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Chapter 5 - Chapter 5: Tangled Threads

The alley stank of damp concrete and something sharper metal, maybe blood, maybe rust. My boots squelched as I followed the fading footprints, eyes scanning every shadow. My own voice muttered in my head, sarcastic as ever. "Fantastic, Dylan. You're about to step into who-knows-what. Don't die. Seriously, try not to."

The neon glow from the street above fractured across puddles like broken promises. Trash cans leaned at odd angles, shadows pooling like spilled ink. Someone or something had been here recently, hurriedly, leaving a mess behind.

A torn piece of paper fluttered near a dumpster. I snatched it, unfolding it carefully. Coordinates? A name? Scribbles I couldn't yet make sense of. Typical. Cryptic. Just how life liked to toy with me.

I muttered, "Oh, perfect. A puzzle. Because normal is boring and safe, right?"

Then the why hit me the reason I was doing this, chasing shadows, following footprints, poking into alleyways that screamed don't go here.

I pressed the paper to my chest. "Why am I doing this? Because I notice things. Because someone disappears and it's mildly entertaining to see how messy it gets. Mostly because I'm bored. And unlucky. The perfect mix for stumbling into trouble. Call it a skill if you want curse works too."

Footsteps. Always footsteps. I froze, crouching low. A figure passed at the alley entrance tall, deliberate, almost gliding. Didn't notice me. Or maybe it was testing me. Typical.

I crouched over a metallic emblem glinting near a fire escape. Small, precise, like a token. I slipped it into my pocket. Nothing screamed "syndicate" yet, but the precision someone organized. Dangerous.

"Organized chaos," I whispered to myself. "Love that. Makes life more… lively." What can I say, I am a sucker for chaos

The alley ended in a dead-end, but the clues pointed elsewhere a chain-link fence, a narrow service road, faint tire marks. Whoever or whatever had been here wanted me to follow. Or maybe it didn't care. Either way, I was following.

A low hum vibrated through the alley. Electrical, mechanical, somewhere deeper in the shadows. I crouched behind a dumpster, breath shallow, heartbeat echoing in my ears. "Don't die. Don't die. Maybe just get slightly scared. That's safe."

Then a whisper, cutting through the hum:

"You shouldn't be here."

Pulse spiked. I ducked lower. Footstep closer this time, deliberate, searching. Whoever it was, they knew I was paying attention.

I muttered, softly, almost to myself: "Congratulations, Dylan. You're officially involved. Not by choice. But here you are. Why do you do this? Curiosity? Conscience? Boredom? Unlucky streak? Yeah, probably all of the above."

The emblem in my pocket reminded me: someone had left it on purpose. A warning. A lure. An invitation.

Splash… splash…

The rain had returned, pattering on coat and puddles. The city whispered, indifferent, patient, alive. And I knew one thing: the game had just begun. I couldn't walk away. Not tonight. Not ever,

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