Uncovered

Boris strode out of the warehouse, his trench coat billowing as he stepped into a dark alley. He glanced at the smartwatch on his wrist, muttering, "Should've made him talk before putting a bullet in his head. Now I don't know where the Don's other facilities are."

Black's voice stirred in his mind, calm but pointed. "The Don knows we're on his tail by now. But something's off—Gervaine isn't this reckless. Before you make your next move, let me dig a little first."

Boris exhaled sharply. "Fine." He stepped forward, letting the shadows swallow him as he disappeared into the night.

In a dark, deserted alley, the shadows twisted unnaturally. Then, with a subtle shift, Black emerged from the shadows.

Black opened his eyes, adjusting his hoodie. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black-rimmed glass, putting it on he exhaled.

With measured steps, Black navigated the dimly lit streets of Crestview, weaving through alleys and backstreets until he reached a seemingly abandoned brick wall, its surface scarred by layers of graffiti. He tapped a specific section—twice, then once more. A faint whirr sounded as a hidden biometric scanner sprang to life, casting a soft green glow against his fingertips. The wall shifted, retracting like a desk drawer to reveal a single, debit card resting inside.

Picking up the card Black chuckled, twirling the card between his fingers. "Looks like I won, Boris. Shouldn't take a month for the kid to find out." he murmured.

Sliding the card into his pocket, he booked a taxi and headed for the bustling Ryzen Tech Plaza—a high-end hub where the latest technological marvels were displayed like works of art.

"Welcome to Quantum Edge Technologies," an AI greeted as he entered.

Chuckling lightly, Black murmured, "Quantum Edge—it's like they're not even trying to come up with better names."

Without missing a beat, he moved through the store with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what he needed.

Looking at the network technology section he saw, A state-of-the-art neural processing rig with adaptive quantum computing.

Multiple portable servers with encrypted cloud relays.

Custom network tools for penetration testing and security overrides.

And, of course, a multi-threaded hacking suite.

Black's gaze hovered over the standard network tools before scoffing. "Amateurs." His gaze shifted to the far end of the aisle—quantum computing, high-level encryption breakers. Now that was worth his time. He smiled, reaching for the mini quantum computer laptop, and a few other high-end gadgets. "That's the one."

At the self-checkout, an attendant eyed him skeptically as the total—an absurd sum in ERC—flashed on the screen.

"Delivery address?" the AI prompted.

Black tapped the screen, and an address appeared. Royale Hotel.

He smirked, swiped his debit card, and watched as the transaction was approved. Pocketing his receipt, he exited the store and hailed a cab.

Minutes later, as the cab sped off into the neon-soaked night, Black leaned against the door, glancing at the district's skyline.

"Time to get to work," he murmured, sliding into the backseat.

"Take me to the Atrium Royale," he instructed.

___________________________

The beeping sounds of an alarm buzzed through the air.

Jack stirred, groaning as a sharp headache throbbed behind his eyes. The dull hum of the air conditioning filled the room, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the crisp hotel linens.

"Morning, sunshine," a voice echoed in his mind, playful and mocking.

Jack ignored it, rubbing his temples as he tried to recall the events of last night. His memories were disjointed—fragmented images of city lights, strange faces, and a lingering feeling of unease.

"Where am I?" he muttered, glancing around the room.

The embroidered letters on the bedspread confirmed it: Royale Hotel.

Before he could process the thought, a firm knock came from the door.

"Your breakfast, sir."

Jack hesitated before pushing himself off the bed. His limbs felt sluggish, his mind hazy, as if he were waking from a dream he couldn't quite remember.

He shuffled to the door, cautiously unlocking it. A uniformed hotel attendant stood there, a polite smile plastered across her face.

"Good morning, Mr. Vales. Your breakfast is ready."

She gestured toward the silver cart beside her, neatly arranged with toast, eggs, fresh fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Jack blinked, startled by the name. Vales. It took him a second longer than it should have to register it as his own.

"Uhm… thanks," he muttered, wheeling the cart inside before shutting the door.

The smell of coffee did little to shake the growing unease in his chest. Something was wrong. He felt wrong.

Sitting down, he reached for the cup, letting the heat seep into his fingers. He took a slow sip, allowing the caffeine to jolt his system as his mind started piecing things together.

The room was pristine—too pristine. His bag sat neatly by the chair. A brand-new laptop, still in its sealed case, rested on the desk. Several high-end gadgets were stacked beside it, the kind of tech he couldn't afford—or at least, hadn't consciously purchased.

His heartbeat quickened.

Jack stood, walking over to the desk, his fingers tracing the edges of the sealed devices. He grabbed the receipt lying next to them.

Quantum Edge Technologies – Total: 13,450 ERC

His breath hitched. The room felt smaller, suffocating. His fingers trembled as he picked up the receipt again, the absurd number blurring.

He didn't remember buying any of this.

No, scratch that—he couldn't have bought any of this. He didn't have the kind of money to afford it.

His pulse pounded in his ears as he turned toward the mirror hanging on the wall. He stared at his own reflection, eyes scanning his own face as if searching for answers in his own expression.

Then—it hit him. The blackouts. The missing time. The fragmented memories.

Jack clutched the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening.

"It all makes sense now…" he whispered.

His reflection stared back at him, wide-eyed and shaken.

"The blackouts. The voices in my head. The things I don't remember doing."

He inhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I'm not alone in my own body, am I?"

Half-expecting an answer, he waited. But after a few seconds, none came. Jack swallowed, his mind racing. If this was real—if he was truly splitting into different people—then the question remained:

Who else was living inside him?

And more importantly…

What had they already done in his name?