Lord Of The Stories

The guy didn't fit. That was the first thing Nathan noticed.

He watched from the rooftop across the tram line, crouched behind a rusted ventilation pipe. 

It had been two hours. Same routine. Same crowd. Everyone moved with purpose. Same clothes. Same faces.

Then this one stepped off the platform.

Clean jacket. Untagged coat. Shoes without scuffs. No implant blink on his wrist.

And the way he looked around like he didn't know where he was.

Nathan leaned forward slightly and narrowed his eyes.

Too calm to be local. Too alert to be drunk. Doesn't look scared… just lost.

The guy walked past a food cart, said something to the vendor.

She shut him down. Fast.

He didn't argue. Just nodded and kept moving.

Nathan scribbled in his notepad.

South tram entrance. No ID. Language barrier? Zero pushback.

He moved on to the next rooftop, silent steps across the steel beam, staying low in the fog. Twilight's rooftops were half maze, half junkyard, old antennas, cracked solar panels, abandoned drone mounts.

He knew every inch.

He knelt by another air vent and kept watching.

The man stopped at a mirror bolted to the wall. Cracked glass. Filthy frame. Everyone else ignored it. This one stared.

Nathan frowned.

Who actually looks in a mirror out here?

People avoided their own reflections in Twilight. There was nothing good to see.

This guy looked like he was checking if he still existed.

Nathan blinked that thought away.

Focus. No drama.

He zoomed in slightly.

No tattoos. No military ID tags. Hands are clean—no mechanic stains. Not a worker. Not a regular. No faction colors.

He adjusted his scope again and kept watching.

The guy turned a corner into a narrow alley.

Nathan moved again fast, quiet. Slipped over to a catwalk that gave him a view of the tram station's far side.

There he was. Sitting on a bench. Shoulders low. Hood up now.

Nathan watched the way his eyes scanned the crowd.

Looking, but not for anyone.

He was mouthing something. Quiet. Talking to himself.

Nathan focused in.

"I'm trying."

He frowned.

Trying what? To stay calm? Blend in?

He tapped a note down.

Possible trauma state. No visible equipment. No support contact. Not a runner. Not casing the area.

Nathan leaned back against the metal beam.

He'd seen three people like this in the last month.

One was found dead two blocks from here. Throat slit, no resistance, note left behind.

Another jumped off a balcony after muttering some garbage about rejecting "a script."

Now this one.

Different face. Same pattern.

He pulled out his communicator.

Quiet tap.

Trace request submitted.

A few seconds passed.

Ping.

NAME: LEO SAMUEL

ORIGIN: NULL

TRACKING HISTORY: NOT FOUND

STATUS: UNREGISTERED

FACTION: NONE

ABILITY: UNDECLARED

Nathan stared at the screen.

Not even a fake trail. What the fuck?

Most undocumented citizens had something… black market implants, borrowed IDs, travel blur. This guy had nothing. Like he walked in from a blank space.

Nathan snapped the device shut.

He kept his eyes on Leo Samuel, who was now standing again, moving with the crowd, hands deep in his pockets, trying not to be noticed.

Nathan followed from above.

Not because he had orders. Not because it was policy.

Because this one didn't make sense.

And the last time someone didn't make sense… it ended with a body.

Nathan stayed on the rooftops as Leo moved through Sector Nine's edge.

The crowd was thinning now. Most people avoided this far into Twilight after dark. Too many blind alleys. Too few Enforcer patrols.

Leo didn't know that.

He walked like he was hoping the streets would rearrange into something familiar.

Then he did something stupid.

He spoke.

Leo stepped toward a man leaning against a stack of old crates. The man looked half asleep, coat pulled tight, hood over his head, gloves on. Not suspicious at first glance.

"Excuse me," Leo said, voice low. "I'm… uh, sorry… can you tell me where I am?"

The man opened his eyes and answered in an unknown language.

Calm. Focused. Way too alert.

"Could you speak english.." Leo tried again. "Is this… part of Twilight?"

The man straightened. His stance was solid, like someone trained to hold their weight evenly. He looked Leo up and down once. Not fast. A full scan.

"Sector Nine," he said. "West ring."

His voice was smooth, clipped. Not like the locals.

Leo hesitated. "Okay. Do you… know where I could get a map? Or some kind of.. uh, orientation?"

The man's expression didn't change.

Then he reached into his coat and pulled out a folded piece of laminated paper.

"Take it," he said.

Leo blinked. "Really?"

The man handed it over. "You're not from here. That obvious."

"Yeah. Sorry, I… just kind of ended up here."

"Don't apologize."

Leo unfolded the map. It was clean. Precise. Sector names. Danger zones. Patrol checkpoints. This wasn't street trash.

"Thanks," Leo said.

He looked back up and noticed it.

The man was standing perfectly still. Too still.

And under the coat, where the fabric pulled slightly at the shoulders, there was weight, something stiff. Plate?

Leo's eyes flicked lower. The boots were polished. Military issue and reinforced with inner plating.

Not standard Twilight gear.

Best i stay out of it

"You're not from here either," Leo said before he could stop himself.

The man didn't smile.

"Go east. Stay out of the ring lanes."

"Wait, are you…"

The man turned and started walking away.

Leo watched him go.

From the rooftop, Nathan narrowed his eyes.

He recognized the walk. The posture. The coat.

Knight, Royal guard unit. From Daylight. No faction insignia, which meant special orders.

Why the hell is a knight watching the south rings of Twilight?

He pulled out his notebook.

Leo made contact with unaffiliated operative. Possible surveillance trap.

Knight made no attempt to detain or question.

He tapped his pen.

Which means he wasn't there for Leo.

Not specifically or Leo triggered something bigger.

Nathan backed away from the edge and pulled his collar higher.

Something was shifting under the surface.

And this time, it wasn't just Twilight.

Nathan watched the knight walk off, long strides cutting clean through the street like he owned it.

Typical Sunwalker.

No patrol. No insignia. But the gear gave him away, reinforced shoulders, regulated boots, and a stride that said he didn't answer to anyone down here.

Nathan didn't care for that attitude.

He left the rooftop and moved fast, dropping down the side ladder behind the vent stack. Boots hit metal. Then gravel. Then the ground.

He caught up two blocks down.

"Knight."

The man stopped but didn't turn. "Not in uniform."

"You don't need a crest to stand out."

The knight turned slowly, eye sharp under the hood. "Who are you?"

Nathan flashed his badge anyway. "Consulting Detective. Assigned to Reject Cases."

"That's not a real division."

"It is now."

The knight's hand twitched. Not on a weapon. Just annoyance.

Nathan didn't blink. "The man you just spoke to. He came in through Gate Seven with no signature. No background. No tags."

"Lots of people enter undocumented."

"This one entered null. System didn't even register breath rate. It stalled."

The knight narrowed his eyes.

Nathan stepped closer then lowered his voice.

"General Emerald authorized a trace. If you've been posted here on silent orders, then you already know the name."

A pause.

Then, quietly, "You're not supposed to know about Emerald's movements."

"I'm not supposed to know about a lot of things."

The knight looked away, jaw tight. "You want me to take him in?"

"I want you to bring him in alive.... Quietly."

"Why not Enforcers?"

"Because he's not from Twilight."

"He doesn't seem to be from Daylight either"

Nathan folded his arms. "He's yours now."

The knight looked down the street, calculating.

Then he nodded once, short and sharp.

"I'll find him."

He turned and disappeared into the crowd with speed that didn't match his armor.

Nathan stayed where he was, watching.

He didn't like knights.

They followed orders too well.

And if Leo Samuel was who Nathan suspected he might be… this story was about to turn a page.