Chapter 1: Rise and Shine

The buzz of a phone cut through the heavy shroud of the dorm room. Alex stirred, his head throbbing as if a sledgehammer had been taken to it. A searing pain pulsed through his left arm as he attempted to move. Reluctantly, he shifted his gaze to his side, where a familiar face lay tangled in the bed sheets.

"Not again," he muttered bitterly, casting a regretful look at Alice, her crimson hair a stark contrast to the dim moonlight. Memories of their night out began to flood his mind. "Shit, we swore this wouldn't happen again."

With a heavy sigh, he turned to the other side of the room, where Jones lay sprawled out on the floor. Jones was clad in an absurd combination of a dinosaur onesie topped with a garish Hawaiian shirt, snoring loudly as if mocking the solemnity of the moment.

The incessant buzzing of his phone jarred Alex from his uneasy slumber. He glanced at the caller ID, his heart sinking as dread pooled in his gut. With a reluctant swipe, Alex answered the call, his voice laced with resignation. "I hope you don't have a job for me right now."

"Would I be calling if I didn't?" the voice on the other end responded coldly. "We'll be outside in 20 minutes."

Alex's irritation simmered beneath the surface. "You never seem to care whether I'm busy or not. I could be in the middle of something important."

Gently disentangling himself from Alice's embrace, he arranged a pillow in place of his arm and pressed a fleeting kiss to her forehead

The cold, unfeeling digits of the clock on his phone read 4:53 am. Letting out a low, frustrated groan, he hauls himself out of bed and strides over to where his friend Jones lies, fast asleep on the unforgiving cold wooden bedroom floor. Without a moment's hesitation, Alex delivers a sharp slap across Jones's face.

Startled from slumber, Jones jerks awake, his eyes wide with panic. The sight of him in that ridiculous dinosaur onesie clashes starkly with his otherwise chiselled jawline and deep-set brown eyes."

"Tell Alice she can stay as long as she wants, Actually ask her to wait for me; we need to talk."

Jones, still half-asleep, nodded with a mix of annoyance and understanding. "You're a real prick for waking me up like this. But no worries, I've got you bro."

"Thanks," Alex said, his voice betraying a hint of gratitude before he slipped out of the room. Just before leaving, he couldn't resist a parting remark, "And seriously, I know your room is a mess but can you stop crashing in my room when yours is literally next door?"

In the corridor, he made his way past Jones's room and turned the corner, heading toward his private study. He grabbed the doorknob but pushed it downward, revealing a concealed keypad. After punching in a six-digit code, he entered the room and sealed the door behind him.

The study, which during the daytime is a sanctuary, felt eerily different now. His notes lay neatly on his desk, their orderly arrangement a stark contrast to the chaos in his mind. The scent of old books filled the air, a familiar comfort in the midst of chaos. But his mind turned to anguish as he looked towards the bookshelf

Approaching the bookshelf, he cautiously pushed it aside, revealing a hidden passage into the adjacent flat. As he crossed into the room on the other side, the bookshelf slid back into place, sealing the secret entrance.

In this stark and sterile room, the atmosphere was cold and unforgiving. A steel table occupied the center, and heavy-duty plastic cases lined the walls, each holding a sinister secret. This room was devoid of warmth, devoid of life.

Alex moved past the cases into an adjacent space, flipping on the harsh overhead lights. He leaned over the sink, splashing water on his face and catching his reflection in the mirror. His green eyes gleamed with exhaustion, his auburn hair dishevelled.

Glancing at the time, he realised he was running out of it. "No time for a shower," he muttered as he attempted to neaten his hair with wet hands.

In the adjoining bedroom, he dressed in a sombre grey jumper and black trousers, throwing on a worn black topcoat. Laced leather boots completed the grim ensemble. Turning to a small plastic case, he uncovered a cache of weapons—throwing knives, handguns, holsters, handcuffs, and bottles of pills.

With precision born of practice, he concealed the throwing knives within the coat's lining and strapped on the holsters. Pills and handcuffs found their place in his jacket pockets. Checking the time once more, 5:09 am. It was time to leave.

Exiting through the rear window onto the fire escape, Alex made his way down, the window closing soundlessly behind him. As he descended the fire escape, he absorbed the chilling atmosphere—the biting winter air, the unceasing urban symphony of sounds, both mundane and ominous.

"London may not be the city that never sleeps," he mused, "but it's always up to something." At precisely 5:13 am, an inconspicuous white Prius pulled up as expected. As he climbed inside, a grim chuckle escaped him. "You know, I almost miss the suspicious black SUV."

The door sealed shut, and Alex was swept into the darkness, where secrets and shadows awaited.