Date: December 31, 2020 – Austin, Texas, USA
The streets of Austin were alive with the energy of a city on the brink of New Year's Eve. Neon lights reflected off the wet asphalt, a mix of colors that flickered like the pulse of a city constantly in motion. Yet for Blaze, the world outside was nothing but a blur—his attention was elsewhere. He moved through the crowd with the ease of someone who didn't belong to the chaotic hum of human life around him. People passed him by, completely unaware of his presence, his thoughts, his plans. To them, he was just another teenager in the sea of revelers. To him, they were nothing but pieces on a board.
The date was December 31, 2020, and Blaze was on his way to a meeting that would change everything. The invitation had been clear: Arrive by 7:30 PM. No exceptions. The address was a nondescript building on Sixth Street, tucked between two bars with neon signs buzzing in the chilly air. But Blaze wasn't interested in the details of the location. He knew better than anyone that a building's exterior didn't matter. What mattered was who awaited inside.
The night was cold, and his breath hung in the air, but Blaze felt no chill. His focus was sharp, every inch of the world around him feeding into the calculations running through his mind. He could hear the faint sound of a car revving its engine a block away, the rush of a conversation between two women arguing about New Year's plans, the way the woman in the red coat across the street fumbled with her phone as she tried to look casual. Her unease was evident to Blaze even from a distance, and it made him smirk inwardly. She wasn't expecting a simple call. She was waiting for something... or someone.
Interesting. She's not just anxious. She's running from something. Or someone.
His eyes flickered briefly over her figure before he continued on his path, heading for the meeting that awaited him.
As Blaze reached the address, he slowed his steps, studying the building before him. The exterior was nothing special—a brick wall, a single door, and a faint hum of electricity from the lights. The door, however, wasn't locked. It opened automatically as he approached, the hinges creaking slightly as if the building itself were inviting him in.
Inside, the air was cool and almost sterile, as if the very atmosphere was designed to make one feel small, insignificant. The space was minimalist, with polished floors and a lone figure standing by a glass table.
A man in his late thirties, wearing a perfectly tailored black suit, waited. He didn't smile, didn't move, his eyes merely trained on Blaze with an unsettling intensity. The man's hands were clasped behind his back, his stance rigid and rehearsed.
Blaze didn't speak immediately. His eyes scanned the man in front of him, calculating, dissecting. His mind was already forming a thousand conclusions. The man's posture was slightly too stiff, and his gaze—almost predatory—was a dead giveaway.
The invitation had not been for something casual.
"Blaze," the man said smoothly, his voice calm but carrying an underlying tension. "Welcome. I'm glad you could make it."
Blaze's eyes narrowed ever so slightly, studying the man. He didn't trust people who knew too much about him. And he trusted even less those who invited him to places like this.
"You know a lot about me," Blaze said, his voice steady, cutting through the silence. "But I don't know you."
The man smiled, but there was no warmth in it. It was as practiced as his posture, a smile meant to reassure.
"That's part of the game, Blaze. You'll come to know me… and the game itself. But first, I need you to listen."
Blaze tilted his head slightly, his eyes scanning the man with an intensity that seemed to pierce straight through him. The man's calm demeanor didn't phase Blaze in the slightest. If anything, it only made him more suspicious. A man so composed was likely hiding something.
The invitation guy stepped closer, his footsteps too measured. Blaze allowed him to close the gap, noting how the man's eyes never left his own. The game had begun.
"What is it that you want from me?" Blaze asked, his tone deceptively casual.
The man's lips twitched as if he had rehearsed this answer a thousand times, but Blaze noticed the flicker in his eyes—the subtle hesitation. He was hiding something. Blaze could feel it.
"You're a genius, Blaze," the man said. "You're exactly who we need for this game. You'll understand the stakes, the rules... the challenges."
Blaze allowed the silence to hang between them for a beat longer than necessary, the tension palpable. His thoughts whirled, calculating each word, each gesture. It was all a trap. He could tell by the way the man phrased his words—too perfect, too rehearsed. He was trying to sell something, something important, but Blaze wasn't a fool.
"Oh, I understand all right," Blaze said, his voice calm. "But you're not being honest with me. You want more than just my intellect. You want my skills for something else. What is it?"
The man's face twitched. There it was—the crack in the facade. Blaze's words had struck a nerve.
"Let's just say," the invitation guy began, his voice now slightly strained, "the game isn't what you think. It's bigger. You're not just a player. You're a piece."
Blaze smirked inwardly, knowing he had already won. The man was unraveling under his gaze, and it was only a matter of time before he cracked completely.
"So, what's the game, then?" Blaze pressed, taking a step closer. His presence was suffocating now, a calculated move to unsettle the man further.
The invitation guy shifted, his hands tight behind his back. He was trying to hide his growing anxiety, but it was clear—he was losing control. Blaze's sharp eyes caught every detail: the nervous flick of his wrist, the subtle deepening of his breath, the faint twitch of his lips. The invitation guy was terrified, and Blaze knew why.
"You don't know what you're getting into," the invitation guy said, his voice now tight with warning.
Blaze smiled coldly. "I know exactly what I'm getting into. You're playing a game with me, but you've already lost."
The invitation guy froze, his body stiffening. Blaze's words were deliberate, slow. He had no intention of letting the man regain control.
"You don't understand," the invitation guy said weakly, but Blaze could see the fear now, raw and palpable. "You're not in charge. You'll have no choice."
Blaze took another step forward, closing the gap. His voice dropped to a whisper, chilling in its finality.
"You're right about one thing," Blaze said. "I'm not in charge. But I will be. You've already lost, and you don't even know it yet."
The invitation guy's hand twitched toward his pocket, but Blaze was quicker. Before the man could react, Blaze had already made his move, using his keen sense of timing to catch him off guard. He had played this out in his mind a thousand times—there was only one outcome, and it was his.
Blaze's gaze softened, almost mockingly. "You're a pawn. But you'll tell me everything. You'll give me all the information I need, or I'll make sure this game becomes a nightmare for you."
The invitation guy's face drained of color, his body stiff with fear.
"I... I don't have a choice, do I?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.
"No," Blaze replied, his voice cold and commanding. "You never did."