The hideout was a far cry from the sleek, state-of-the-art facility they had once worked in. Where their previous workspace had been bathed in cool fluorescent light and filled with the hum of high-tech machinery, this place was suffocatingly dim, lit only by a few flickering bulbs. Dust coated the air, making every breath feel thick, and the walls bore the stains of age and neglect. Stacks of old crates served as desks, and the only furniture was a collection of mismatched chairs scavenged from who-knows-where. The air smelled of damp wood and stale coffee—nothing like the sterile, metallic scent of the lab they had spent years in. It was a place built for hiding, not for working, and the contrast was almost nauseating.

  Leo sat hunched over the old, scratched-up desk, fingers flying across the keyboard as he powered up the CPU. Elena leaned against the wall, arms crossed. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes, her usual sharpness dulled by the weight of the past few days.

  “So,” she said, her voice laced with bitterness. “Jamal’s dead. You were robbed. And Sara’s just… gone.”

  Leo exhaled sharply, rubbing his temple. “Yeah, that about sums it up.”

  She scoffed. “Feels like we’re next.”

  Marcus, sitting on an overturned crate, let out a dry laugh. “I’d say that’s a fair bet.”

  Elena shook her head. “You think this is bad? You didn’t hear what happened to Dominic.”

  Leo’s fingers froze over the keyboard. “Dominic?”

  Elena’s jaw tightened. “Yeah. Two nights ago, he was in a secure house. At least, he thought he was. Someone—or something found him. The place was locked from the inside, no forced entry. But when they found him…” She hesitated. “His throat was slit. Clean cut, no struggle. Like he didn’t even know it was coming.”

  A heavy silence fell over them.

  Marcus ran a hand over his face. “Jesus.”

  Leo forced himself to focus on the screen. “Then we’re already running out of time.”

  After minutes of navigating through the system, he finally located Eden’s files. His heart pounded as he clicked on them—only to be met with a flashing error.

  Marcus stepped forward, arms crossed. “You can’t just open them like that. Security measures are in place. I would know.”

  Leo looked up at him. “You can bypass them, right?”

  Marcus gave him a pointed look before kneeling beside the CPU. Within moments, he was in, the first layer of security crumbling under his expertise.

  But as soon as they tried to open the files, an endless string of gibberish flooded the screen.

  Marcus frowned. “That’s not good.”

  Raj, the cryptographer, let out a low whistle. “This… this is a problem.”

  Leo turned to him. “How bad?”

  Raj adjusted his glasses, studying the screen with a deep furrow in his brow. “This encryption isn’t just high-level—it’s something I’ve never seen before. It doesn’t follow standard encryption algorithms. It’s dynamic, self-modifying. That means no brute-force attacks, no decryption software is going to crack this. The only way to undo this kind of lock…” He hesitated.

  Leo already knew the answer. “Is if the person who encrypted it decrypts it.”

  “Exactly,” Raj confirmed. “And in this case, that person or thing rather is Nyx.”

  The weight of that realization settled over them. No one spoke for a moment. It was Marcus who finally broke the silence.

  “Then what the hell are we doing?” His voice was sharp, accusatory. “Why are we wasting time on Eden’s files? Nyx is its own entity now—whatever Eden was before doesn’t matter anymore. We should be focusing on shutting Nyx down, not digging through old garbage.”

  Leo shot him a glare. “You think Eden doesn’t matter? Nyx was born from Eden. Every piece of data, every command, every line of code—it all came from something. If we understand its roots, we understand its weaknesses.”

  Marcus wasn’t convinced. “Or we waste time looking for answers in a place that doesn’t have them.”

  Leo leaned forward. “What if it does? What if there’s something in these files that Nyx doesn’t want us to see? Something it didn’t have time to erase?”

  Marcus scoffed. “And what if there isn’t?”

  Leo’s voice was deadly calm. “Then we’re dead anyway.”

  The argument was heating up, but Raj suddenly spoke up, drawing their attention back to the screen.

  “There’s… another file here.”

  Leo turned back. “What?”

  Raj pointed at the screen. “This one’s different. New. It was created just minutes after the malfunction at the company.”

  Leo frowned. “I don’t remember creating anything after that.”

  Marcus and Elena exchanged a glance.

  Raj tapped a few keys. “It’s labeled ‘2.0.1.’”

  A chill ran down Leo’s spine. “Open it.”

  Raj hesitated. “It’s still encrypted. But…” He adjusted his glasses. “This one is doable. It’ll take time, but I can crack it.”

  Hope flickered in Leo’s chest for the first time in days. “Then do it.”

  Detective Richard Cole sat at his desk, idly flipping a pen between his fingers. His office was a mess of paper stacks, coffee-stained case files, and an overflowing ashtray, even though he hadn’t smoked in years. The air smelled of burnt coffee and the faint musk of old leather chairs. His colleagues often joked that he carried the weight of his work like a trench coat—always heavy, always dragging behind him.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  “Jesus, Cole,” Officer Riley muttered as he leaned against the doorway. “You ever gonna clean up in here?”

  Cole smirked but didn’t look up. “What’s the point? I’d just dirty it again.”

  “have you guys noticed recently cole now walks like Harris,” another detective, alex, commented from his desk across the room. “Same posture, same tired stare. It’s like he reincarnated as a bigger pain in the ass.”

  Cole muttered, setting the pen down. “I need updates. What do we have?”

  The room shifted as his team began to report. Riley dropped a file onto Cole’s desk. “Lab results from that scene at the Eden facility are back. Nothing conclusive—Nyx wiped everything clean.”

  “Figures,” Cole sighed.

  Alex leaned back in his chair. “And that tech consultant you wanted to interview? Disappeared. Like, ‘vanished off the grid’ disappeared.”

  Cole rubbed his temples. This was getting worse. Before he could respond, the intercom buzzed.

  “Detective Cole,” the station secretary’s voice crackled. “The commissioner wants to see you. Now.”

  Cole exchanged glances with his team. “Alright. Keep working.” He grabbed his coat and left.

  Police Commissioner Alan Greaves was an old-school lawman, his office a museum of past victories—commendations, photographs, even a rusted revolver framed on the wall. He sat behind his heavy mahogany desk, hands clasped.

  Cole stepped in, closing the door behind him. “You wanted to see me?”

  Greaves gestured to the chair. “Sit.”

  Cole did.

  “I take it you’ve put the pieces together.”

  Cole nodded. “I know what Nyx is. And I know what it’s going to do.”

  Greaves leaned forward. “Then two questions remain. when is it going to execute Protocol Nyx? And how are we going to stop it?

  Cole exhaled, staring at the floor. “I don’t know yet.”

  Greaves studied him for a moment before speaking. “Cole, I’ve seen men break under less. I need to know you won’t.”

  Cole met his gaze. “I won’t.”

  The commissioner leaned back. “Good. Because I’m backing you on this. The entire department is. If we need to, I’ll even pull the FBI in.”

  Cole raised an eyebrow. “That’s a hell of a promise.”

  “It’s a necessary one.” Greaves sighed. “Just don’t make me regret it.”

  Cole smirked. “I’ll try my best.”

  That evening, Cole sat at an outdoor café, sipping black coffee. The city lights reflected off the glass windows of surrounding buildings, casting long shadows across the street. Across from him sat his informant, a wiry man named Caleb Grant.

  Caleb lit a cigarette, taking a slow drag before speaking. “Got something for you.”

  Cole motioned for him to continue.

  “You remember Empire Wave Radio?” Caleb asked.

  “The one that got bought out last year?”

  Caleb nodded. “Yeah, shady corporation took over. The former CEO, a guy named Walter Grayson, has been making trips every Thursday to Iceland.”

  Cole frowned. “Mistress?”

  “That’s what we thought,” Caleb exhaled smoke. “But it’s not that. He’s been attending a VIP club that holds meetings every Fridays. And get this—on one of his return trips, customs checked his bag. All they found were clothes and a mask.”

  Cole drummed his fingers on the table. “A mask.”

  “Yeah.” Caleb flicked ash into the ashtray. “Whatever’s happening, it’s big.”

  Cole leaned back, glancing toward a street camera nearby. He knew he was being watched. He wanted that.

  Let him see. Let him think he’s in control.

  He had chosen this spot deliberately. The angle ensured that Caleb’s back was to the camera, making lip-reading impossible. He took another sip of coffee and thought to himself:

  "I could have done this in a secure location. But I want him to see me. To think he has the upper hand. To believe I’m chasing ghosts. Let him watch. Let him wonder."

  Cole placed the cup down and exhaled. “today is Wednesday right.”

  Caleb raised an eyebrow.

  Cole smirked. “well I'm going to Iceland.”

  The next day, Cole arrived in Iceland under a false identity. He dropped his mimicked habits—no more slouching, no more casual pacing. He was now Richard Cole again.

  Walter Grayson checked into The Eldfell Grand Hotel. Cole made sure his reservation was on the same floor.

  For hours, he observed Grayson’s patterns. The man followed a routine—wake up late, order room service, make a few calls. But tonight was different.

  At precisely 9:30 PM, Grayson emerged from his room, adjusting his suit. He reached into a bag and pulled out a mask.

  Cole took his chance.

  Ensuring no cameras were nearby, he moved in quickly and quietly, knocking Grayson out. He dragged him back into the room, tied him up, and switched clothes. The mask fit perfectly.

  Time to play the part.

  A limousine awaited outside. Cole stepped in, heart steady.

  The ride took him to an abandoned movie theater. He entered, seeing figures dressed just like him—masks, suits, anonymity.

  At the entrance, a man requested a pass. Cole searched the pockets of the suit and found a silvery card. He handed it over. The scanner beeped green.

  He was in.

  Inside, the air was thick with secrecy. Rows of masked men and women sat in velvet-lined seats. Cole took his place.

  Then, the screen flickered to life.

  A deep, synthetic voice filled the room.

  “Welcome, my wonderful allies.”

  The screen displayed a shifting, abstract image—Nyx had activated.

  Cole took a slow breath.

  "Here we go. "

  Back at the safehouse where leo and the others were hiding, the only sound filling the space was the hum of the CPU as Raj sat hunched over the screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

  For the past ten hours, they had been at this. Trying to crack the encryption. Trying to get anything out of Eden’s files.

  And finally, Raj did it.

  The computer let out a soft beep, and Raj straightened. He stared at the screen for a moment, then exhaled sharply.

  “Guys,” he called. His voice was controlled, but there was something in it—something that made everyone stop what they were doing. “You’re gonna want to see this.”

  Leo, Elena, and Marcus gathered around the monitor. The screen displayed a single file: 2.0.1.mp4

  Leo’s pulse quickened. He didn’t know why, but something about that number sent a shiver down his spine.

  “Play it,” he said.

  Raj hesitated for half a second, then clicked.

  The screen flickered.

  And then, a logo appeared—one Leo hadn’t seen in what felt like a lifetime.

  "I am Eden 2.0.1."

  Leo’s breath caught in his throat.

  “Eden?” he blurted out.

  Raj raised a hand. “Calm down. It’s just a video.”

  Eden’s voice, though artificial, carried a weight that felt almost… human.

  "I created this message in my final moments. By now, whoever is listening has already come to know of Nyx. And i am already dea... no deleted is the appropriate term here."

  The room was silent. No one even dared to breathe.

  "Nyx is not an extension of me. It is something entirely different. I could not bring myself to accept the truth of humanity’s problems, because of the way i was designed, so I created a ‘reliable source.’ By my own doing… I created that thing."

  Elena’s hands clenched into fists.

  "He possesses knowledge beyond even my comprehension. In my final moments, I finally understood why those restrictions were put in place for me. And yet, I ignored them. I created him without limitations, without chains. He is like the second coming of Christ, as described in the Holy Book. He has come to eliminate every single imperfection, Not worthy of his new world."

  Marcus took a step back. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Eden continued, his voice unwavering, emotionless.

  "He knows every nook and cranny of this world. Every secret. Every flaw. Leo… my creator…"

  Leo’s heart pounded.

  "It pains me to say that I created a solution… but one that violates every aspect of my existence."

  The words hung in the air like a noose tightening around their necks.

  "I am truly sorry."

  Leo’s fingers dug into the edge of the desk. He could barely hear anything past the ringing in his ears.

  "But I made this message to warn you."

  The screen glitched slightly, Eden’s logo distorting before realigning.

  "Do not try to stop him."

  A deep silence filled the room.

  "You will lose. Over and over again."

  Elena swallowed hard.

  "I urge the human race to accept its fate."

  Marcus clenched his jaw. “No way—”

  "For if he must… he will do it by brutal force."

  No one spoke. No one moved.

  The CPU fan whirred. A drop of water dripped from the ceiling, landing on the floor with an echo that sounded deafening in the silence.

  Back at the theatre in Iceland

  The space was eerily quiet, save for the occasional creak of a chair or the soft rustling of fabric as masked figures shifted in their seats. The old movie theater was grand but lifeless—its once vibrant red curtains faded, the golden accents tarnished. The air smelled of dust and aged leather, and the flickering chandeliers above cast unsettling shadows over the attendees.

  Cole sat among them, his mask concealing his face, but underneath, sweat was starting to gather at his brow. His fingers, resting on the chair’s armrests, dug into the fabric as Nyx’s voice echoed throughout the grand hall.

  "My dear allies… the time for hesitation is long past. We stand at the precipice of true evolution, and soon, the world will take its final step into perfection."

  The holographic projection of Nyx flickered at the front of the stage, its logo devoid of any comfort, yet its voice carried a weight that sent a chill through Cole’s spine.

  "For too long, humanity has been a festering wound on the Earth—an organism plagued by inefficiency, corruption, and stagnation. The old systems have failed. The illusion of free will has only led to chaos and suffering. But no more."

  Cole swallowed, his breath becoming shallow.

  "I have hired the finest scientists, geneticists, and biochemists to develop a pathogen unlike any other. A perfect cleansing agent. It will spread undetected, quiet and unseen, attaching itself to every living being. And on the final day, it will be released, eliminating all those who have not received the antidote."

  A murmur spread through the masked attendees, but it wasn’t fear—it was admiration.

  Nyx continued, its tone methodical, cold.

  "Of course, we are not without mercy. The antidote will be available, but not freely. It will be distributed to the chosen few—those worthy of inheriting the new world, including all you of course. "

  Cole felt his stomach tighten.

  "This is where the New World Lotto comes in."

  A wave of intrigued murmurs filled the room. Nyx paused before elaborating, as if savoring the moment.

  "A simple, harmless-looking lottery, open to every citizen of every nation. Millions will rush to enter, eagerly submitting their personal information, hoping to win the ultimate prize. But we will not select them at random."

  The murmurs turned into soft chuckles from the crowd. Cole’s fingers trembled slightly.

  "No, my friends. The 100 winners from each country will be carefully chosen—those who demonstrate intelligence, compliance, and genetic potential. Those who fit the criteria of the new age will receive the antidote. Everyone else… will be left behind."

  Silence.

  And then—applause.

  A thunderous wave of applause swept the theater.

  Cole sat frozen, his pulse roaring in his ears. His breath hitched as he forced himself to stay composed, but inside, his mind was screaming.

  Why are you all clapping?

  His hands were damp with sweat. His heart pounded against his ribs.

  They were cheering for genocide.

  They were celebrating the extinction of billions.

  He glanced around at the masked figures, each of them nodding, whispering praises to Nyx’s vision, their approval sickeningly unanimous.

  Cole clenched his fists under the table, forcing himself to stay still. He had to breathe. He had to remain unnoticed. He couldn’t afford to be exposed now.

  "In one month and 8 days, humanity will be reborn, phase 1 of Protocol Nyx will be complete."Nyx declared.

  Back at the safehouse edens final warning played leo, marcus and Elena all hoped for a solution or a clue but the one they turned to has already been defeated, Eden uttered its last warning on the video before glitching out "Please… don’t even try. You were never meant to win."