Data & Dust

Snap!

Ethan’s pupils contracted, then dilated as the penlight's beam moved from side to side, held by a man who looked like a doctor. The light cut through the haze of exhaustion clinging to him, forcing his attention to sharpen. The doctor moved methodically, checking his pulse, listening to his heartbeat, pressing gently on his ribs where the bruises were worst. After a quick blood pressure reading, the doctor handed Ethan a small paper cup of water.

“Drink this,” the man said, his voice professional but distant.

Ethan took a slow sip, the cool liquid soothing his dry throat just as the door creaked open and Detective Sato walked in. His presence was commanding as ever, though his expression was laced with something heavier than usual.

“How’re you feeling, Ethan?” Sato asked, eyes scanning him over with an air of concern.

Ethan grimaced, wincing at the dull ache spreading through his body. “I’ll live,” he replied, his voice dry, almost sarcastic.

The detective cracked a smile, though it was more ironic than warm. “Good to know. After all, you're one of the most valuable assets we’ve had in a while. Can't afford to lose you now, can we?”

Ethan couldn’t help but laugh — more a pained exhale than anything. He winced again, then shot back, “Funny you say that. For someone so valuable, the police sure didn’t spare me a gunfight.”

Sato’s face tightened, his eyes narrowing as he caught the edge in Ethan’s voice. “What do you mean by that?” the detective asked, his tone sharp as he waved the man in white away, signaling for privacy.

“Well, I barely made it out without a bullet in me,” Ethan replied bluntly.

Detective Sato frowned, taking a step closer. “From the Yaks, you mean?”

Ethan hesitated. He thought about the scene again, replaying the chaos in his mind. The way the Yakuza had stormed in, the shouting, the sudden burst of gunfire that had thrown the room into disarray. The memory of it gnawed at him.

“N-no,” he said slowly. “The Yakuza didn’t fire until the police did. It was your men who had me at gunpoint.”

The room seemed to go still. Sato’s expression darkened, his eyes flicking to the side as if his mind had already begun piecing together the what-if’s. He said nothing for a moment, the silence between them heavy. When he finally spoke, his voice was measured, quiet, like he was processing something dangerous. “You're sure about that?”

Ethan nodded. “I think it was your men… but everything happened so fast, I can’t be sure. Yeah, no, I’m positive. The police fired first.”

Sato’s storm of thoughts crashed into one another. His jaw clenched as he turned away, hands balling into fists.

“A mole in the force? Or someone from the Yakuza pulling strings?”

The possibilities gnawed at him. His gaze flicked to the door, then back to Ethan, his eyes blazing with intensity.

He began to pace, the dull thud of his boots echoing in the small room. “If it’s one of mine...” He cut himself off, his pulse quickening. “If someone in my unit’s feeding them information, we’ve got a goddamn problem.” He stopped pacing, his hands pressing into the edge of the desk as if steadying himself.

“You remember the officer?”

Ethan shook his head. “Not when everyone else was wearing a mask. I’m sorry. I don’t.”

Sato fell silent for a moment, his gaze drifting to the floor. The implications of Ethan's words settled heavily in the air. He had seen enough in his career to know that trust could be a fragile thing.

Ethan shifted in his seat, fingers drumming nervously on the edge of the cup. The police station had felt like a fortress when he first walked in, but now... He glanced at the door, half expecting someone to burst in at any moment.

Detective Sato sighed, his mind racing. He had seen plenty of dirty dealings in his years on the force, had always suspected that the Yakuza had their hooks in places they shouldn’t. But if one of his own men had been compromised, that was a different story. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed his mind before — he wasn’t naïve — but to hear it from Ethan, to have it spelled out like this, was something else entirely.

He turned his back to Ethan for a moment, his hands slipping into his coat pockets as he mulled over the possibility. The room felt colder all of a sudden.

“This might get... complicated,” Sato muttered, almost to himself. His mind stirred with scenarios, potential betrayals, the possibility of a mole planted deep within his unit. It wasn't unheard of, but now, with Ethan alive and still talking, it couldn’t be ignored any longer. If one of his men was working for the Yakuza, it would explain a lot — the mishaps, the near misses, how Ethan had slipped right through their fingers at that party. It felt like someone was always one step ahead, and now he might know why.

The detective had been watching Ethan closely, weighing every word. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then thought better of it.

Sato cursed under his breath. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, the weight of betrayal crashing down on him. “Damn it.” His fists clenched again, knuckles whitening. “If this gets out —”

He stopped mid-sentence, the implications flooding him. The Yakuza had always been a threat, but if someone inside his own unit was compromised... Everything could unravel. He shot a glance at the door, paranoia creeping in. He couldn’t trust anyone. Not yet.

Sato narrowed his eyes, thinking hard. “If someone’s feeding the Yakuza information…” he paused, then added, “and about this ‘Styx’... The tech guys found it popping up all over your connection logs. It could be linked. You sure you don’t know anything about that?”

Ethan shook his head. “I’ve never even heard of it until earlier.”

Sato’s gaze flicked toward the files on his desk, but his mind was already back in that cramped tech room, where the air was thick with tension and code. The hum of computers and the soft glow of monitors cast a bluish hue on the cramped space. On the wall, a web of data, lines of code, and connections flickered across multiple screens, all leading back to one central mystery — Ethan’s AI service.

His lead technician, a wiry man with thick glasses named Miyama, glanced up from his station, a deep frown etched on his face. “It’s not what we thought, sir,” the tech began, his voice tinged with frustration. “At first, it looked like Ethan was simply using a public AI service, standard stuff. But we found a backdoor — a hidden access point leading to an exclusive server. Someone’s feeding him information directly.”

Sato leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s behind it?”

“Hard to tell at this point,” Miyama’s fingers danced over the keyboard, his brow furrowed. “It’s worse than we thought,” he began, eyes glued to the screen. “Whoever set up this backdoor buried it under layers of encryption. We’ve traced the connection back to several dummy servers across the globe, but no luck yet on the original source.”

Sato frowned, leaning in closer. “But you found something?”

“Yeah,” Miyama nodded, pulling up a new file. “We’re picking up data trails connected to certain access points — unusual logins at odd times, patterns we think belong to someone on the inside.”

Sato’s stomach tightened. “You’re saying the mole’s in our system?”

“Not just that,” Miyama said, his voice lowering. “We found a signature — someone who’s accessed Yakuza communications before. Someone with high-level clearance.”

Sato exhaled sharply, his mind racing. “Hmmm. A mole in the force, or a rat in the Yakuza? So, this ‘Styx’ — any hits?”

Miyama shook his head. “Nothing. We’ve run the term through every database we have, and it’s a dead end. No one seems to know what ‘Styx’ refers to, at least not in any official records.”

Sato’s jaw tightened. “And Anna? Any leads there?”

“Unfortunately,” Miyama replied, his tone more somber now, "no mention of her in any of the logs we’ve analyzed. It’s like she’s vanished without a trace. We’ve issued an APB, but so far, nothing. She’s a ghost.”

Sato rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the weight of the dead ends piling up. The Yakuza’s involvement made sense, but the lack of any connection to Anna left an unsettling void. Still, he had a clue — however small it was — and that meant there was a trail to follow.

“We keep digging,” Sato ordered, his voice firm. “Focus on finding the source of that server. If we can trace the origin of the information, we might be able to pull this thing apart. Run background check on the members. Start with those who’ve had access to systems that could pull off something like this — encryption experts, black hat hackers, anyone in that realm. Dig deep into their employment records, associations, and side jobs. I don’t want anyone slipping through the cracks.”

Miyama nodded, already turning back to his work, fingers dancing over the keys as Sato stepped away, his mind churning with the growing complexity of the case. Every answer led to more questions, and every uncovered detail seemed to pull them deeper into the shadows of the Yakuza’s web.

As the memory of the tech room faded, Sato’s focus snapped back to the present. His gaze settled on Ethan, the hard edge in his expression returning, sharper now, fueled by the weight of everything he’d learned. “I’ll look into it. We’ll run this down quietly. No one needs to know you said anything.” His voice had a steely edge to it.

Ethan leaned back, exhaling slowly. “You really think someone’s playing both sides? Am I really safe here at the station? I’m safe here, right?” His voice wavered, laced with rising panic and fear, his tightening hand around the paper cup causing the water inside to ripple. “Because right now, I don’t feel like it,” he added, wincing, as pain shot again through his bruised sides.

Detective Sato didn’t respond immediately, his jaw tightening. “I’ve learned not to trust too easily in this line of work. Especially now.”

His eyes met Ethan’s, a silent agreement passing between them. Ethan had just handed him a truth that couldn’t be ignored, and Sato knew that if they weren’t careful, they’d be stepping into a game far more dangerous than any of them had anticipated. There was a leak, and if the Yakuza were manipulating his own men, the lines between friend and foe had just become a lot blurrier.

Sato took a deep breath, his voice low. “I’ll figure out who it is, check out the reports and whatnot. But I need you to stay quiet about this — for now. If someone’s compromised, we can’t tip them off.”

Ethan nodded, but his stomach churned. Trust was a rare commodity in his world now, and he wasn’t sure if even the police could protect him from whatever was coming next.

Sato turned to leave, the tension in his shoulders evident. Before stepping out, he glanced back at Ethan, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’ll make this right. Just stay alive long enough for me to get to the bottom of it. I’ll look into this,” Sato said finally, his voice grim. “The mole. The Yakuza. And whatever the hell this ‘Styx’ is. It’s all connected somehow, and I’m find out. You sure you don’t know anything about it?”

Ethan frowned, shaking his head. “Styx? From the AI? Yeah, no, I’ve got no clue what that’s about. I don’t even know where that would come from.” His voice was firm, but the confusion in his eyes was genuine. “I swear, I have no idea.”

And with that, Sato disappeared again, leaving Ethan alone with the weight of what he’d just uncovered — a pawn in a much larger game, one where the rules were changing by the second.