09:46 PM - NPU Headquarters, North Metro, Helipad
The rotors screamed against the night. Garrick leaned half out of the cockpit, headset dangling, grin sharp.
"Try not to make me save your ass next time."
Adrian dropped onto the pad, adjusting his jacket. "Try flying smoother."
"Bold of you to assume I wasn't already doing that."
Adrian smirked. "Consider it repayment, then. Ciao."
"Ciao, you menace."
Concrete swallowed him. Then the stairs, buzzing fluorescents, and the faint smell of jet fuel trailed him all the way down. Adrian always chose the stairs.
10:00 PM - NPU Headquarters, Captain Elias's Office
A folder. A drive. A stack of photos. All slid across the desk like evidence in a trial.
Elias didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
"Reckless as fuck." His gaze cut hard, then sharpened.
"Pull another stunt like that, and I'll bury you in reports so deep you'll never see daylight again. Close calls like that get men killed."
Adrian crossed his arms.
"What are you, my mom? Just take the recording. You want this mission moving, I'll need inside intel by tomorrow. Founders, co-founders, blueprints-something real."
Elias hesitated, then: "We're close. Don't push further. Besides it's past 10:30. Usual time you go home."
Adrian smirked, sharp and tired. "Yeah, yeah. Nice to know my boss wants me gone. Ciao."
"Ciao... take care." He added it like an afterthought, almost against his will.
10:37 PM - North Metro, Highway 27, En Route to Safehouse
The Lamborghini Vision GT cut through the empty lanes like a shard of neon. Headlights bleeding against wet asphalt. Adrian drove one-handed, cigarette flicking embers into the slipstream.
The city blurred, but his head didn't. Not enough nicotine in the world for that.
10:54 PM - North Metro, Adrian's Safehouse
The gate scanned his fingerprint before the reinforced door buzzed open.
Inside: chaos.
Ash hung in the air like a second curtain. The couch reeked of old sweat and burnt tobacco. Paper stacks slid against each other like teeth. Locks clicked shut one by one-rituals against ghosts he couldn't banish.
Finally, lungs emptied. He collapsed onto the couch, lighter sparking another cigarette, glow flickering against restless green eyes.
The phone rang. Elias.
"File's in your inbox. Informant willing to talk. Read it. Ciao."
Adrian: "Ciao."
He thumbed the screen. File unfolded.
WITNESS-FILE // ACC3SS GRANTED
⚠ WARNING: CONTENT ADVISORY
This file contains whistleblowing, corporate corruption, high-risk exposure, and impending mortality. Pr0ceed if you d4re.
FILE: SUBJECT OF INTEREST
[SC] - MARCUS VARIAS.
Age: 36.
Profile: Born in Canada. Position: low-level data analyst at Nexo Pharm4. Gained irregular access to high-clearance logs + archives (system flaw still unexplained). Personality: quiet backbone, burdened by guilt. Reluctantly brave. Knows his life expectancy is short. Suffers from restlessness + insomn1a.
Appearance: Brown hair. Green eyes. Tanned skin. Slight build. Nervous gait.
Languages: English (native). Italian (partial). Russian (semi-fluent, fractured).
STATUS: Active employee @ Nexo. Potential informant. Risk: EXTREME.
NOTES:
Marcus claims "I can't stomach what they're doing anymore." Driven less by survival, more by need to confess. He has hinted at: hidden projects, experimental programs, executive-level corruption. Does not yet reveal hard data - only that "it runs deeper than anyone imagines."
SURVIVAL ODDS: >7%.
Trust level: unstable, but genuine.
TRANSMISSION END.
Adrian leaned back, smoke curling above him. The words pressed into him heavier than ash. He hated the weight. Hated that it still got to him.
He shut the phone. Stubbed the cigarette out. Changed into loose cotton. Darkness took the safehouse.
07:09 AM - Adrian's Safehouse, North Metro
Hot water blurred his vision in the shower, steam wrapping him in a cocoon he didn't trust. He stood there too long, forehead against tile, waiting for something like clarity.
Clarity never came. Just steam, and the echo of every mistake he refused to name.
He emerged dripping, towel slung low at his hips. Checked the clock. Already too late. Dressed fast: dark shirt, shoulder holster, jacket. Coffee in a chipped mug burned bitter against his tongue.
The file's aftertaste lingered like metal. Like blood.
07:42 AM - North Metro, Arterial Road, En Route to NPU
The Lamborghini slid into traffic. Adrian's jaw set as he scanned the mirrors, eyes flicking from glass to glass.
A black sedan fell into pace behind him. Tinted. Patient. Watching.
For too long.
And then it was gone.
The light turned green. Adrian didn't move. The lane stayed empty, but his pulse didn't.
The city was watching.