Code of Shadows

Chapter 2 - Becoming a Ghost

I was 15 when I disappeared. No one knew where I went. No one even looked for me. I had no family, no friends. My parents' deaths were ruled an accident, a tragic fire, nothing more. There were no investigations, no headlines. Just a small obituary in the local paper. Alex Montgomery, orphaned, vanished without a trace.

I spent the first few months living in abandoned buildings, squatting in places no one would think to look. I stayed off the grid, using the little money I had to buy food and supplies. I stole what I couldn't afford, learning quickly how to move silently, how to blend into the shadows. I became a ghost, just like my parents wanted.

Every day, I trained. I found an old gym in the backstreets of the city, a place where no one asked questions. I paid in cash, using a fake name. I took up boxing, learning how to throw a punch, how to take a hit. The gym became my sanctuary, a place where I could forget about everything else. I spent hours there, letting my anger and fear fuel my training. I needed to be strong. I needed to be ready.

The gym was a rundown place, with peeling paint and flickering lights. The smell of sweat and old leather filled the air, the sound of fists hitting bags echoing off the walls. It was perfect. No one bothered me here, no one asked questions. I was just another face, another fighter. I could lose myself in the rhythm of the punches, the steady thud of my fists against the bag. It was the only time I felt at peace.

As the months passed, I honed my skills. I moved from boxing to martial arts, studying anything and everything I could find. Muay Thai, Krav Maga, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. I trained relentlessly, pushing my body to its limits. I needed to be able to defend myself. I couldn't afford to be weak, not if I wanted to survive.

I kept to myself, never speaking to anyone, never letting anyone get close. Trust no one. Those were the words I lived by. I watched people from afar, learning their habits, their routines. I became an expert at reading people, at spotting lies and deception. I could tell when someone was watching me, when someone was hiding something. I learned to trust my instincts, to rely on my gut.

But despite my skills, I never felt safe. There was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind, a sense that I was being watched. I moved constantly, never staying in one place for too long. I changed my appearance, cutting my hair, dyeing it, wearing different clothes. I became a master of disguise, slipping in and out of personas like a second skin.

I hacked into databases, searching for information about my parents, about the fire. I found nothing. It was as if they had never existed. No records, no files, no trace. It was like they were ghosts too. I knew there had to be more, but every lead I followed turned into a dead end. I was frustrated, angry. I wanted answers, but all I found was silence.

One night, I found myself in a small, dimly lit internet cafe, the glow of the computer screen casting shadows on my face. I'd been here for hours, searching, hacking, trying to break into files that were sealed tighter than a vault. My fingers moved quickly over the keyboard, my eyes scanning lines of code, looking for any sign, any hint. But there was nothing.

I leaned back in my chair, rubbing my eyes. I was tired, my body aching from hours of sitting. I glanced around the room, my eyes narrowing. The cafe was nearly empty, just a few people hunched over their screens, lost in their own worlds. But I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me. I'd felt it for weeks now, a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. I'd dismissed it as paranoia, but now I wasn't so sure.

I stood up, slipping my laptop into my bag. I needed to get out of here, needed to move. I couldn't afford to stay in one place for too long. I walked to the door, my eyes scanning the street outside. It was late, the city quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic. I took a deep breath, stepping out into the night, the cool air hitting my face.

I moved quickly, my feet carrying me through the maze of streets, my mind focused. I had to keep moving, had to stay ahead. I knew there were people out there, people who wanted me gone, just like my parents. I couldn't let them find me. I had to stay one step ahead.

As I walked, I felt a familiar sense of determination settle over me. I would find out what happened. I would find the people responsible, and I would make them pay. I was Alex Montgomery, and I was a ghost. But I was also a fighter. And I would never give up.

I found another abandoned building, slipping inside, my eyes scanning the darkness. It was cold, damp, but it was safe. I set up a small space for myself, pulling out my laptop, ready to continue my search. I wouldn't stop, not until I had answers. Not until I knew the truth.

I glanced at the door, my mind racing. I couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching me, that someone was out there, waiting. I would be ready. I had to be. I was alone, but I was alive. And I would stay that way.

No matter what it took.