06:15 | South Metro, The Drop Zone
The helicopter touched down in an abandoned lot that smelled like sulfur and a fish that died three weeks ago.
"Welcome to paradise," Garrick shouted over the dying whine of the rotors. He gestured grandly at the skyline of crumbling brick and rusted smokestacks. "Five stars on Yelp. Don't say I never take you anywhere nice."
Adrian unclipped his harness. "I've seen prettier crime scenes."
"Guess you'll fit right in." Garrick grinned, but his eyes were scanning the perimeter. The humor didn't quite reach his gaze. "I'll keep the engine warm. If you scream loud enough, I might even hear you."
"That's what all the pilots say."
"I'm serious. You get in trouble, I'm not coming down there."
"Yes you are."
"Yeah, I am. But I'll complain the whole time."
Adrian jumped out. His boots hit the cracked pavement, and the atmosphere hit him like a fist.
It wasn't just poverty. It was decay with a PhD. The air tasted metallic, like licking a battery. The gutters ran with water that had a sickly rainbow sheen, the kind of colors that meant "don't touch" and "maybe cancer."
Welcome home.
He pulled his collar up, checked his earpiece, and walked into the maze.
07:30 | The Perimeter
Adrian blended into the flow of the market district. The crowd pressed in too close: kids with hollow eyes, vendors selling meat that looked gray at the edges, workers coughing up lungs full of smog.
Just another day in paradise.
His recorder hummed silently at his side, capturing fragments:
"...brother went in on Tuesday, haven't seen him..."
"...pay is good, they said. Just need a blood sample..."
"...screaming. I swear, the vents were screaming..."
Adrian's jaw tightened.
Of course they were.
He found a vantage point — a rusted scaffold overlooking the Nexo Pharmaceutical delivery gate. Climbed it like a depressed spider.
And there it was.
From up here you could see the whole front face of it. That was the worst part, probably. That it was beautiful.
Nexo Pharmaceutical's main campus gleamed white against the gray South Metro skyline like something that had no business being here. Curved architecture. Sweeping glass panels that caught the weak morning light and threw it back clean. Manicured approach paths. And above the grand entrance, glowing in crisp blue-white against all that pristine white stone:
NEXO
Bright. Welcoming. The kind of sign that said we heal people here.
Sure you do.
It looked like a premium hospital. The kind rich families drove their sick relatives to, the kind that had art in the waiting rooms and fresh flowers at reception and staff who remembered your name.
It looked like somewhere you went to get better.
Adrian had seen the photo in the folder. He knew what came out of this place.
The beauty of it made his skin crawl more than the ugliness of everything surrounding it. At least South Metro was honest about what it was. This thing this gleaming white lie sitting in the middle of all that rot — was something else entirely.
Compensating, he thought. Hard.
Below, the guards weren't regular security. They were military-grade. Kevlar vests. Assault rifles held at the low-ready. Their faces hidden behind reflective visors. A deliberate contrast to the pristine facade thirty meters behind them like the building was showing two faces at once and didn't care who noticed anymore.
"Report," Elias's voice crackled in his ear. Dry. Distant.
"Gate rotations are tight," Adrian muttered, keeping his lips barely moving. "Military contractors. No insignias. Lots of guns. You know, the fun kind."
"Mercenaries," Elias confirmed.
"Cheaper than liability insurance."
"Also cheaper than human decency, apparently."
"Any blind spots?"
"None. They're professional. You'll need an inside angle. Someone on the payroll to flip."
"You think employees are lining up to squeal?"
"Better them than me getting ventilated for a rumor," Adrian shot back. "I'm allergic to bullets. They make me break out in death."
He watched a black transport truck rumble through the gates. No markings. Heavily armored. As it passed over a bump, the suspension groaned under immense weight.
What the hell are they moving? Bowling balls made of lead?
"I'll see who I can shake loose," Elias said. "Don't get sentimental if it costs extra. And Adrian?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't get caught."
"Wasn't planning on it. Getting caught is terrible for my complexion."
10:47 | The Mistake
He knew he was pushing it, but he needed the shot. The black truck had parked near a loading dock. The rear doors were open.
Adrian had climbed a chain-link fence, balancing on a rusted beam to get a clear angle with his micro-camera.
This is a terrible idea.
This is how people die in horror movies.
The smart ones stay in the car.
He zoomed in.
It wasn't supplies.
It was cages.
Human-sized cages.
Oh good. Cages. Just what I wanted to see today.
Click.
Whirrrrr.
The sound was small, like an angry hornet with a grudge.
Adrian looked up. A drone. Small, black, with a red optical eye staring directly at him.
"Shit."
Well. That's suboptimal.
A siren blared a mechanical shriek that tore through the heavy air.
"Contact! Sector 4!" a voice roared from below.
Adrian didn't wait. He dropped from the fence, hitting the concrete hard, rolling to absorb the impact.
Ow ow ow ow—
Crack-thwip.
A bullet chipped the brick inches from his head.
—OW.
He ran.
The crowd screamed and scattered. Adrian vaulted over a stall of rotting fruit, his boots slipping on the pulp. More shots rang out, controlled, rhythmic fire. These guys weren't missing by accident. They were bracketing him.
Great. Professionals. I love professionals. They're so thorough about the murdering.
"Elias!" he hissed, lungs burning. "I'm burned! Sector 4! Send flowers to my funeral!"
"I hear it," Elias said, voice calm but tight. "Extraction is hot. Get to the roof. Now!"
"Oh sure, just get to the roof. Easy. Why didn't I think of that?"
Adrian ducked into an alleyway. Dead end, except for a fire escape that looked like it hadn't been inspected since the invention of fire escapes.
Of course.
He jumped, grabbing the rusted ladder. Metal groaned like a dying whale. A bullet sparked against the railing, stinging his cheek with hot shrapnel.
Son of a—
He scrambled up, muscles screaming, vaulting onto the tar-paper roof just as a burst of automatic fire chewed up the brickwork below.
He collapsed against a chimney stack, gasping. Heart hammering against his ribs like it was trying to escape. Blood on his palm. Rust under his nails.
Still alive. Surprisingly.
The silence returned.
But it wasn't peaceful. It was heavy. Waiting.
He closed his eyes, trying to regulate his breathing.
In.
Out.
Don't think about it. Don't think about—
But the adrenaline twisted.
The smell of ozone and gunpowder it wasn't the roof anymore.
Fire.
The beam snapping.
The heat on his skin blistering, peeling near the edges.
Someone screaming his name or maybe he was the one screaming ? he couldn't tell any more
"Adrian!"
The voice in his ear snapped him back.
He opened his eyes. No fire. Just the gray sky of South Metro.
Right. Present. Here. Not burning alive. That's good.
"I'm here," he croaked.
"Garrick is inbound. 60 seconds. Move your ass."
"Moving my ass. Ass en route. We're all very mobile here."
He forced himself up. Legs shaking. Hands trembling.
Come on. Just a little further. You can have a breakdown later. Pencil it in for Thursday.
12:15 | Extraction
The helicopter banked hard, kicking up a storm of grit. Garrick leaned out, the grin on his face sharp and predatory in the fading light.
"Quite the stroll, Agent! Trip over anything interesting?"
Adrian grabbed the skid and pulled himself into the cabin. Collapsed into the seat, chest heaving, tasting copper and regret.
"Just my will to live," he managed to wheeze.
"Didn't know you still had one of those."
"It's on backorder."
"Aw, c'mon. One day you're gonna crack a real smile. I can feel it."
"Don't hold your breath. Actually, do. Please."
The chopper lifted, swinging away from the gunfire that sparkled uselessly below them like angry fireflies with terrible aim.
Adrian leaned his head back. Cold. The adrenaline draining away, leaving him hollow.
You're fine. You're not dead. That's basically a win.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out the micro-camera. Stared at the tiny screen.
The image was grainy, but clear enough.
Cages. Empty cages with restraints still attached. Bloodstains on the metal floors.
"We got something?" Garrick asked, voice softer now, sensing the mood.
Adrian looked out the window at the rotting city below. At the Nexo facility shrinking in the distance, its white walls still gleaming, that bright sign still burning clean against the smoke-stained sky like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had ever been wrong.
"Yeah," he whispered. "We got a reason to go back."
"You say that like it's a good thing."
"It's not."
"Then why do you sound so determined?"
Adrian didn't answer. Just stared at the photo.
Because someone has to. Because twenty-three people went missing and nobody gives a shit. Because if I don't, who will?
"You know what the worst part is?" he said finally.
"What?"
"I'm gonna need new boots. These ones are covered in mystery goo."
Garrick laughed. Actually laughed. "You're insane."
"Little bit, yeah." Adrian closed his eyes. "Little bit."
The helicopter cut through the dying light, carrying them away from South Metro.
But Adrian knew he'd be back.
Always back.
The helicopter cut through the dying light. Adrian kept his eyes on the photo. Twenty-three people. He knew their names now. He was going to learn their faces.