.
When he returned to his coffin room, Crow was waiting. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, her long coat dripping rainwater onto the floor. Her rifle case rested by her feet. Unlike everyone else in his life, she saw him—not the nobody in a cubicle, but the boss who pulled the strings.
"You did well," Kai said, slipping off his damp jacket.
Crow raised an eyebrow. "You sound surprised."
"Not at your aim. At how cleanly you disappeared."
A faint smirk tugged at her lips. "CorpSec doesn't train ghosts. They train soldiers. I left that behind."
Kai met her gaze, amused. She'd once been one of them—CorpSec's most precise trigger finger. Now she was his.
She stepped closer. "The gangs are screaming for blood. CorpSec's rattled. And Shadow Net's name is on more tongues than ever."
Kai's grin sharpened. "Exactly as planned."
But Crow didn't share the smile. "Boss… someone's looking for you."
Kai's grin faded. "Who?"
"A netrunner. Callsign Specter. He's been sniffing around the gang channels, tracing packet trails. He's good—too good. He doesn't think the Fangs or the Vultures started that fight. He thinks someone else pulled the strings."
Kai leaned back, thoughtful. A netrunner digging that deep was dangerous. Most were mercs chasing creds, but the sharp ones… the sharp ones could cut right through masks.
"Does he know it's me?" Kai asked.
"Not yet. But he's getting close."
For a moment, silence. Then Kai exhaled through his nose, almost laughing.
"Then let Eve handle him."
Crow tilted her head.
Kai continued, "Specter's a bloodhound, but Eve's a panther in the code. If he wants to hunt shadows, let him chase hers instead of mine."
From the corner of the rig, a soft voice chimed through the speakers—calm, melodic, but edged with amusement. Eve had been listening all along, her avatar flickering in the corner of the Shadow Net feed: a porcelain mask of a woman's face, shifting with static.
"You make it sound too easy, Kai," she said. "Ghosts like him don't vanish—they're dissected. Slowly."
Kai smirked beneath the rig. "Exactly. Make him believe he's found something… until the trap closes."
Crow's eyes glinted as she returned to polishing her rifle. Eve's mask shimmered with digital static, already spinning webs of false trails and poisoned data.
The Shadow Net wasn't just Kai anymore. It was a trinity—mind, trigger, and code.
And Specter had just walked into their labyrinth.
Specter's Perspective
Across the city, in a cluttered apartment filled with glowing servers, a young man leaned back from his rig, sweat dripping down his brow. His handle, Specter, pulsed on-screen. Lines of code scrolled past, tracing fragments of data from the dock war.
He wasn't a gang runner or a merc. He was a scavenger of secrets, selling intel to the highest bidder. But this—this was different.
Every trace he followed led nowhere, dead ends buried in false trails. Yet the deeper he dug, the clearer it became: there was no way the Fangs or the Vultures orchestrated the docks. Someone else had moved them like pieces on a board.
"Who are you?" he whispered, staring into the static ghost of Shadow Net's presence.
He tried every net hack, every backdoor exploit he knew. Each trace tangled with invisible barriers, coded traps, decoys. Shadows of data moved and reshaped themselves before he could pin them down.
And then he felt it—a subtle pulse in the network, something cold and intelligent. Someone watching him, redirecting him.
A thrill ran down his spine. This isn't just a hacker. This is a ghost.
Kai's Mind
Back in his room, Kai sat watching Specter's movements ripple across the digital map.
He allowed himself a rare, small smile. The netrunner was smart, arrogant—but predictable. And like all those who hunted shadows, Specter had no idea he was already inside his mind, guided by Eve's traps.
Crow noticed the smile. "You enjoy this too much."
"I enjoy everything about being invisible and untouchable," Kai said. "He'll chase shadows, bite phantoms, and never catch the real me. That's the art."
Eve's voice chimed softly. "Don't get too cocky, Kai. Shadows can slip. And even the sharpest netrunner can surprise you."
Kai leaned back, eyes glinting under the flickering blue glow. "Then let him surprise us. That's when the game is fun."
Outside, Erevos city throbbed, unaware that its invisible puppeteer had not only orchestrated a gang war but had also planted the first seeds of a new legend.