Wednesday arrived like a silent storm, sweeping over the Miler household with little fanfare. The rhythm of their everyday lives—schoolwork, afternoon activities, and dinner—continued unbroken. However, Roy couldn''t escape the gnawing feeling that something unsettling loomed beneath the surface. His Discord messages kept flooding in, and although he continued to sift through the various spam, friend requests, and business proposals, a part of him couldn’t shake the anxiety that clung to the situation. There was nothing obvious to tie it together, just an overwhelming sense of impending chaos. The early morning hours of Wednesday felt eerily calm, as though the world itself was holding its breath. Roy’s alarm clock blared with the sharp tone of the workday’s beginning, and as always, it took him a moment to rise from his slumber. Sara was still curled up beside him, her peaceful form a stark contrast to his mind, which was already swirling with thoughts about the mission ahead. Liya was in her room, likely still lost in the blur of sleep, her soft breathing the only other sound in the house. Roy rose from the bed, feeling the familiar weight of exhaustion press against his bones. He dragged himself to the bathroom, splashing his face with cold water in an attempt to shake off the remnants of sleep. The brief jolt of coolness against his skin helped, but only just. After brushing his teeth, he made his way downstairs, the faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeting him as he entered the kitchen. He poured himself a cup, the warmth of it offering a slight comfort against the early morning chill. Leaving the house early before Sara and Liya was up was unusual for Roymostofthe the time he needed to get to work after dripping Liya at school or if it was night shift he went out after they got home. The streets of New York suburbs were empty at this hour, but for today''s drop assignment he needed to drive to the company office at Mannhetten and not the upstate site. His commute to work was boring as ever though it was a bit easier this morning due to the lighter traffic. Roy set his Tesla to autopilot and pulled out his tablet, skimming through the morning’s headlines as the car smoothly made its way toward the office. Yet, despite the mundane nature of the drive, his mind kept wandering back to the events of the previous evening. The Rumble event. The surprise victory. The deluge of messages that had filled his Discord inbox, most of which were unsettling threats from strangers, made him question the security of his online life. The idea of beta access was tantalizing, but the attention it had attracted—unwanted and strange—was beginning to feel like a burden. Roy’s thoughts strayed back to the military, to the years he had spent on high-risk security details after leaving active service. But now his post-military career had taken him in directions he hadn’t expected, and he had grown comfortable in the routine of his current work. While Sara had become the primary breadwinner, Roy had found solace in the predictability of his shifts as a security officer for a private company. The job wasn’t glamorous by any means, but it paid well, and it offered the quiet life he’d grown accustomed to. No surprises. No drama, but once in a while his boss knowing what history and experience his employee has, sends him on a higher profile mission to species things up and Roy takes the extra money and the routine break as a good thing. Arriving at the office building, Roy parked his Tesla and walked toward the entrance. The morning was still cool, and he zipped up his jacket as he greeted the night shift security guards. It was a quiet, nondescript building—nothing to draw attention to, just a safe, insulated place to work. The office was on the second floor of a shabby building in the heart of New York City, tucked away from the prying eyes of the busy streets. Roy waved at Beca, one of the secretaries on duty that morning, before heading toward the small office of Ben, the company head of operations. “Morning, Ben,” Roy said, walking into the office. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries. He needed to get the package and get on with his day. “Morning,” Ben replied, looking up briefly from the paperwork sprawled on his desk. “You here for the Toronto package?” “That’s right,” Roy answered, keeping his tone professional. Ben nodded and handed over a small, nondescript bag. "Here you go, the envelope inside. Make sure you follow the anti-surveillance routine before boarding the bus. It’s not a high-priority drop, but it''s always good practice. Let us know once it''s delivered and you''re back. We’ll need confirmation that everything went smoothly.” Roy took the bag, feeling its weight, and slipped it into his backpack. “Understood, sir.” “Good boy. Now get going, I’ve got a lot of work to do,” Ben said with a dismissive wave, his attention already drifting back to the stack of paperwork in front of him. Roy nodded and turned to leave, making his way to the street outside. It was time for his counter-surveillance routine—something that had become second nature after years of military service. He started with a walk through the bustling streets of the city, weaving through crowds, moving from one busy intersection to a quieter alleyway, then back to the crowds, always scanning his surroundings for any sign of unusual behavior. After half an hour of this routine, he felt no indication that anyone was tailing him. Feeling confident that he was clear, Roy made his way to the bus station on 42nd Street, where he caught a bus bound for Toronto. The trip would be long, but nothing he hadn’t done a dozen times before. However, the nagging feeling at the back of his mind wouldn’t go away. The unsettling messages from his Discord, the strange threats from faceless strangers—it was all starting to weigh on him. The bus trip to Toronto was uneventful. Roy kept to himself, lost in his thoughts, checking his phone intermittently for any updates on the Rumble event. The more he read the messages, the more he realized just how deep the rabbit hole of Web3 gaming could go. But there was no time to dwell on that now. He had a job to do. Upon arrival in Toronto, Roy dropped the envelope at the pre-advised address and checked in with his company, confirming that the package had been delivered successfully. After finishing work-related business it was time for pleasure. He ordered an Uber to take him to the downtown Marriott Hotel, where the recipient was supposed to pick up the package. The Uber ride was uneventful. Roy donned his hat and COVID mask, his face obscured, in an effort to stay under the radar. He arrived at the hotel, his nerves beginning to tighten as he prepared to execute his next move. Inside the hotel, he approached the reception desk and asked for the location of the mailroom. A quick inquiry with the staff, and he was directed to the back of the building. At the mailroom, Roy requested the “Kalaman” package, offering the shipment number to the clerk. After a few moments of hesitation, the employee disappeared into the backroom, taking what felt like an eternity to return with a cardboard box in his hands. Roy accepted the package, slipping the employee a generous tip before heading to the restroom just across from the mailroom. There, he opened the box and quickly transferred the contents into his backpack, ensuring that nothing was left behind. The package now empty was kept with him. He exited the restroom and made his way back to the lobby, keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary. It wasn’t long before he saw two young men approaching the hotel entrance. Their worn baseball bats were the giveaway—Roy instinctively knew they were here for him. They looked like they’d come prepared for a confrontation, and from the looks of it, they were about to make their move. Roy didn’t want to risk a scene in the hotel lobby, where security cameras would catch everything or even the security personnel code detain him. He quickly decided to move outside, hoping to grab the initiative and surprise his attackers. The two men recognized him immediately, their eyes narrowing as they saw him. Roy braced himself, instinctively readying for what he knew was coming. The first attacker swung his bat wildly, but Roy was ready. He tossed the empty cardboard box at the man, distracting him just enough. As the bat connected with the box, Roy surged forward, throwing a well-timed jab and cross combination that sent his assailant stumbling back. The second attacker was quick to respond, swinging his bat in a wide arc, but Roy ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the blow. The fight escalated quickly. The second attacker managed to land a glancing blow to Roy’s ribs, the sting of the impact sharp but not crippling. Roy moved in closer, using his momentum to land a brutal headbutt to the man’s nose, the sickening sound of cartilage breaking ringing in his ears. With the second attacker on the ground, Roy didn’t hesitate. He followed up with an uppercut elbow shot to the chin, sending his opponent crashing to the pavement. With both attackers incapacitated, Roy made his escape. He sprinted toward the street, his heart pounding in his chest. The Uber was just a few yards away, and he didn’t waste any time getting inside. As the car drove off, Roy finally allowed himself a deep breath. He had made it out unscathed—mostly. His ribs ached from the blow, but nothing serious. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and he could feel the exhaustion catching up with him. Back in the Uber, Roy couldn’t help but replay the fight in his mind. It had been brutal, but effective. The attackers were probably regretting their decision to confront him. He would make sure to file a report with his company, but he didn’t expect much to come of it. What mattered now was getting back to the bus station and heading home. Once at the bus station, Roy discreetly switched shirts in the restroom and took off his hat and mask. His heart rate slowly returned to normal as he boarded the bus back to New York, the weight of the day''s events sinking in. As he sat down, his mind wandered back to the attackers. He couldn’t shake the thought that someone had tipped them off. Had it been the mailman? The thought gnawed at him. “I should go back and get that tip back…” he muttered to himself, the words sounding more like a promise than a thought. The world of Web3 had taken him further into the unknown than he had ever imagined, and he was beginning to understand just how dangerous it could be. The promise of beta codes, the lure of early access—everything seemed innocent enough at first. But now, Roy was discovering that there was more at stake than just a game. And he was tangled right in the middle of it.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.