The van carrying Niko and Priya navigated steadily through the streets of Singapore, with Klara and Sayeed following closely behind in a beat-up sedan.

“Okay, that was too bloody close, Niko,” Klara’s voice crackled through the earpiece. “Now, let’s go back to the safe house. We’re following you.”

The small convoy weaved through the city, towards the neighborhood of Toas on the outskirts of town.

Toas was an interesting mix of industrial decay and modest residential life. The area was dotted with old warehouses and factories, many of which had been repurposed or abandoned, giving it a slightly post-apocalyptic feel.

After what felt like an eternity, they finally pulled into a nondescript building. Luckily, Niko was aware enough to put Kuryakov’s interference device next to Priya’s body. They couldn’t be tracked, at least for now. He owed that guy a beer.

The warehouse was perfect for laying low. It was a former ship factory building, similar to the last five they had passed on the way. Niko parked the truck inside, and Klara pulled up beside him. They quickly unloaded Priya, carrying her inside. The place was a far cry from the sleek, high-tech confines of NAPPA’s headquarters. Its corrugated metal walls, weathered and rust-stained, had apparently been neglected for years. Inside, dim lighting cast eerie shadows over scattered crates and dusty equipment, remnants of its past life as a storage facility for shipping cargo.

The air was thick with the scent of oil and dust, mingling with the acrid tang of medicines and antiseptics from the makeshift infirmary that Sayeed had prepped in the corner, just in case. Turns out, he wasn’t wrong.

Niko might not have been a medical doctor, but it was painfully clear Priya was in bad shape. She hadn’t stirred since the incident, and her breathing was shallow and labored. Niko wiped sweat from his brow, trying to focus.

“Don’t worry; we’ll take care of her now,” one of the two medical nurses waiting inside assured.

Niko didn’t know who they were, nor did he care at that moment. As long as they could help her, they could be the bloody Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus.

He watched, tense and silent, as the nurses got to work.

Seeing how shaken he was, Klara asked him to sit down and have a cup of tea. Niko hated having tea, and drinking it felt like a chore, especially in Singapore’s sticky, humid climate. But he felt he needed it.

“Tell me what happened inside,” Klara requested while Sayeed sat opposite of him, typing manically on his phone.

Ryan’s laughter echoed in Niko’s ears as he recounted in detail the scene in the parking lot. He occasionally glanced at Priya, noting with relief that her breathing seemed to be stabilizing.

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“We’re going to need all the help we can get,” Niko concluded, looking at Klara. “It’s time to rally any allies that we have and discuss the next steps.”

“Not that we have many allies, but yeah …” Klara said with a determined look, while Sayeed kept suspiciously still.

“So, what’s wrong with this Ryan dude?” Sayeed asked suddenly.

“I have no idea. He seemed so agitated, even delusional, when he spoke. He confessed to killing Edmundsson but said he didn’t know why and mentioned ‘not being in control.’ I’m not sure what that means.”

“Is he maybe on drugs?” Sayeed asked, picking at his teeth.

“That would make sense.” Klara nodded. “He might have had withdrawal symptoms. Does he have any past addictions?”

“Another theory: he’s full of shit,” Sayeed added.

“No, it felt so genuine. It felt like he was telling the truth. But who knows? I thought I knew the guy, and it turns out he is a lunatic.”

“He does seem to have some manic symptoms. But hey, he’s basically the most famous person in the world right now. Who wouldn’t be a little unhinged?”

“But wait—you told us that that Kuryakov’s device thingy you carried caused this, right? Maybe it was messing with his brain waves or somethin’,” Sayeed suggested.

Niko tapped on his temple. “Good point. This reminds me, I have to speak to Kuryakov, Sayeed—ASAP. How do I do that?”

“Well, I can tell you right now that we’re not bloody flying back there, that’s for sure! Let me try to secure a phone line for you.” Sayeed stood up and quickly headed to the opposite corner of the room.

“Thanks. What’s your opinion on all of this?” Niko nodded toward Klara.

“Not sure yet. It’s clear that NAPPA is working on some dangerous tech. This body control function that you mentioned sounds scary, especially if it’s used on a wider scale, or for military or espionage purposes. Do you think that would be able to do that? Even globally?”

Klara looked concerned, thoughts of her parents flickering through her mind. What if the device was turned on them? They were alone and helpless, far away in their quiet countryside home, unaware of the looming threat. Although they never really got along, the idea of them being manipulated or harmed sent a chill down her spine.

“My best guess is a yes. If not immediately, then soon. They are all about the profits now, and it wouldn’t be viable to develop a device like that for individual use cases. Anything is possible with a strong enough signal reaching all the NanoChip devices worldwide”

Sayeed returned. “Done,” he told Niko, passing by. “You can speak to him tomorrow at five thirty a.m., before he leaves for work. I’m gonna go and get some shuteye now; it’s been a long day. Let’s discuss strategy tomorrow.” With that, he left.

Niko turned around to Klara, slightly irritated. “How does he manage that?”

“Manage what?”

“Everything. He kept me hidden for so long. We flew who knows how many times to different countries, undetected. I saw him at the airports, he says, “Hi” here, shakes a hand over there, and we’re in. Where does your organization get the money and connections to do all that? Who finances you?”

Klara leaned forward. “Look, I understand where you’re coming from. I had the same questions when I first joined a year ago. Obviously, Sayeed, being ex-CIA, has connections everywhere. He doesn’t tell me much either, but I listen and find out stuff. All I know is that this is a lean organization. We have only a few permanent members; the rest are temps, like me.”

Niko’s curiosity was piqued. “How did he manage to recruit you, then?”

“I won several Hackathons in my school a few years ago. Soon thereafter, he appeared at my doorstep, offering a good cause and good money. I accepted, as I had to get out of there. Our interests align for now, so we’re good. If that changes in the future, we’ll part ways.”

“Wait, wait, wait—you said he recruited you from school? What the hell? How old are you?”

“I’m nineteen now,” she replied with a hint of pride in her voice.

“Damn,” Niko said. Sayeed sure did have an eye for talent.