Matthew Silva's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Matthew Silva locked the door of the rusted outpost behind him and set his pistol on the table. He picked this place for meetings he could not yet trust. The convoy job through Kessler was his crew's first real shot. He needed the right people, and only the people he chose. A knock came three minutes early. The stranger stepped inside without waiting, a small radio cradled in one gloved hand. On their shoulder perched a bright blue chameleon, scales flickering with tiny sparks. "You're running the Kessler route Tuesday," the stranger said. They set the radio on the table. It chimed softly, a clean melodic tone. "That's your second checkpoint pinging. The old tower past the rail yard. I've been listening for a week." Matthew's jaw tightened. He had told no one the route. He walked to the narrow window and looked out toward the horizon, where the rusted signal tower rose against the gray sky, its frame still humming with frequencies it should not have. Someone had been watching the line before he ever drew it. "I want a seat," the stranger said. "Or I sell what I know by morning." Matthew turned back, eyes clear, and pulled out the second chair. The job was no longer only his. The crew he had planned so carefully now had a passenger he did not pick.