Elias walked home with the briefcase swinging heavily at his side. The night was colder now, the air biting at his face as he turned every corner, glancing over his shoulder more times than he cared to admit. The weight of the case wasn’t just physical—it was in his mind, a constant pressure gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.
The streets were quiet, almost unnervingly so. The usual hum of the city at night felt distant, muffled, as if the world itself was giving him space to spiral. His grip on the briefcase tightened as his apartment building came into view, the familiar sight bringing no comfort. If anything, it felt more foreign now, like it wasn’t really his home anymore.
When he reached his door, his hands trembled as he fumbled with his keys, the metal jangling against each other before he finally slid the correct one into the lock. He stepped inside, slamming the door shut behind him and locking it with a ferocity he hadn’t realized he was capable of. The deadbolt slid into place with a satisfying click, but it didn’t ease the tension in his chest.
Elias leaned against the door for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to steady his breathing. His apartment was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. The briefcase felt heavier now, as though it had absorbed the weight of the night itself.
Finally, he pushed off the door, setting the briefcase down on the floor in the middle of the room. He stood over it, his arms limp at his sides, staring at the smooth, black surface like it might spring to life at any moment.
"What the hell did I just agree to?" he muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible in the stillness.
The figure’s words replayed in his mind: You will not open it. You will not leave it unattended. You will not speak of it to anyone.
It seemed simple enough. Just don’t touch it, don’t lose it, and don’t let curiosity get the better of you. But as he stood there, the silence of the apartment closing in around him, he felt the first pangs of doubt creep in.
Elias shook his head, rubbing his temples as if the motion might physically push the thoughts away. He needed sleep. Whatever this was—whatever this briefcase represented—could wait until morning. For now, he just needed to rest.
He picked up the case again, carrying it to his bedroom and setting it on the floor beside his bed. The weight of it thudded against the hardwood, a sound that seemed to echo louder than it should have. He stared at it for a moment longer, then climbed into bed, pulling the blanket up to his chest.
The room was quiet, but his mind wasn’t. Thoughts swirled in endless loops, his imagination conjuring up all the things the briefcase could contain. A weapon? Something dangerous? Or maybe something completely mundane, its importance inflated by the Axiom Initiative’s theatrics.
He rolled onto his side, his gaze fixed on the briefcase. The black surface reflected the faint light filtering in through the window, its edges sharp and perfect, like it had been designed to unsettle him. His hand twitched toward it, but he stopped himself, balling his fingers into a fist beneath the covers.
"Don’t be stupid," he muttered to himself. "Just follow the rules. You can’t screw this up."
But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he already had.
Elias didn’t breathe easy until he stepped into his apartment and locked the door behind him. He slid the deadbolt across and double-checked the chain, his hand lingering on the cool metal for a moment longer than necessary. Only when he was certain the door was secure did he let the tension in his shoulders ease, just slightly.
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The briefcase felt impossibly heavy in his hand as he set it down in the middle of the living room floor. It didn’t look like much—smooth, black, unremarkable—but its presence dominated the room, sucking the air out of the small space. He stared at it, his stomach twisting with unease, the figure’s words replaying in his mind.
"Keep it with you at all times. Do not look inside."
He wanted to convince himself that this would be simple, that he could follow the instructions without issue. But nothing about the Axiom Initiative had been simple so far, and the briefcase felt like a trap, a ticking time bomb waiting to go off the moment he slipped up.
Elias tore his eyes away from the case and dropped onto the couch, rubbing his temples as he tried to push the thoughts out of his head. His stomach growled loudly, snapping him back to the present. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten—had it been breakfast? Lunch? The day had blurred together, and hunger gnawed at him now with a ferocity that refused to be ignored.
He grabbed his phone and opened the food delivery app, scrolling aimlessly through the options. Nothing sounded particularly appealing, but he settled on a burger and fries, ordering it with as much enthusiasm as a man filing his taxes. When the order confirmation popped up, he tossed the phone onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
The apartment felt different now. It wasn’t the safe haven it used to be, not with the briefcase sitting there like a silent judge. Even the shadows on the walls seemed to have grown darker, more menacing, as if the room itself knew something he didn’t.
He glanced at the case again, his curiosity and dread battling for dominance. What could be inside? Something valuable? Dangerous? Was it even real, or was it just another layer of whatever game the Initiative was playing with him? The questions piled up in his mind, each one more maddening than the last.
The knock at the door startled him so badly that he nearly jumped off the couch. His heart pounded as he stared at the door, the sound of his pulse filling his ears. It wasn’t until the knock came again, followed by a muffled "delivery!" that he realized it was just the food.
"Get a grip," he muttered under his breath as he got up to retrieve the bag.
The delivery driver was already halfway down the hall when Elias opened the door, their retreating footsteps echoing faintly. He grabbed the bag and shut the door quickly, locking it again before returning to the couch.
The smell of the food was comforting, familiar, and for the first time that day, Elias felt a flicker of normalcy. He dug into the burger with an eagerness that surprised even him, the simple act of eating grounding him in a way nothing else had managed to.
For a while, he let himself focus on the meal, pushing the briefcase and all its implications to the back of his mind. The fries were soggy, the burger slightly overcooked, but it didn’t matter. It was something tangible, something that didn’t come with rules or cryptic instructions.
When the food was gone, Elias leaned back on the couch, wiping his hands on a napkin as he stared at the empty takeout bag. The normalcy he’d managed to claw back was fading now, the weight of the day creeping back in. He glanced at the briefcase again, its sleek surface catching the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. It was a shadow in the room, silent and unrelenting.
With a heavy sigh, he got up and carried the case into his bedroom, setting it down on the floor beside his bed. He hesitated, staring at it for a long moment, his hand hovering over the handle. The urge to open it was almost overwhelming, a quiet voice in the back of his mind whispering, Just look. Just one quick look.
But the figure’s warning rang louder. "You will not open it. You will not leave it unattended." The calm, detached tone of their voice chilled him even now, and he pulled his hand back as though the case had burned him.
Elias climbed into bed, the exhaustion of the day pulling at him like gravity. He turned off the lamp, plunging the room into darkness save for the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through the curtains. The briefcase sat there, a darker shadow against the floor, and he could feel its presence even with his eyes closed.
He lay there for what felt like hours, his mind racing despite his body’s desperate need for rest. The questions wouldn’t stop. What was inside? Why had they given it to him? What did it mean to "keep it with him at all times"? Did they expect him to take it everywhere—even to the bathroom? The absurdity of the thought almost made him laugh, but the sound caught in his throat, dying before it could escape.
Sleep came eventually, but it was fitful and restless, his dreams a swirling haze of shadows and whispers. And through it all, the briefcase remained, an unyielding weight that refused to let him go.