Barney slams the heavy steel door shut behind him.
Dust and mustiness hang thick in the air. The safehouse is a dead zone—off-grid, cold, silent.
Jill (through his earpiece): "You're safe. For now."
Barney:"Good. Now tell me where to find him. The man who set the bounty."
Jill:"His digital presence is scrubbed—locked tighter than a government blacksite. I need physical access. You'll have to upload me manually onto their servers."
Barney:"So we knock on the front door of a ghost. Brilliant."
Jill:"Not impossible. Only a few know exactly where he is. And he's not working alone. There's a whole circle of elites behind this—controlling movements, money, men. He might've issued the bounty, but he's not the only one who wants you dead."
Barney (muttering): "So it's not about stopping me. It's about sending a message."
Jill:"I've been sifting through network debris… but his location? Locked behind encryption I can't crack without physical access."
Barney:"Meaning?"
Jill:"He's off-grid. Air-gapped server. The only way in… you upload me there yourself."
Barney:"Risky."
Jill:"Everything from now on is. But this isn't just any man. He's protected by a tiered network—elite board, ultra-rich. Puppetmasters. If he ordered the bounty, he didn't do it alone."
Barney:"So we cut off a limb… but the body keeps moving."
Jill:"Cut the right limb, though, and maybe the whole thing flinches."
Barney paces. "So what's our way in?"
Jill:"Only a handful know his exact location—former associates, high-tier clients, maybe a few enforcers who owe him blood. I've mapped known movements of his subordinates. There's overlap. One of them—Victor Krenz—runs private auctions for off-books data. High-value stuff. Invitation-only. He'll know something. Found his address nearby."
—
Barney slipped a tension wrench into the apartment door's old lock and twisted with practiced ease. A soft click told him it was done. He slid inside, closing the door silently behind him. The place was a mess—half-eaten takeout, tangled wires, crumpled papers, and a buzzing monitor left on, like Victor had fled in a hurry. Good. That bought him time.
He scoped the layout in seconds: one entrance, one main room, a small hallway leading to the bedroom. Barney pulled a chair into the shadows by the door, chloroform-soaked cloth ready in one hand. His heart beat steady. Focused. Victor was part of the chain that got him hunted—he wasn't leaving here with secrets.
Minutes passed. Footsteps echoed down the hall. A key scraped the lock.
The door creaked open. Victor stepped inside, head down, pulling earbuds out and fumbling with his phone. He didn't notice Barney until it was too late.
Barney struck fast—snatching him from behind and clamping the cloth over Victor's mouth and nose. The man flailed, eyes wide with shock, but Barney's grip was iron. He dragged him inside. Within moments, Victor went limp.
Barney laid him on the floor, rolling him onto his stomach. He duct-taped Victor's wrists, ankles, and mouth, then hauled him into a chair and tied him down tight. Only then did he exhale.
He stood over the unconscious man for a moment, then turned to the laptop still glowing on the table. He pulled Jill's USB from his coat and plugged it in.
The screen flickered to life. Jill's presence flooded the system immediately.
Jill:"I'm in. Beginning deep-sector search."
Barney paced while she scanned every trace of data—emails, voice logs, transaction chains. Code flew across the screen in Jill's signature cold blue glow.
Jill:"Nothing valuable."
Barney:"He's a handler, not a keeper. Forwarding packets of encrypted data. No decryption key. No trace of source or destination. Whoever's pulling the strings knows how to cover their tracks."
Victor stirred in the chair, groaning.
Barney pulled the tape from his mouth as his eyes fluttered open. Victor coughed, wheezed, looked around—and froze when he saw Barney.
Victor:"Jesus Christ, what the hell are you—"
Barney backhanded him hard across the face.
Barney:"You know what this is. Someone put a price on my head, and I have reason to believe you helped."
Victor squirmed.
Victor:"No, no, no—I just relay the info, that's it! I swear!"
Barney leaned in, calm but cold.
Barney:"Then give me something. Names. Drop locations. Patterns. Something I can burn."
Victor's voice shook.
Victor:"There's a locker. Midtown. Dead drop. They change the location every week, but tomorrow at noon there's one scheduled. That's all I got. I never meet anyone. They send coordinates with a code. That's it."
Barney stared at him a long moment.
Barney:"If you're lying…"
Victor:"I'm not. I swear. I'm not even important to them. Just a pair of hands."
Jill's voice cut in again.
Jill:"Someone's in the building. Moving fast."
Barney's eyes narrowed.
Barney:"Too fast."
He ripped the USB drive out, shut the laptop, and turned back to Victor.
Barney:"You're lucky I don't kill you myself."
Then he vanished out the back before anyone could catch a glimpse.
The Next Morning
Barney sits in a dingy motel room, eyes sunken and shaking. Jill's voice comes from a cheap laptop.
Jill:"He's dead."
Barney:"What?"
Jill:"Victor Krenz. Suicide. Shot himself. That's the official story."
Barney: "No way. Not him. He was scared, but not scared enough to off himself. Someone cleaned house."
Jill:"They didn't know what he gave up. Didn't matter. The fact that you were there—that was the leak."
Barney (staring into the void): "I didn't even get anything."
Jill:"Doesn't matter. They think you did."
Barney sits hunched over, face lit only by Jill's glowing interface. His breath is shallow, eyes darting, mind spiraling.
Barney: "Do the cops know I was there?"
Jill:"Not officially. No surveillance hits. No reports. You're not on the record."
Barney:"Then they could've pinned it on me. Killed him and left just enough for the police to sniff me out."
Jill:"If they wanted that… you'd already be front page news. But they didn't."
Barney:"Why?"
Jill:"Because they want you breathing. They want you running. Mercs like the ones who cleaned Victor… they don't do quick kills. They enjoy the chase. The torture. The spectacle."
Barney:"They're setting an example…"
Jill:"Exactly. If they pinned it on you, they'd have to let the law take over. But that's not their style. They want control. Public fear. Quiet messages. You disappear after being dragged out screaming—that's the warning they send."
Barney:"And if I get caught?"
Jill:"You don't get a cell. You get a room. Soundproof. No windows. Plenty of time to regret poking their nest."
Silence settles. Barney stares at his reflection in the TV screen—eyes bloodshot, jaw clenched, the weight of invisible crosshairs pressing into his back.
Jill:"We need to move, Barney. Fast. Before they stop playing."