Earth, 2018.
New York City, United States.
An Audi cruised down the highway, then turned right at an intersection, slipping onto a narrow dirt road surrounded by dense trees. It kept going for over ten minutes until it stopped in front of a modest wooden cabin.
The car door opened. A pair of black heels stepped out, followed by a stunning woman with long black hair, warm brown eyes, and sleek-framed glasses. She wore a white blouse tucked into black slacks, her steps confident yet graceful.
She approached the cabin just as its door opened from within, revealing a man in his mid-thirties with slicked-back black hair and sharp olive-green eyes. He wore a plain sweater, jeans, and rugged boots. Despite nearing forty, he had a strong, handsome presence—striking, in a quiet sort of way.
"Linda. Good to see you. Come in," the man said, giving a brief smile before stepping aside and heading back inside.
Linda sighed, following him to the kitchen, where two plates of food had already been set.
"Your face says otherwise, Lucien. You look like I'm the last person you wanted to see."
"You're not wrong," he said with a dry smirk. "So? What brings you all the way out here?"
"I wanted to see you. I heard Lya turned eleven last month. How is she doing?"
Linda watched him exhale deeply at the mention of the girl. She raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight in that breath.
"She's doing well. She's grown so much—smart, thoughtful... a little flower," he said softly, smiling at the thought.
Linda nodded, then pulled a folder from her bag and set it on the table.
"I want to ask you for something. It's about Ali Moussambani, a terrorist leader operati—"
"No."
The word left Lucien's lips before she could finish.
"What?" she asked, confused.
Lucien didn't answer immediately. He finished pouring his coffee, then took a seat at the table. Seeing Linda still standing, he gestured toward the chair across from him.
"Please."
Still puzzled, she sat and waited in silence.
"I'm done with that, Linda," he said quietly. "I'm tired. I just... I just want to enjoy this peace I've found here, in these woods."
His words were heavy. His tone, drained. And Linda—perhaps more than anyone—knew what he had lost. What he had walked away from. She could only look at him with sadness in her eyes.
"Yeah... It took me a while to track you down out here," she said, scanning the quiet cabin. "Far from prying eyes. Beautiful place, too."
"Thanks," Lucien murmured, placing his coffee cup aside.
"So... this is really it, then?" she asked, focusing her gaze on him once again.
"It's been 'it' since the day I left. A year ago."
Linda sighed and rose from the table, walking toward the front door.
"Well then... I hope you enjoy your retirement," she said as she opened it. "Just remember, even off duty, you still have to see your therapist tomorrow at nine."
"Yeah, yeah, I know."
"It was an honor serving with you," she said, stepping closer to hug him.
"You're like a brother to me, Lucien. If you ever need anything—just call. I'll find a way to help you."
He gave her a faint smile, nodding. "You take care. And if anything happens... you know what to do."
That earned her another smile. She stepped back, brushing away a tear before turning around.
Soon, her car disappeared between the trees. Lucien stood at the window for a while, watching until the silence returned. Then he went back inside.
He walked into the living room and sat on the couch. His eyes landed on a small framed photo resting on a nearby shelf. A girl—eleven years old, fair-skinned, with black hair like his and deep blue eyes like her mother's. She was adorable.
Next to the photo sat something odd: a black ring, resting quietly on the shelf. Lucien frowned.
He hadn't bought it. No one had given it to him. He had never seen it before.
Slowly, he reached for the pistol holstered at his waist and began checking every corner of the cabin. It wasn't large, so in a few minutes, he had cleared the place. No signs of forced entry. No footprints. Nothing.
"Linda didn't do this... I watched her the whole time. And the alarms never went off," he thought, staring at the ring.
It was beautifully crafted, dark as obsidian, yet with a soft, almost hypnotic glow. It seemed to absorb light, and yet shimmered subtly, as if it held some kind of internal energy. It was simple—no engravings, no embellishments. Just... elegant. Exactly his style.
Letting out a breath, he holstered his weapon and picked up the ring. After a moment of hesitation, he slid it onto his finger.
To his surprise, it fit perfectly.
"Fits like a glove," he muttered with a dry chuckle.
But in the next instant, he winced. The ring released thousands of microscopic needles that pierced his skin where it touched.
"Shit!"
He tried to pull it off, but it wouldn't budge. It was stuck, like it had fused with him.
"What the hell...?"
Then the world tilted. He staggered, suddenly weak. Every step felt heavier. He reached for his phone, but his knees gave out. He collapsed to the floor, trembling and drenched in sweat.
The last thing he heard before blacking out was a cold, synthetic voice:
«Initiating full quantum scan... Soul detected. Transferring to secure subspace... Body dematerialized. Transmitting data... Reassembling bio-quantum structure...»