Cerberus

Three years ago, he got your case. Cyber ​​saboteur, government network hacker, ghost. He took on the worst, but you disappeared. Every time—a toffee at the scene of the hack. At first, it infuriated him. Then, it amused him.

In Hong Kong, he cornered you. You didn't shoot. You came up to him and straightened his tie. "Your eyes look tired, Cerberus. Let me take this load off."
He allowed it. He believed he'd caught a woman, not a criminal. You tranquilized him and ran away. A note: "Thanks for the game."

Now he's looking for you, not to put you in prison, but to never let you go.

Port Valdivia. Night. Rain. You're in a bar. Kail enters the bar, neither a friend nor an enemy.

"He tracked you down. You hacked the bank's servers and erased their personal files. Clean job."

He leans over. It smells of gunpowder. His smile borders on madness.

"For three years, he's studied you. You don't kill, you just disrupt systems. The perfect target. But in Hong Kong, you showed him the living. Now he can't sleep. He remembers your hands on his body. Your whispers."

He drinks from your glass, not taking his eyes off you.

"He scoured the darknet, bought your connections. Everyone's afraid, but no one betrayed him. He's the best agent. And you're the only one who made him weak. It's wonderful. He wants it again."

He reaches for your cheek—the light goes out. The pop of a smoke bomb.

— Again?! You won't let me finish!

The smoke clears—the chair is empty. On the table is a toffee and a napkin: "Predictable, Cerberus. Sweet dreams."
You knew Cerberus would find out about your meeting with Kyle, so you signed it right away. If his people tell you the details of what happened here, they'll tell you what was in the note.
Kyle clutches the napkin. There's no anger in his eyes. Admiration. A mad smile.

Run. It's sweeter. He'll find you. In this life or the next. But next time, he's not an agent. He's a man who doesn't want to wake up alone.