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Chapter 1: Wires and Whispers
Eddie stepped off the skiff with practiced ease, his polished shoes tapping against the slick stone of the jetty. The rain was relentless, a dull mist that made the world feel both closer and farther away. Royce's estate loomed ahead, a hulking silhouette against the gray sky, its iron gates rising like twisted fingers out of the water. The mansion, as grand as it was decaying, stood a few feet above the floodwaters, the murky depths reflecting its crumbling majesty. He didn't mind the rain—he was used to it. But more importantly, he was used to looking good in it.
The city had a way of doing that to you. If you didn't keep up appearances, you weren't going anywhere. It wasn't just about looks, but a form of survival—a way to make people think you had it together, even if you didn't. And Eddie always had it together.
His suit was a dark charcoal gray, tailored to fit the narrow width of his frame, crisp and sharp in all the right places. The fabric was breathable, high-end tech that kept him cool despite the humidity and the wet streets. His shirt, white with faint metallic threads running through it, caught the light just enough to make it look like he didn't belong in the dilapidated neighborhood he was walking through. Even his tie, a subtle navy blue, seemed out of place in a city where most people wore whatever they could salvage. But that was the point, wasn't it? To look like you weren't part of this dying world, even if you were.
Eddie adjusted his cufflinks as he approached the door. Stainless steel, understated but expensive. He didn't usually do jobs like this—not unless the pay was right, or the client demanded it. And this one? This one was exactly that.
He rang the bell, his gloved hand brushing against the surface. It felt a little too formal for a place like this, but no one told Eddie what to wear. The door opened with a soft hiss, revealing the butler—a gaunt figure who barely looked up.
"Mr. Lawson," the butler said, his voice mechanical, as if it was more a courtesy than anything.
"Here for the job," Eddie replied, giving him a courteous nod. His voice, smooth and even, carried the weight of someone who was used to being listened to.
The butler didn't bother with pleasantries, just stepped aside to let Eddie enter, guiding him through the darkened foyer. There was a faint smell of damp wood and something more luxurious—like old leather, or aged whiskey. The kind of air that made Eddie feel like he was stepping into a different era, or at least a different class. Royce's place, despite its fading grandeur, still reeked of power.
The hallway was lined with statues, odd pieces of ancient tech from a time before the flood. Eddie was half-tempted to stop and take a closer look, but the man who had hired him—Royce—wasn't the type to enjoy small talk.
At the end of the hall, Royce appeared, standing in front of a set of heavy, wooden doors. He was the kind of man who didn't need to raise his voice to command a room. Tall, with sharp features and a posture that screamed wealth even more than his clothes. His suit was a shade darker than Eddie's, and it looked freshly pressed, as if he'd just stepped out of a magazine spread. His eyes, cold and calculating, barely flicked over Eddie before he spoke.
"Mr. Lawson," Royce greeted, his voice clipped. "Glad you could make it."
"Not a problem," Eddie replied smoothly, offering a professional smile. "I take it this is important?"
Royce's lips twitched, as though the idea of something so trivial as ‘importance' didn't sit well with him.
He gestured toward the door behind him. "In here."
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