January 3rd, 2021 | 2:00 PM | Austin, Texas
The air was dry, chilled by a wind that had wandered down from the north. The city of Austin buzzed with a post-holiday hangover—shoppers, tourists, and college kids. But Blaze had no interest in celebration. Today, he was hunting.
Inside his dimly lit apartment, the curtains drawn and every electronic device shielded, Blaze sat barefoot at the center of a chalk-drawn circle. Surrounding him were sketches, wires, cutouts of traffic maps, and digital screens blinking static.
He opened his blue eyes, crystalline and sharp, like blades honed over obsidian. His black hair framed his face with immaculate poise. Every breath he took was measured, every heartbeat deliberate. His mind was racing, but outwardly, he was the picture of absolute control.
"You watch the rats run," Blaze whispered. "But you forgot one of them can bite."
---
2:42 PM | Near 3rd Street and Brazos, Austin
Blaze's figure moved with grace along the rooftops, leaping over rails and sliding across angled window ledges. His gentleman outfit, tailored and flexible, did not hinder him. He tracked the signals he'd mapped using a corrupted police scanner he had hijacked and rewired.
He stopped, perched on the steel edge of a parking garage, eyes locked onto the plaza below. A mannequin dressed like him—same coat, same gait, same hair color—strolled casually. He had created a visual decoy with minor robotics. Just enough to draw attention.
Fifteen minutes in, a man shifted near a hot dog stand. Too clean. Sunglasses indoors. Touching his ear twice. Blaze's eyes narrowed.
"You blinked."
---
3:10 PM | Alley behind East 4th Street
The man struggled against a pressure point hold Blaze had perfected from watching security takedown footage. A slight twist of muscle, a sharp push of elbow, and the scout fell silent.
"Name," Blaze said. Calm, but his eyes glinted with cruelty.
"W-why are you doing this? I don't know what you mean—"
Crack. Blaze had dislocated the man's shoulder with surgical precision.
"Name."
"Silas! Silas is the recruiter! I just watch. That's all I do!"
"And who does Silas report to?"
"I-I don't know. Just calls them the Architects. No faces. Only encrypted channels."
"Useless people like you make me yawn."
"Please! I swear, that's all I know!"
"You're lucky I only need your words, not your breath."
Blaze injected him with a mild paralytic, then left the man slumped beside a dumpster, wiping his gloves clean as he disappeared into the street crowd.
---
7:53 PM | The Violet Room | Downtown Austin
Lights pulsed. Music throbbed. Hidden behind a wall of liquor and money laundering, the Violet Room was alive with noise and lies.
Blaze walked in like royalty. His coat shimmered under low light, blue eyes catching reflections from the neon signs.
He spotted Silas within minutes: tall, confident, overcompensating. Wearing a gold watch too cheap to be real. Blaze slid into a seat near him.
"Silas," he said smoothly, letting the name hit like a dart.
The man tensed. "Do I know you?"
"Not yet. But I know the game. And I want in."
Silas smirked. "Kid, this isn't some LARP. Real people get hurt."
"Hurt is what I do for sport. Let me guess. The last guy you brought in didn't scream enough?"
Silas's face twitched.
"You talk big. But why should I even listen?"
"Because I've already eliminated your scout."
"What?"
"Don't act surprised. The guy with the sunglasses who can't aim a mic right. He's sleeping like a baby now."
Silas narrowed his eyes. "You little psycho."
"Flattery won't help you. I want access to the next stage. Or I start hunting in reverse."
Silas leaned in. "You think you're the only predator in this city?"
"No," Blaze said, his tone turning cold. "I think I'm the only one without a leash."
---
9:17 PM | Violet Room Storage Room
Silas lay on the floor, eyes wide, froth at the corners of his mouth. Blaze had made it look like an accidental overdose—a mix of prescription painkillers and ethanol. But before that, he had pried every scrap of digital data from Silas's phone.
Encrypted, but Blaze wasn't worried. He had already rewritten parts of the operating system himself.
Blaze muttered aloud to himself, analyzing the data.
"Messages routed through five proxies... timestamps irregular... Ah, hello. Anomaly in packet sequence. Hidden directory."
A new file appeared: coordinates, coded messages, and one word: Chicago.
"You kept secrets. But not well enough."
Before he left, he whispered:
"Game over for you. But I'm just beginning."
---
10:22 PM | Blaze's Apartment
Screens glowed with scrolling data. Contact chains. Video clips. Files marked OBSERVER DECEASED. Blaze sat in a leather chair, sipping dark tea.
He watched as a map of the United States blinked—highlighting Chicago.
"The Architects... You thought yourselves gods," he murmured. "But I am the devil hiding in your code."
The phone buzzed.
New message: Participant Status: Marked for Termination - BLAZE.
He smiled.
"Good. That means I'm close."
He took one last sip of tea, then pulled out a fresh notepad.
"Next move: contact point, Chicago. Outfit modification: black turtleneck, trench overlay. Route: flight tracker hacked and spoofed."
Blaze stood up, his shadow stretching across the walls.
"Let's see who plays god... and who gets buried."