"What the actual fuck, kid… don't let your mom know about this. I'm so fucked…"
Uncle Chang's voice was low, tight, almost strangled by disbelief. His hands were pressed into his temples as if he could push the problem out of existence. His usually confident frame looked fragile—like someone who had been dropped into the deep end without a life vest.
I understood immediately. This wasn't just about me. This was about him.
He had been the one who opened the doors to all of this. Taught me how to navigate firewalls, manipulate data, and think like the system, not the user. His lessons weren't wrong—they were precise, brilliant—but he hadn't accounted for what a reckless, curious kid like me could dig up.
"I know," I said softly. "I already started my own investigation. I've secured evidence. I just need to make it solid. Concrete. Unbreakable."
He exhaled, slow and shaky, like letting out a month's worth of tension in a single breath. His fingers ran through his hair, down his face, over his mouth. He was picturing all the ways this could go sideways.
"…Alright," he said finally. "Hit me up when you need me. I'll help you. But listen… be careful. No friends. No heroes. Nobody else. You stay anonymous. Promise me."
"I promise," I said.
Silence stretched. We both knew the stakes. Not just my life. Not just his. This was bigger than us, bigger than curiosity, bigger than rules.
Before either of us could process, footsteps approached.
Mom.
Every muscle in me tensed. The bunny look hadn't failed before, but panic was its own enemy.
The door creaked open.
Uncle Chang froze mid-motion, papers clattering to the floor. I froze in the middle of my room, far from where I should've been sitting, far from the comfort of order. Suspicion hung thick in the air.
Mom's eyes narrowed.
Uncle Chang and I locked eyes. No words. No signals. Just instinct.
We deployed the ultimate weapon.
Lips pouted. Cheeks puffed. Chin down. Eyes up. The full effect.
"Mommy… I'm hungry," I said, soft and small.
Her expression melted. Instantly. Her hands flew to my face, brushing strands of hair away. "Aww, baby," she cooed, melting into mother mode. "You didn't tell me you were hungry!"
My ears burned. Cheeks hotter than lava. Uncle Chang's eyes sparkled with mischief—he had no right to enjoy this, but he clearly did.
Out of spite, I pushed it further. Voice trembling. Eyes watery.
"Uncle Chang is bullying me!"
Chaos erupted. Mom scolded. Uncle Chang sputtered. I stuck out my tongue, triumphant. He looked offended, but this was tradition. Routine. A ritual of survival.
Checkup finished, we picked up Alice. She latched to my leg immediately, chattering endlessly about doctors and bandages. Her energy was relentless, innocent. I absorbed it like a sponge before I could escape.
Back home, I bolted for my room the moment Alice disappeared into her toy drawer. Door clicked. Lock engaged.
PC on. The glow welcomed me. Safe. Dangerous. My world.
I opened the encrypted folders again, crime footage loaded. No hesitation. Focused. Cold. Sharp.
Time stamps. Camera angles. Room layouts. Movements traced like DNA strands. Each frame cross-referenced.
The SUV was the spine of the investigation.
I tracked it city block by block, camera by camera, noting gaps, dead zones, transitions. Every detour questioned. Every anomaly logged.
Then it turned off-road.
Mountains.
Not a dead end. A pivot.
I shifted tactics. Internet archives. Property records. Forgotten developments. Closed projects.
Mid-city, northern mountains, City B. Two options appeared. One matched history.
Abandoned site. Once a food factory. Shut down for mismanagement and FDA violations. Forgotten. Silent.
My pulse spiked. Fingers clenched. Eyes widened.
"Found you, bitch," I whispered, grinning into the dark.
But it wasn't a triumphant grin. It was the thrill of the hunt. The rush of danger. The addictive pull of being unseen, of being the ghost that moved the pieces.
I leaned back. Anonymous wasn't a word anymore. It was a direction. A purpose.
Every hair on my arms prickled. My chest tightened. My mind raced through worst-case scenarios: surveillance, discovery, confrontation. Every thought was a calculation. Every calculation a heartbeat.
Hours passed unnoticed. Moonlight drifted across my desk. My notebook filled with scribbles, numbers, camera IDs. I traced every shadow, every plate number, every minor inconsistency.
By the time dawn threatened the skyline, I hadn't moved from my chair. My stomach growled. My hands cramped. My body ached.
But the files were perfect. The patterns complete. The evidence solid. Enough to hit the system where it hurt. Enough to keep my name intact if exposure came.
And yet, I couldn't stop.
The thrill had nestled itself deep, like a parasite I didn't care to expel. Anonymous. Precise. Dangerous. Necessary.
Somewhere far away, Charlie probably sat in his office, shaking his head, waiting for the next move. But he didn't know.
Not yet.
I exhaled, leaned back, and smiled into the glow.
Tomorrow, the hunt continued.
And I had no intention of stopping.