MTLNOVEL Chapter 232: Meeting the Archivist
The rain in Cluj-Napoca stung like needles, slicking the cobblestones and pooling in the cracks of a city caught between old stone and new glass.
Darren and Rachel stepped off a battered tram at dusk, the sky a bruised smear of purple.
Their target was a warehouse on the city's edge, a hulking relic of Romania's industrial past, now home to an underground archivist named Elena.
Once they got inside, they met air thrumming with the low drone of server fans. It was a very displeasing sound, the kind that burrowed into your skull.
"Ah. The pretty face," Elena greeted Darren, causing the duo to glance at each other.
Elena was a wisp of a woman, fourties, dyed gray streaks in her hair like static. Her eyes, sharp as razor wire, sized them up as they entered her maze of server racks.
"You know you're not alone in this hunt, right?" she said, her voice a low rasp, leading them to a rusted rack in the back. "Two days ago, someone else came sniffing for NakamuraGhost. Paid good money. Left empty-handed."
"Well at least you're upfront about it. Last guy didn't even bother to tell us." Darren's pulse ticked up, but his face stayed stone. "What's on the table?"
She pointed to the rack, its panels dented, flecked with rust. "NakamuraGhost's offsite backup. One drive, custom encryption. I can unlock it — for a price."
Darren didn't blink. He slid a small case across the table, packed with encrypted relics from a dead darknet market and a sum of $20,000. Elena's eyes flicked over them, then she tossed him a keycard, its edges worn smooth. "It's in Slot 17. Don't fuck it up."
Rachel was already moving, her laptop tethered to the rack, fingers dancing across the keys as she wrestled with the encryption.
The system fought back, sluggish and stubborn, spitting error codes like curses. Darren stood guard, his eyes scanning the warehouse's shadows. Something was off— a faint itch at the base of his neck, like static before a storm.
"I've got it," Rachel said, her voice cutting through the hum. She held up a scratched USB drive, her face lit by the glow of her screen. "Four more words. Ten out of twelve."
Darren's breath hitched. They were close. Too close. Before he could speak, the system buzzed, a red alert pulsing across the cracked display.
┏ALERT: Concurrent wallet recovery attempt detected.┛
┏Conflict path: Adam Scotland — North Node Recovery Proxy.┛
┏Projected next node: Zurich, Switzerland.┛
Darren scoffed. "So it's Adam Scotland then. Of course it's him. He would have heard about this too."
"He's the one who's going after the Bitcoin?" Rachel asked.
"Yup," Darren replied.
"Do you think he'll get it before we do?"
"They won't," Darren said, his voice like a blade. He walked to where she was and pulled up the USB's metadata in the laptop, fingers steady despite the churn in his gut.
The trail was clear: a private vault in Zurich, tied to NakamuraGhost's final alias. The last two words were there, waiting.
He met Rachel's gaze, his eyes hard. "We best her going. Can't let Scotland get that wallet."
Elena watched them leave, before she silently picked up her phone and made a call.
They stepped into the Romanian night, the warehouse door groaning shut behind them. The air was sharp, heavy with the scent of wet asphalt.
As they walked, Darren's eyes caught a flicker in the distance: a tall figure in a dark coat, lingering at the street's edge, watching.
They thought neither of them noticed them and so they silently followed.
Darren, felt the figure walking closer, keeping pace with them. He couldn't just wait until something happened, and so...
"Rachel," he said, his voice low, not breaking stride. "Grab me a burger from that joint across the street."
She scoffed, brushing damp hair from her face. "A burger? Didn't know you're hungry."
Darren shrugged.
"What? Do you think a burger's gonna solve your trust issues with shadowy warehouses? Fine, but I'm getting fries too." She jogged off, her silhouette fading into the neon glow of the diner.
Darren watched her leave, and then continued forward. The person... was still following.
He took a few more steps before slipping into the alley beside the warehouse, his back pressed to the cold brick. His breath was steady, his hand resting on the knife in his pocket.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
He could hear the silent footsteps approaching. The figure was coming, it's shadow was already on the floor, its steps slow and deliberate, boots scuffing the wet pavement.
Then, timing the footsteps, Darren moved like a shadow, circling behind. He spun around fluidly, appearing behind the person. He clamped a hand over their mouth and pinned their arms with the other.
"Listen close," he hissed, his voice a low growl. "Tell Adam Scotland if he keeps sniffing around, he'll get the attention from me that he so desperately wants, and he'll end up regretting it. Stop following me."
A muffled sound came from beneath his hand. He loosened his grip, stepping back as the figure turned.
Darren frowned.
It was a woman— Russian, young, maybe mid-twenties. Her face was striking, all sharp angles and pale skin, framed by dark hair that clung to her cheeks in the rain. Her eyes, a piercing green, held a mix of defiance and something softer, like she wasn't used to being caught.
She coughed.
"I don't know any Adam Scotland," her accent was very thick but her voice was steady. "But I was told someone's poking around Skinner's wallet."
Darren's eyes narrowed. "Skinner?"
"Vladimir Skinner," she said, brushing her coat straight, unfazed by the encounter. "You don't even know his real name, do you? NakamuraGhost. His real name is Vladimir Skinner."
Darren pursed his lips. "Well that's a terrifying name."
The girl scoffed. "I knew Skinner. Me and my folks."
Darren shook his head. "Is that why you're following me? Because I'm poking around on his stuff."
The girl looked around nervously. Darren tried to find what she was looking at .
"Not just that," she said. "Some people want a word with you." She reached into her pocket, slow enough to show she wasn't a threat, and handed him a card. It was black, embossed with a silver lotus.
Darren glanced at it, reading the content: Lotus Triad. He lifted his head up. "What is this?"
But she was gone, swallowed by the rain and shadows. He stood there, the card cold in his hand, the oddity of the encounter sinking in.
Rachel's footsteps crunched back, a paper bag in her hand. "One burger, as ordered. No pickles, because you're weird like that." She paused, catching his expression. "What'd I miss?"
He tucked the card into his pocket, his jaw tight. "Nothing much. Come on, Let's move."