Chapter 4 - The Web Tightens

Buddy 1’s voice over the late-night call was calm and steady.

“I’ve crossed the line,” he said. “Two crimes. I can’t go back now.”

Buddy 2 froze in his dim apartment, staring at the shadows on his wall. “Two? You actually—”

“The drunk guy was the first,” Buddy 1 explained. His tone was cold, like he was talking about taking out the trash. “The second… someone who saw too much. I panicked. But it’s done.”

Buddy 3 gripped his phone tighter, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling fan spinning above him. He whispered, “You’ve… killed two people?”

Buddy 1 nodded slowly, even though they couldn’t see him. “You wanted this life. I’m already in it.”

He didn’t mention the third body, wrapped in plastic in his guest room, hidden behind the closed door like a silent witness.

None of them slept that night.

The Library Meeting

By morning, they agreed to meet at the old city library, a place no one visited anymore. The building was massive but quiet, with cracked marble floors and long shadows. The smell of old books mixed with damp air as the front door creaked open.

Buddy 2 arrived first. He sat in a corner between two dusty shelves, clutching his black backpack like a lifeline. His heart thumped in his chest. Every sound in the library—the flutter of a page, a distant creak—felt like it was exposing him.

A few minutes later, Buddy 3 appeared. His eyes were bloodshot, and his shirt was wrinkled. He slid into the seat across from Buddy 2 without a word.

Finally, Buddy 1 entered. He looked like he had stepped out of a boardroom—neat, clean, composed. His hair was combed, his shirt ironed, and he walked with a confidence that made the other two feel small.

They sat around a small table near the back, hidden between high shelves. A single beam of sunlight fell across the wood.

Buddy 2 unzipped his backpack and slowly pulled out bundles of cash, neatly tied, and a folded paper.

“This… came to my apartment last night,” he whispered. His voice trembled. “No sender. No message. Just cash and… a list of chemists and pharmacists.”

Buddy 3 swallowed hard and placed a small stack of files and a USB drive on the table.

“And this came to mine. News about missing scientists… black-market biology sites… and some… scary research notes. Stuff you can’t just Google.”

Buddy 1 leaned forward, pretending to be shocked. “You’re kidding. Someone just… gave you this?”

“We thought… maybe you,” Buddy 2 said carefully, eyes searching his friend’s face.

Buddy 1 shook his head, hiding the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Not me. But whoever this is—they want you to start. They’re… handing you the keys to your dream.”

The three of them fell silent. Dust swirled in the air, and the distant sound of a clock ticking filled the space.

Buddy 2 broke the silence first, voice low and trembling.

“If someone wants to fund us… why not use them? Take the cash. Use the contacts. Build something real.”

Buddy 3 hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Yeah… we pretend to play their game. But we build our own. This… this is our start.”

Buddy 1 leaned back, crossing his arms, acting thoughtful. Inside, his chest swelled with satisfaction.

Perfect. They think they’re using a stranger. They have no idea the stranger is sitting right in front of them.

The First Moves

That same night, Buddy 2 decided to act.

He drove through the empty streets to the edge of the city, where the streetlights flickered and the roads were cracked. A dirty bar crouched between two abandoned buildings. Outside, three rough-looking men sat on overturned crates, smoking, eyes dull with boredom.

Buddy 2 parked, heart hammering. He grabbed an envelope stuffed with cash and walked toward them.

“I need three young men,” he said quietly. His voice shook, but the money made it sound strong. “Strong, healthy. Bring them here.” He slipped them a paper with the address of an abandoned warehouse. “No police. No questions. You’ll get paid double on delivery.”

The men exchanged looks, then grinned. Deals like this didn’t need questions.

Across the city, Buddy 3 made his move.

He sat in his small clinic, phone in hand, staring at the numbers from his parcel. Finally, he called one—a blacklisted chemist who had been fired for stealing lab samples.

The man answered groggily.

“I’ll pay you more than anyone else,” Buddy 3 said smoothly. “You’ll work for me. Quietly.”

“I… I don’t do that anymore,” the chemist stammered.

Buddy 3’s voice hardened. “You will. Or I’ll find someone who will—and you’ll regret saying no.”

There was a long pause, then a quiet, defeated, “Where do I meet you?”

Night of Screams

By midnight, the city’s shadows carried their first screams.

Buddy 2’s hired men followed three gym-goers walking home late. They waited until the street was empty, then moved fast.

One man clamped a hand over a victim’s mouth, another tackled the second to the ground, and the third swung a metal pipe, knocking the last one unconscious.

A van door slid open. The men were gagged, bound, and tossed inside. Their muffled shouts faded as the van sped into the night.

Meanwhile, Buddy 3’s goons struck a tiny private lab.

The blacklisted chemist opened the back door to step out for a smoke—two men grabbed him instantly. He screamed once before a gloved hand silenced him. His glasses fell to the wet pavement.

The retired scientist, lured with promises of work, had no time to react. He was dragged from his home in his slippers, trembling, his old bones rattling with fear.

By sunrise, the abandoned warehouse on the industrial edge of the city held five captives.

The Warehouse

Inside, the air was thick with fear.

Buddy 2 paced around the three bound gym-goers, muttering like a mad scientist. His eyes darted over their terrified faces.

“XX stays… XY comes… Tonight, I start,” he whispered, as if speaking to the walls.

The young men whimpered through their gags. One struggled against his ropes, but the goons kicked him down.

In another corner, Buddy 3 faced the chemist and scientist. His hands shook—not with fear, but with excitement.

“You work for me now,” he said slowly. “We’re going to make drugs people will kill for. And if you run…”

He let the sentence hang in the cold air.

The chemist nodded frantically. The old scientist closed his eyes, whispering a prayer under his breath.

For the first time, their wild fantasies were no longer fantasies. They were crimes, alive and breathing in front of them.

The Puppet Master

While they sweated in the warehouse, Buddy 1 sipped his morning coffee on his high-rise balcony.

The city glimmered gold under the rising sun. His phone buzzed.

Buddy 2: “Phase one done.”

Buddy 3: “We’re in.”

Buddy 1 smiled. They thought they were in control. They thought they were using the mysterious sender.

They didn’t know he was the sender—and that he had been pulling their strings from the start.

He leaned back in his chair, letting the cold air fill his lungs.

Dance for me, he thought. You’ve only taken the first step into my darkness.

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