Chapter 5 THE FIXER

ADRIAN POV

By morning, I had twelve credits left.

I counted them twice, just to be sure.

Yesterday, I was a Strategic Operations Director. Today, I was sitting on a cold floor wondering if twelve credits could buy breakfast. I almost laughed. 

My left shoulder ached when I stood. The wound from the escape had dried, but the pain was getting worse.

I needed food, medicine and somewhere safer than this storage room. More importantly, I needed money.

I slipped Marcus’s access card into my pocket and checked the Apex Core beneath my jacket. It was still there.

I pushed the door open and stepped outside.

Back in the upper region, cameras followed me everywhere. Here, nobody cared who I was.

I finally made it three streets into the crowded market and stopped at a woman selling fried pastries.

She looked at me, then at my empty hands. “Twenty.” She said immediately, her voice stern. 

I checked my pocket. “Anything for twelve?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Then you can admire them for free.”

I turned away shamefully. 

“Suit.”

I turned, expecting it to be the woman calling back for the pastries. 

Unfortunately, it was a man leaning against the wall beside a closed repair shop.

He looked ordinary at first glance. His worn  jacket and scratchy boots. None of that suggested wealth or authority. His eyes were the only thing that stood out, sharp, tracking my movement with quiet precision. 

“You need work?”  he asked, his tone carrying an unbothered confidence. 

I turned slightly, keeping my posture neutral. “Do I look that desperate?”

He glanced at my worn shoes. Then my torn jacket. Then straight at my face. 

“Yes,” he said simply. 

I looked down at myself, wondering between both of us who looked worst. 

“That’s unfortunate.” 

I sincerely wanted to tell him he looked the same but looking at my current state. No money, or job. I kept my cool. 

“Rook.” That was his name. 

“Just Rook?” I asked. 

“That’s usually enough, he replied, pushing himself away from the wall. “I have a delivery.”

I held my ground. “I don’t deliver things for…”

“Fifty credits,” he interrupted immediately. 

I paused, my heartbeat running faster. At least that was better than twelve. I cleared my throat, forcing my voice to sound casual despite the hunger. “I’m listening.”

Rook reached into his pocket and handed me a small metal token. “East Market. Stall twelve,” he instructed, his eyes fixed on mine. “Give them this. They’ll give you a case. Bring it back to me.”

I examined the heavy piece of metal in my hand. “What is it?”

He offered a faint, unbothered smile. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Because it’s a useful habit.” I said, my tone flat. 

“Not always down here,” he replied. He nodded toward the token. “Bring it before sunset.”

I turned the token over in my fingers, calculating the risk. 

“I’ll do it,” I said firmly. 

Rook’s smile returned. 

Stall twelve was easy to find but it was a more chaotic place. 

I handed the elderly woman who I met there  Rook’s token. She studied it before producing a small black case. 

“Rook sent you?” Her voice cracked.

“Yes.”

She smiled. “Then you know the rules.”

“Apparently I don’t.” 

I didn’t waste a minute and collected the case immediately without asking any questions. 

As I kept moving, I noticed three men followed me out of the market. The more I changed direction, the more they followed. 

“Leave the case,” one called.

I kept walking until the street narrowed. Then I kicked a loose pipe beneath the nearest man’s feet. He stumbled into another, giving me just enough time to slip between two buildings.

By the time they recovered, I was gone.

I stopped beneath a broken sign and checked the case. It was still there. 

“Fifty credits,” I muttered, my chest raising and falling as I leaned over the damp wall. “This better be worth it.”

“It is.” 

I  froze.

Rook stood behind me, at the end of the alley with his hand in his pocket. 

I turned around slowly, staring at him in complete disbelief. “You followed me?”

“I watched,” he corrected,  his expression relaxed. 

“You knew they were coming?”

He didn’t answer but simply stepped forward,  holding out his hand. “The case.”

I gave it to him without argument. 

He opened it, checking the contents inside. Resting on the foam interior, was a small black data chip. There was nothing else.

Rook closed the case with a snap. “I said fifty.”

“So pay me,” I said holding out my hand. 

He pulled out the credits paper and handed it over immediately. 

I took them, slipping them into my pocket. 

Rook glanced past my face meeting my left shoulder. “You’re bleeding. You should get that treated.”

“I’ll manage,” I said as I prepared to leave. 

“Come with me.” He pointed towards the repair shop towards him. 

“Why?” I paused. 

“Because I have more jobs for you,” he said sharply. 

I hesitated then followed him. Not because I trusted him but because I was running out of reasons not to.

Rook led me through the repair shop into a small room filled with tools and old machines.

“Sit,” he commanded. 

“I’m fine.” I lied, still holding my left shoulder. 

“But you’re bleeding.”

With no other option, I sat.

He worked quietly, cleaning and wrapping the wound without asking unnecessary questions about why I got injured. 

“You’re not from here,” he said eventually.

“No.” I replied. 

“Hmmm.. I thought as much. Just be careful here. It’s a dangerous part of this city.” 

I said nothing. Rook didn’t push, instead he leaned over his chair folding his hands after bandaging my injury. 

“So about the job?” I said, raising my head, looking at him.

“Tomorrow. At Base camp,” his voice lowered. I need someone who can think.”

“That’s the job?”

“For you, maybe.”

He handed me a worn access card. “Eight in the morning.”

I took the card, feeling it rough edge. “I’ll consider it.”

“You don’t have any options. We both know you need this job.” 

I hated that he was right.

My eyes moved around the room. Looking at the different equipment in his room.

“What do you actually do?” I asked, leaning back against the chair. 

Rook offered a faint, amused smile. “A little of everything,” he said.

“That usually means something illegal.”

He laughed. To my surprise, I did too and that was awkward. 

“Adrian.”

Rook looked at me. “You never told me your last name.”

I hesitated for a long second, my mind racing through different options. 

“Kane.”

Something changed in his expression. He turned toward the old monitor beside his workbench and switched it on.

My face appeared on the screen.

ADRIAN KANE: PRIME SUSPECT IN PROJECT APEX SABOTAGE.

WANTED FOR QUESTIONING.

Rook looked at the screen. Then he looked back at me.

Silence settled over the room. 

Without taking his eyes off me, he switched off the monitor.

“Tomorrow just became complicated,” he said slowly. 

“Why?” I asked. 

Rook looked at me for a long moment, a smile touching his lips. “Because I recognized you before you told me your name.”