The subway station was a ghost of its former self. The tiles were cracked, graffiti covered the walls, and the faint smell of mildew lingered in the air. Platform 13, long abandoned by the city's transit system, lay shrouded in darkness.
We arrived fifteen minutes before midnight. Mara insisted we scout the area thoroughly, ensuring no one was lying in wait. Alan and I kept close as she moved ahead, her knife drawn and eyes scanning every shadow.
"This place gives me the creeps," Alan whispered.
"Everything about this situation is creepy," I replied, my voice low.
The platform was empty, save for a few rusted benches and piles of debris. The flickering light of an old vending machine cast eerie shadows on the walls. I adjusted my backpack, the weight of the USB drive feeling heavier than ever.
"Stay sharp," Mara said, returning from her sweep. "We don't know if Cipher's alone—or if this is a setup."
Alan nodded, though his nervous glances toward the stairwell betrayed his unease. We took positions near the edge of the platform, close enough to retreat if necessary but far enough to avoid being cornered.
The minutes ticked by in silence, each one stretching longer than the last. The city above felt like a world away, its noise replaced by the distant hum of machinery deep within the tunnels.
Then, faint footsteps echoed down the stairwell.
Mara tensed, her grip tightening on her knife. Alan froze, his breath hitching. I felt my pulse quicken as a figure emerged from the shadows—a tall, wiry man with messy hair and glasses that reflected the dim light.
"Relax," he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm Cipher."
His voice was calm, almost casual, but his sharp gaze swept over us with calculated precision. He wore a battered leather jacket and carried a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.
"You're late," Mara said, not lowering her guard.
"And you're paranoid," Cipher shot back, smirking. "Smart, though. I respect that."
He approached slowly, stopping a few feet away. "So," he said, looking at each of us in turn, "you've got something for me. Something worth dragging me out of my cozy little hideaway."
Mara pulled the USB drive from her pocket and held it up. "This," she said. "We need it decrypted."
Cipher's eyes gleamed with interest. "What's on it?"
"Information that could expose Zenith," Mara replied. "And a trail of bodies if they find out we have it."
Cipher whistled softly, impressed. "You don't aim low, do you?"
"Can you do it or not?" Mara demanded.
Cipher reached out, and Mara hesitated for a fraction of a second before handing him the drive. He examined it briefly before tucking it into his bag.
"I can decrypt it," he said. "But it's not going to be quick, and it's definitely not going to be quiet. Once I start, Zenith's going to know someone's poking around in their systems."
"We know the risks," Mara said.
Cipher tilted his head, studying her. "Do you? Because if they track me down, it won't just be me they come for. It'll be all of you, too."
"We're already on their radar," I said, stepping forward. "This is our only chance to fight back."
Cipher chuckled, shaking his head. "You've got guts, I'll give you that." He pulled a tablet from his bag and started typing, his fingers moving with practiced ease. "I'll need a safe place to work. Somewhere they can't trace me."
"There's a safehouse nearby," Alan said, surprising us. "It's not much, but it's off the grid."
Cipher glanced at him, then nodded. "That'll do. Lead the way."
We left the station quickly, sticking to side streets and alleys. Cipher kept up a steady stream of commentary, his tone light despite the tension.
"Zenith's been after me for years," he said at one point. "They don't like it when people dig into their dirty little secrets. But that just makes it more fun, doesn't it?"
Mara didn't respond, her focus entirely on scanning the area for threats. I stayed close to Cipher, watching him carefully. For all his bravado, there was an edge to him—something that hinted at the danger he'd faced to survive this long.
When we reached the safehouse, Cipher wasted no time setting up his equipment. The room was small and bare, with a single table and a few chairs. He plugged the USB drive into his laptop and started typing furiously.
"This is going to take a while," he said without looking up. "The encryption on this thing is no joke. If Zenith doesn't want it cracked, it's probably for a good reason."
"Good reason or not, we need it decrypted," Mara said. "How long?"
"Hours," Cipher replied. "Maybe longer, depending on how many layers of security they've got."
Mara nodded, her jaw tight. "Then we'll keep watch. Let us know the moment you make progress."
As Cipher worked, the weight of our situation settled over me like a shroud. The safehouse felt more like a trap with every passing second, and the silence outside was far from comforting.
I couldn't shake the feeling that time was running out—and that when Zenith finally came for us, we wouldn't be ready.
.....
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