Steve sat hunched over his laptop, the glow of the monitors the only light in his cramped apartment. Outside, the city was alive with the hum of distant traffic, but in here, the silence was thick, broken only by the soft click of keys and the occasional whirr of the computer's fan. The night was dragging on, but Steve was deep in his work—searching, tracking, and piecing together fragments of a puzzle no one else seemed to care about.

His alias, Gh0stBytE, was whispered in the darkest corners of the web, but in the physical world, Steve was invisible. He had earned his reputation not just by slipping into systems unnoticed but by dismantling some of the darkest, most corrupt networks in existence. Steve's technical skills went far beyond standard hacking—he was a master at building complex algorithms, programs, and systems designed to expose and disrupt the powerful who preyed on the vulnerable. He had crafted tools that took down drug cartels, crippling their financial networks, and exposed human trafficking rings, ensuring those responsible were brought to justice. Steve's work wasn't just about pulling data—it was about saving lives.

In his own way, Steve sought to bring closure and relief to the families shattered by these crimes. Whenever he uncovered illicit funds—money hoarded by drug cartels, traffickers, or corrupt corporations—he quietly wired the recovered sums back to the families of the victims. Along with the funds, Steve set up college savings accounts for the children in those families, ensuring their future education would be secured, regardless of their current circumstances. It was his way of giving those children a chance at a better life, free from the shadows of the horrors their families had endured.

The funds were sent anonymously, through untraceable digital channels, to those who had been harmed the most by these tragedies. It was his small way of helping them rebuild what they had lost.

Through his code, Steve had siphoned off millions from black market accounts, redirecting the funds to grassroots organizations that provided shelter, food, and legal help to the oppressed. His work wasn't for fame or fortune—it was a mission. Every line of code, every breach, was his way of leveling the playing field for those who had no voice.

Yet, with each success, the shadow of S.H.I.F.T. loomed closer. Steve had evaded their grasp for years, but tonight, he could feel the weight of their presence growing, like a predator that had finally cornered its prey.

As Steve leaned closer to the screen, a sudden alert flashed across the monitor. His eyes narrowed. This wasn't just another dead end—it was a live signal, a trace. Someone had triggered a hidden protocol, embedded deep within the core of the system he was navigating. The interface flickered, then froze, before a stark message blinked into existence on his screen:

S.H.I.F.T PROTOCOL INITIATED. GH0STBYTE TERMINATION ACTIVATED. ELIMINATION IMMINENT.

Steve's heart pounded as the words flashed across his screen. His fingers flew across the keyboard, desperately trying to divert the protocol, but it was too late. A shadow crept over the display, and suddenly, the screen was engulfed in digital smoke. As Steve stared in horror, a glowing skull materialized amidst the smoky haze, its hollow eyes staring into him, cracks running through its structure as if the very fabric of the digital world was crumbling.

The skull grinned at him, its crimson glow intensifying as thin tendrils of actual smoke began to rise from the laptop's vents, mirroring the digital destruction on screen. The smell of burning plastic reached Steve's nose. His heart raced even faster as the eerie image seemed to come alive, reminding him of the imminent danger.

Suddenly, the laptop exploded with a loud crack. Steve threw his arms over his face in a split-second reflex, shielding himself from the worst of the blast. Had he not done so, he might have been blinded—or worse. Instead, fragments of metal and plastic tore into his forearms, and a hot shard embedded itself deep into his left shoulder, searing his skin.

Gasping for air, Steve pushed himself upright. The room was already filled with thick, acrid smoke, and small fires had ignited in several spots. Ignoring the pain, he grabbed a blanket and began swatting at the flames, extinguishing the small fires one by one until the fire was under control.

His injuries were serious, especially his shoulder, but there was no time for proper care. Using what little he had on hand, Steve patched himself up in the quickest way possible. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to hold.

Breathing heavily, he grabbed his phone and quickly opened the encrypted messenger.

Compromised! Meet me at the underpass. ASAP!

He hit send and pocketed the phone, knowing there was no time to waste. Grabbing his go-bag, Steve darted for the fire escape, the pain in his shoulder flaring with every step.

The cool night air hit his face as he descended the fire escape. He needed to reach the underpass, needed to make sure Al3x was safe. But with every step, his thoughts turned back to her—not just as a partner, but as something more.

Al3x was unlike anyone he had ever known. Her brilliance, her determination—it was what had drawn him to her in the first place. But over time, that respect had deepened into something far more dangerous. Steve had fallen in love with her, hopelessly and completely.

He had tried to deny it, tried to push those feelings aside. But the truth was, Al3x had become more than just an ally. She was his equal, if not his superior, and that only made him fall harder. Her intellect was staggering, her ability to see through the chaos unmatched. Every plan, every move they made together, Steve knew she was one step ahead.

But there was more to it than just admiration. In the quiet moments, when they weren't fighting against S.H.I.F.T., there was something unspoken between them. He saw it in the way she looked at him, the way her defenses lowered for just a fraction of a second when they were alone.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on it. S.H.I.F.T. was closing in, and they didn't have the luxury of exploring what lay between them. He had to protect her, had to make sure she was safe.

Steve's phone buzzed again as he neared the underpass, his heart skipping a beat.

On my way. Be careful.

He exhaled in relief. She was safe, for now. But the danger was far from over.

He ducked under the shadows of the overpass, his eyes scanning the darkness as he leaned against the cold concrete, clutching his injured shoulder. The pain was unrelenting, but Steve's focus was on the alley ahead, waiting for Al3x's familiar silhouette to emerge.

And when she did, his heart raced—not from the danger, but from the thought of seeing her again.

She approached quickly, her sharp eyes scanning his figure, taking in his battered form. The dim light from the distant streetlamp cast shadows across her face, but even in the gloom, Steve could see the concern in her eyes.

"You look like you've been through a war," Al3x said, her voice low but firm as she stopped a few feet in front of him. Her eyes flicked to the makeshift patch on his shoulder. "What happened?"

Steve managed a weak smile, though the pain flared with each breath. "Thermal Cascade. They hit me with the virus. My laptop—" He gestured toward his shoulder, wincing. "Let's just say I'm a little worse for wear."

Al3x's brow furrowed, and she stepped closer, gently placing her hand on his uninjured arm. Her touch was firm, grounding him even through the pain. "S.H.I.F.T.?"

Steve nodded. "They're onto me. The virus was their way of sending a message—total elimination. They traced my trail, hit me harder than I expected." His voice tightened with frustration. "I barely made it out of the apartment."

Al3x looked him up and down again, her lips pressed into a thin line. "You're lucky to still be standing. But we've got to be smarter now. If S.H.I.F.T. knows where you are, they'll come after you again."

Steve leaned his head back against the concrete, exhaustion creeping into his bones. "What do you think we should do?"

Al3x's eyes narrowed as she considered their options, the gears in her mind clearly turning at full speed. "We need to lie low for a while, disappear off their radar. They think they've eliminated you, and that's the advantage we can use."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "You're saying we should let them think I'm ghosted?"

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Exactly. If they believe they've taken you out, it gives us room to move. We strike from the shadows, hit them where they least expect it. They'll never see it coming."

Steve couldn't help but admire the way her mind worked. Her strategic brilliance was why he trusted her more than anyone. "That's... risky. If they get even a hint that I'm still alive—"

"They won't," Al3x cut in, her voice calm but resolute. "We stay quiet, plan carefully, and make sure every move is calculated. The more we stay hidden, the more dangerous we become. You being 'ghosted' plays into our hands. It's our chance to strike back without them realizing."

Steve pushed himself off the wall, biting back the pain that flared in his shoulder. He looked into her eyes, seeing the confidence and resolve that had always drawn him to her. "You're right," he said, nodding. "We make them think I'm out of the game, then we hit them hard when they least expect it."

Al3x gave a small nod of approval, her sharp gaze meeting his. "Good. But first, we need to make sure you're patched up properly. That duct tape's not going to hold forever."

Steve let out a short, humorless chuckle. "It's the best I could manage with what I had."

Al3x reached into her bag and pulled out a small medical kit. "Let me take care of it. You need to be in better shape if we're going to survive this."

As she worked on his wound, Steve couldn't help but think about how much he relied on her—not just for her tactical mind, but for the strength she gave him. She wasn't just his partner in The Circuit; she was the one who kept him grounded, the one who made him feel like he could keep going, even when the odds were stacked against them.

Her hands were gentle but efficient as she cleaned the wound and replaced the crude patch with proper bandages. The pain was still there, but the throbbing had eased somewhat. Steve watched her, his mind racing with thoughts of what lay ahead. They were walking into a dangerous game, but with Al3x by his side, he felt like they had a fighting chance.

When she finished, she stood up, meeting his eyes once more. "We're going to get through this," she said, her voice steady. "But we need to be smart. S.H.I.F.T. is powerful, but they're not invincible."

Steve nodded, feeling a sense of determination well up inside him. "We'll make sure they know that."