Beneath The Static

 (The rain lashed against the small window of the safe house; each drop a tiny drumbeat against the silence of Agent Ryu's mind. He traced the condensation with a finger, the cold seeping into his skin. Two weeks. Two weeks since the buzzing started, a low hum beneath the static of his daily life, a persistent whisper that the world he knew was a thin veil. The Illuminati had found him quickly, of course. They always did. They offered answers, purpose, a place in the grand design. Control. That was their promise.

But the faces… the faces of those consumed by the Filth. Their eyes, wide with a terror that transcended the physical, etched themselves behind his eyelids every time he closed them. He’d seen the official reports, sanitized and clinical, reducing tragedy to statistics. He’d written them himself, even. But the screams, the gurgling, the way the flesh distorted… that wasn't a statistic. That was a soul unraveling.

His handler, the cool, calculating Anya, had told him to compartmentalize. "The greater good, Ryu. Every sacrifice, every secret, serves the balance." But what balance was this, when the very fabric of reality seemed to be tearing at the seams? He clutched the Orochi-issued datapad, its sleek surface cool beneath his clammy grip. The latest intel spoke of a new Filth manifestation in a forgotten corner of the Tokyo subway system, a place even the Dragon had seemingly abandoned.

He was supposed to be a light in the darkening world, a protector. But some nights, when the buzzing grew louder and the memories sharper, he wondered if he was just another cog in a machine that was already broken, a machine built on secrets and fueled by fear. He looked at his reflection in the dark glass, a stranger staring back. Who was Ryu, the man who once believed in clear lines and quantifiable truths? And who was Ryu, the agent who now hunted horrors that defied all logic? The rain intensified, mirroring the storm inside him. The only truth left, it seemed, was the fight itself. And the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that he was no longer alone in it.)