Chapter 1: The Smuggler
Kade moved like a shadow through the neon-lit alleys of District Seven. The city hummed and flickered, a thousand lights reflecting off rain-slick glass. On this side of the wall, rules were more like suggestions, and the only law was the one you could enforce with your fists or your wit.
He kept his hood low as he threaded past street vendors hawking bootleg code and black-market synthetics. A cluster of gang lookouts eyed him, but he gave them nothing—no hesitation, no reason to remember his face. He was just another ghost, another drifter in a city full of them.
Kade stopped beneath a broken holo-sign, scanning the street with the eyes of someone who’d spent too long watching for threats. A figure stepped out of the shadows, short and wiry, eyes darting everywhere.
“You’re late,” the contact whispered.
Kade shrugged. “You’re nervous.”
The exchange was fast—credits in one gloved hand, a sealed package in the other. The contact’s hands trembled, and Kade noticed the white lines of stress under their eyes.
“Word is, the AI’s running sweeps tonight. You’d better—” the contact started.
Kade cut him off with a glance. “I know how to disappear.”
He tucked the package inside his jacket, already calculating a dozen escape routes. A group of armored patrol bots rolled by, their scanners sweeping arcs of cold blue light. Kade didn’t flinch. The bots ignored him. He never gave them a reason to notice.
The contact faded into the alleys, lost to the night. Kade turned, slipping through back routes only the desperate or foolish dared walk. In this city, both groups knew his name. He delivered on time, every time. No mistakes. That was his reputation, and he guarded it with silence and skill.
He reached a steel door marked with a fading red sigil. Three sharp knocks. The slot slid open, revealing suspicious eyes. The password was old slang, something only locals used. The door opened a fraction. Kade stepped inside, senses alive.
A quick inspection—no weapons, no tricks—then he handed over the package. The recipient, a heavy-set man with mechanical eyes, nodded in approval and transferred the rest of Kade’s payment to a hidden account.
“Another clean run,” the man said, almost impressed. “You ever think of working the AI side? They could use ghosts like you.”
Kade’s expression didn’t change. “I don’t work for machines.”
He left before the conversation could turn. Back out on the street, the rain fell harder, washing neon colors into rivers at his feet. Somewhere, beyond the glass wall, the city glowed with an artificial calm. Order, they called it. Control.
On his side of the divide, chaos was a way of life.
Kade pulled his hood lower, blending into the flow of bodies and static. He didn’t look back. He never did.
Tonight, the city felt restless. Something was shifting in the dark, and even a loner like Kade could sense the coming storm.