The docks of Port Sterling always smelled of brine, diesel, and the unspoken weight of the city's underbelly. Tonight, a new, metallic tang hung heavy in the air – the unmistakable scent of blood. Detective Julian Zheng stood by the yellow crime scene tape, the flashing blue and red of patrol cars painting the pre-dawn gloom in macabre strokes. Below him, nestled amongst barnacle-encrusted pilings, a body bobbed gently with the tide. A floater.
"Male, mid-thirties, no ID," Detective Miller, his partner, droned, adjusting the surgical mask over his face.
"Looks like a bad break. Or someone made it look like one."
Julian nodded, his gaze sweeping over the scene. The usual suspects: homeless drifters, gang-related violence. But the pit in his stomach, the one that had been churning since he'd looked at Liang's file, told him this might not be so simple. The city's dark currents ran deep, and they often carried more than just debris.
He squatted, shining his flashlight into the murky water. The victim's hands were oddly clean, his clothes surprisingly intact for someone who'd been in the water for hours. No signs of a struggle on the adjacent pier. Too neat, just like Liang used to say.
"Let's get a full forensics sweep on the pier," Julian ordered, his voice cutting through Miller's routine report.
"Every inch. And I want a deep dive into his background, if we can get a name. Contacts, recent activity, anything that's off."
Miller raised an eyebrow, a silent question. Most floaters were open-and-shut. This level of detail was overkill. But he knew Julian. When the man got a hunch, he pursued it with bulldog tenacity.
"You got something, Zheng?"
"Just a feeling," Julian mumbled, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. He moved closer, inspecting the victim's face, which seemed strangely devoid of the usual waterlogged distortion. The eyes were wide open, a chilling, blank stare towards the predawn sky.
The scene supervisor, Sergeant Ramirez, approached.
"Captain Davies called. Said you were supposed to be on this one quick. What's the holdup?"
"Just doing our due diligence, Sergeant," Julian replied, not looking up. He knew Davies was watching him, testing him. The "floater" case was a distraction, a way for the Captain to pull him away from Liang's ghosts. But Julian was learning to play his own game.
He spent the next few hours meticulously documenting the scene, his mind quietly sifting through the layers of information he'd uncovered yesterday. The Huo-Feng connection. Liana Meng's "accident." Project Phoenix, whatever that was. He was drawing a web, and the threads were beginning to pull tight.
Back at the precinct, the lab report on the floater came back quickly. Cause of death: blunt force trauma to the back of the head, consistent with a fall, but also with a targeted blow. No signs of drowning. He'd been dead before he hit the water.
"So, he was murdered and then dumped," Miller summarized, tossing the file onto Julian's desk.
"Any ID yet?"
"Working on it," Julian said, his eyes scanning a specific line in the report.
"Anything unusual about his clothes? Pockets?"
"Standard, nothing. Wallet was empty. Cell phone fried from the water. Just a keycard." Miller shrugged.
"Generic building access. Could be anything."
Julian picked up the evidence bag holding the keycard. It was a sleek, black card, minimalist design, no company logo.
But as he turned it over, he noticed a faint, almost invisible etching on the surface, worn smooth by friction. He brought it closer to the fluorescent light.
A tiny, stylized symbol. A bird, almost like a phoenix, rising from abstract flames.
His breath hitched.
The symbol. He'd seen it before, just briefly, in the corners of his mind, floating around the edges of Liang's old case notes. And now, on a body dumped in the harbor.
"Run this keycard," Julian ordered, his voice sharper.
"See if it's connected to any known corporate access points. Start with major tech and development firms. Especially those linked to Huo Enterprises or their subsidiaries."
Miller blinked.
"Huo? Zheng, that's a big leap from a no-name floater."
"Humor me," Julian said, already pulling up the public database for Sterling Dynamics.
Director Li's drunken boast about "Project Phoenix" and "optimizing human capital" replayed in his mind. Perfecting potential. Building better assets.
The chilling words echoed Elara's situation. This wasn't just a simple murder anymore.
He found a recent article, a minor piece from a local business blog, about Sterling Dynamics acquiring a defunct research facility on the city's outskirts.
The old building, once a biotech lab, was being repurposed for "cutting-edge human resource optimization." The article was light on details, but the accompanying stock photo of the dilapidated building had a faded sign above its entrance.
A stylized, abstract bird, rising from a geometric flame.
The same symbol.
The floater wasn't a random victim. He was connected. The keycard. The symbol.
Julian felt a cold, calculating certainty. This wasn't just a separate case. It was a ripple in the same dark pond Liang had been investigating. The one that connected Huo, Feng, and Liana Meng.
He leaned back in his chair, the glow of his monitor illuminating his face. Davies wanted him to stop chasing ghosts. But the ghosts, it seemed, were starting to find him. And this one, this lifeless man fished from the harbor, carried a very contemporary, very dangerous message. A message etched in the very symbol of Project Phoenix.
He knew what his next move had to be. He needed to find a way inside Sterling Dynamics. And he needed to do it without alerting anyone, especially Captain Davies, who was becoming increasingly wary of his unauthorized digging. This wasn't just a mission anymore. This was a direct confrontation with the unseen forces that controlled the city.