Kael settled into his chair, the faint hum of his computer filling the quiet room. A new notification pulsed at the corner of the screen, waiting for his attention.
He opened the encrypted inbox, eyes narrowing slightly as the message appeared.
From: Amelia GrantPosition: Senior Security Architect, Atlas Corporation
Dear CipherWorks,
I have reviewed your submitted report and personally verified the first three vulnerabilities. They are indeed valid and pose significant risks to our internal systems.
We are prepared to initiate a confidential discussion regarding the remaining vulnerabilities and to outline a compensation framework.
Please propose a secure communication channel and a convenient time to proceed.
Sincerely,
Amelia Grant, Senior Security, Architect, Atlas Corporation
Kael leaned back, tapping his fingers lightly against the desk.
It was the kind of message he had been expecting. Professional, cautious, and slightly unnerved. Perfect.
He opened a blank encrypted draft and began typing his response.
Dear Ms Grant,
I appreciate your prompt reply. The vulnerabilities yet undisclosed are of critical severity. Their impact extends beyond internal data exposure, potentially affecting millions of users globally.
To ensure mutual security, further communication will require a controlled channel under the following conditions:
The meeting must occur within a neutral, zero-trust environment.
All exchanges remain under strict non-disclosure and non-retaliation clauses.
Compensation discussions must accurately reflect the scope and gravity of these findings.
I will provide a secure communication link through my proprietary system at 10 AM Eastern Time.
Kind regards,CipherWorks
He reread the message once, then pressed send.
Next came the real work.
Kael navigated to a folder buried deep within his archives, a remnant of an abandoned project he had built years ago. It was meant to be a private communication suite—encrypted voice and video, impossible to trace, impossible to log. Back then, he thought of it as an experiment. Now, it was exactly what he needed.
He opened the codebase in his editor. It was messy, half-finished, and full of placeholders. But with his current skill, cleaning it up was almost relaxing.
Lines of code flickered across the screen as he rewrote core modules, patched old flaws, and optimized the encryption layers. Within an hour, the old system was reborn.
A new window appeared on his monitor.
Program: SilentLink
"Not bad," Kael muttered, smirking faintly as the interface loaded. It was functional—nothing fancy, but utterly secure. That was all that mattered.
He initiated a test run. The software instantly built an isolated channel, generating a single-use key with self-erasing logs. Perfect.
Copying the meeting link, Kael composed another short email and sent it to Amelia.
He glanced at the corner of the screen. 8 AM. Two hours until the meeting.
He closed the laptop, grabbed his jacket, and headed out.
By the time Kael was sipping coffee in a small café near his apartment, the entire Atlas cybersecurity division was in chaos.
Amelia stood in a glass-walled room filled with tense faces and humming machines. Engineers were running deep scans across every internal network, confirming vulnerability after vulnerability from the mysterious report.
Each confirmation drained more color from the room.
Amelia crossed her arms, her eyes hard as she read the results on her monitor.
"These breaches could have been catastrophic," she said quietly.
Her colleague, Marcus, exhaled sharply beside her. "How did we miss this? We did a full audit three months ago."
Amelia didn't answer. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on the sender who had discovered what her entire division could not.
CipherWorks.
Whoever they were, they had skill far beyond the ordinary.
Her phone chimed. A new encrypted message appeared on her secondary inbox.
Amelia frowned as she read it aloud. "He built his own communication platform."
Marcus blinked. "Wait. His own? As in, not one of ours?"
"That's right," she said, lowering her phone. "He calls it SilentLink."
"Can we trust it?"
"Probably not," Amelia admitted. "But it is our only way forward."
She turned to the technicians nearby. "I want a clean setup. New machine, no traceable network connections, no cached data, no stored credentials. Total isolation."
They nodded and hurried off.
Marcus leaned closer. "When's the meeting?"
"In two hours," she said.
At 9:55 AM, Kael sat once again in his apartment, freshly showered and dressed casually in a white shirt and jeans.
The interface for SilentLink glowed faintly on his screen. He didn't plan to show his face today. The less they knew about who he was, the better.
The countdown timer on the software reached zero. A chime sounded, and the feed came alive.
A woman appeared on screen, seated in a plain room devoid of any visible technology. She looked calm but alert, her expression composed.
"Ms Grant," Kael greeted smoothly, his voice filtered through a modulation layer. "Thank you for joining on time."
Her gaze sharpened. "I appreciate your cooperation. Shall we begin?"
He smiled faintly, the flicker of strategy already forming in his mind.
"Of course," he said. "Let's discuss how we can help each other."