It was the Morning of the next day and the house was silent. It was the kind of silence that made the hum of the ceiling fan sound louder than necessary. Dre sat at the edge of his bed, staring at the chessboard he had recreated from memory. It wasn't just a game now—it was a battle map.
Every move Elric made earlier replayed in his head, and for the first time, Dre wasn't sure if he had the upper hand.
That wasn't supposed to happen.
He picked up the black king and rolled it between his fingers.
"He looked directly at the camera…" Dre whispered to himself.
Only two people had access to the bug locations—him and a ghost account he created for backdoor viewing. If Elric knew, then he wasn't working alone. Someone had given him information. And that meant Dre was being watched more closely than he realized.
He grabbed his phone and opened a secure folder—a set of backup logs, hidden in layers of encryption. He began cross-checking Elric's first appearance against unusual internet traffic near the school.
Then… a hit.
Someone had accessed a local network node near the staffroom two days before Elric transferred.
"Gotcha," Dre muttered, lips curling.
This wasn't coincidence. Elric was placed. And now, it was time to send a message—not to Elric, but to whoever put him here.
---
The Next Morning
The entire school was buzzing, but no one knew why. Students found printed pages scattered across the hallway. Nothing crazy. Just lines of poetry.
But not just any poetry.
They were verses from a banned psychological horror book Dre had once quoted in his second journal—which he had burned.
The pages referenced fear, perception, manipulation. But hidden between the lines were coded messages—ciphered coordinates, times, and a challenge.
Elric found one near the water fountain. He bent to pick it up and read silently.
"You know I see you. Come to the library at 3:00 PM. Let's talk,man-to-man."
No signature. But Elric knew exactly who it was.
---
At 3:00 PM
The library was dim, curtains drawn. Dre had picked a corner booth, surrounded by stacked books. Nothing that drew attention—but just isolated enough for a private talk.
Elric entered with calm steps and sat across from him, his backpack still strapped on.
"You wanted to talk?" he asked.
Dre nodded slowly. "You're not who you say you are."
Elric raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"
"I know so. Someone brought you here. But what you don't know…" Dre leaned forward, eyes cold, "is that I saw it coming."
"You always do, don't you?" Elric said.
They both sat in silence for a second. The tension wasn't loud, it was thick—like fog with teeth.
"You think this is a game," Elric finally said. "But whatever you're doing, it won't end well. I've seen minds like yours—brilliant, but too used to being alone. That kind of genius cracks eventually."
Dre leaned back and smiled. "That's where you're wrong. I've already cracked. And I put myself back together sharper."
He stood up.
"This isn't a game, Elric. It's a warning."
And with that, he left.
What Elric didn't notice? There was a small microphone hidden under the seat. The entire conversation had been recorded—and fed into an auto-scrambler that was now uploading it anonymously to several underground sites.
Not to expose Elric. No.
To send a signal to whoever was watching: I'm aware.I can see your every move.
---
Meanwhile
Zara had been keeping her distance. Her instincts had been flaring ever since Elric arrived. Something about the way he moved. Too calculated. Too controlled. And now Dre was spiraling into something she couldn't read anymore.
She wasn't sure who was more dangerous.
But what she had found last night disturbed her. One of her own voice notes—taken from her private recorder—had disappeared.
Someone was listening.
She sat in the girls' bathroom, door locked, staring at a burner phone she hadn't used in months. With trembling hands, she dialed a number she swore never to call again.
The line clicked.
"Zara?" a man's voice said, cautious.
"Uncle Felix," she said. "I think… I think I'm in something I can't handle alone. And I need your help."Uncle Felix Laughed over the phone.
---
Later That Night
Dre returned home and unlocked his closet drawer. He reached past old notebooks and found what he was looking for—a second phone. One with no GPS, no SIM, no ID. Just a connection to a single offline AI program he had been training himself.
He called it "Talon."
Talon was basic but sharp. It collected patterns, voice samples, tone changes, and logged inconsistencies in people Dre interacted with. It had already flagged Elric three times.
He uploaded the library conversation.
"Analyze tone, intention, deception markers," Dre said.
The AI whirred for a second.
[RESULT: Subject Elric Vaughn is intentionally concealing 72% of real intent. Tone suggests he was aware of surveillance but didn't want to trigger confrontation. Recommended action: Increased counter-surveillance and triangulation.]
Dre nodded.
The war had officially started. And it wasn't going to be clean.
It was going to be beautiful.
---