Chapter 2B: Set a Trap for the Tracer

The cursor blinks on your screen, daring you to act. The words “WARNING: YOU ARE BEING WATCHED” hang there, heavy with urgency. Most people in your position would bolt—grab their gear, melt into the shadows of the lower districts, and hope for the best. But you're not most people. Running won't give you the answers you need.

You lean back in your chair, your mind racing. K.O.'s message came out of nowhere, delivered through layers of encryption that should have been impossible to penetrate. Whoever—or whatever—was tracing you now wasn't just watching; they wanted you. Badly.

Your hands hover over the keys as a plan forms. If they want to find you, fine. Let them try. You'll find them first.

The air feels electric as you start typing. Commands stream across your terminal, initiating layers of decoy scripts and false signals designed to stall the trace. You open a diagnostic window, your rig's processor whining as you deploy every ounce of its aging power.

The trace pings again, faster now. They've broken through your outer firewall, slicing through your defences like a scalpel through wet paper. Whoever's on the other end is good—better than you've faced in years.

But you've been in the game long enough to know that skill alone isn't enough. Patience, misdirection, and sheer audacity have won you battles before, and they'll win you this one too.

Your screen splits into quadrants as you run simultaneous protocols. One quadrant spools out a digital honeypot—an enticing, false copy of your system filled with dummy data designed to look real. If the tracer bites, they'll be trapped in a virtual labyrinth. Another quadrant works on isolating their signal, triangulating its source.

Your hands move instinctively, years of muscle memory guiding you as your heart races. A soft chime pulls your attention to the upper-right quadrant of the screen:

They've taken the bait.

Now comes the hard part. You open a secure monitoring feed, watching the intruder's movements within the honeypot. At first, it's almost impressive how quickly they navigate your maze of fake systems. They're not just skimming the surface—they're probing deeply, searching for something specific.

You zoom in on their digital signature, your rig's processor straining as it compiles the raw data. The signature is heavily encrypted, shrouded in multiple layers of corporate-grade protection.

Your stomach sinks. Nexus-tier. That means Aperture Dynamics.

The realization sends a chill down your spine. Aperture Dynamics doesn't play games. If they're tracing you, it's because they think you're a threat—or they want something you have. You don't know which is worse.

Just as you begin breaking down the signature, your terminal freezes. Lines of static ripple across the screen, and your audio system crackles to life. A distorted voice speaks, low and mechanical:

“Curiosity is dangerous, Alex.”

The voice cuts out, leaving you staring at your own reflection in the dark screen. Whoever sent the message knows your name.

The terminal unfreezes a second later, your rig's defenses spinning back up as if nothing happened. But the atmosphere has changed.

You focus, shaking off the unease. If they're trying to scare you, it means youre close to something they don't want you to find. You dig deeper into the signal, peeling back layers of encryption until, finally, a breakthrough:

You quickly pull up a map of the city, overlaying the location. Sector 7C is a corporate-dominated zone, home to Aperture Dynamics' main R&D hub. The fact that the trace originated there is no coincidence.

Your rig pings again—a new notification, this one sent directly to your terminal:

You hesitate for a moment before opening it. It's text only, unsigned:

The screen glitches, the message vanishing as quickly as it appeared. The timing is too perfect. Was it K.O.? Or someone else?

The static clears, leaving you in silence. The rain continues to batter the windows, and the neon light feels harsher now, almost invasive. Your rig's fans whine as it cools down, the counter-hack complete. You've stopped the immediate threat, but whoever's after you knows you're not an easy target.

The coordinates linger in your mind, a beacon calling you into the unknown. But now there's another layer to the mystery—Sector 7C. If Aperture Dynamics is involved, going there could answer some of your questions. It could also get you killed.