Chapter 17: Relay Surveillance
1013 Words
Night draped itself over the city. A brisk autumn wind swept across King's Crossing Bridge as Elian Thorne ran. He stretched into the motion, the wind plastering his clothes against him. Perhaps it was the shift in his mindset, but he felt it... the chains forged by family and circumstance were finally beginning to loosen.
Elian ran faster.
Occasional pedestrians turned to watch. They could all sense it – that sudden, inexplicable pulse of youthful energy, impulsive and fierce.
Cresthaven Heights was one of the city's most exclusive neighborhoods, a well-known enclave for the wealthy. That Grayson Wong, scion of a rich family, lived here was no surprise to Elian.
Security was tight. Keycard access was mandatory at every gate. Elian circled towards the service entrance, scouting for a way in. Before he could formulate a plan, six men in black suits emerged from a side path. They moved with ramrod posture, sharp as bayonets. Their strides were unnervingly synchronized – the timing, the distance, as if measured by a ruler.
Elian froze. Because among them, half-carried, half-dragged, was a dazed teenager... Grayson Wong. Grayson muttered incoherently – "prison," "machines," "monsters"...
They moved swiftly towards two black SUVs parked outside the service gate. As one man climbed into the front passenger seat, he seemed to sense something, his head snapping towards Elian's position.
Elian immediately turned away, pulling out his phone with feigned nonchalance. The man appeared unconcerned. The SUVs roared off into the night.
Elian stood motionless outside the gate, staring blankly at his phone.
Who were they?
Why take Grayson?
Because he’s a Traveler?
It had to be. Elian didn't believe in coincidences.
He turned and headed home, his mind racing over the men in black. Gradually, a new unease prickled his skin. A young man in a black hoodie had shadowed him for five consecutive blocks. A nagging familiarity... he'd seen him before. Instinctively, every muscle in Elian’s body tensed. An invisible pressure eroded his sense of safety. Like being targeted by a predator.
He recalled: when he'd encountered the suited men near the Cresthaven service gate, this hooded figure had been nearby, ostensibly glued to his phone. But his fingers hadn't scrolled. Elian couldn’t analyze everything in real-time – it was exhausting – but he could retrieve the memory.
Thinking fast, Elian casually raised his phone to his ear, pulling up short on the sidewalk. "Yeah, I'll be late for dinner..." His face was hidden in the shadow cast by his baseball cap.
The hooded man passed him without breaking stride or looking back.
Elian tracked him with his peripheral vision. The man didn’t glance back once. Doubt crept in. Was he just being paranoid?
The hooded figure soon vanished into the bustling city crowd. Elian pretended to hang up and continued walking. Thank god I changed out of my sweatshirt and wore the cap. Otherwise, the Westhaven Preparatory logo would have been a dead giveaway.
Just as Elian started to relax, waiting at the next crosswalk, he spotted another familiar face among the pedestrians beside him.
...Someone he’d seen near the main entrance of Cresthaven Heights.
Not a coincidence.
This was Relay Surveillance.
In Relay Surveillance, each tracker shadows the target for only a segment. If the target stops, the tracker continues walking normally, and another team member seamlessly takes over. It’s one of the most covert methods. Elian was grateful for all those random, useful books he’d read.
He finally understood: the moment that man in the SUV had looked at him, he’d been marked. There were more than six. Others had been hidden in the shadows.
What kind of secret organization was this? So disciplined, so focused on Travelers. So... professional.
A chilling thought struck Elian: he might not be among the first wave of Travelers. Perhaps he was the second, or even the third. Otherwise, how could a group mobilize this fast, mere hours after the Crossing became public knowledge? They were prepared.
Elian’s dark pupils dilated, absorbing every detail: the jogger approaching on the sidewalk, the street vendor hawking chocolate bars, the woman clicking past in high heels, the shifting patterns of light beneath the jaundiced glow of the streetlamps. He committed it all, reminding himself: No mistakes.
The crosswalk timer blinked: 12 seconds.
The hooded man who’d passed him earlier was likely looping back right now, positioning himself to resume the tail. Calculating the distance around Vernal Gate Avenue, Concord Road, and Aethelstan Way... at an adult's running pace, it would take him at most ten minutes.
If he wanted to break free…
Now was the moment.
The light snapped green. The current watcher stepped off the curb. Elian whirled back the way he'd come.
The tracker continued crossing the street without hesitation, murmuring softly into his comms earpiece, "Target reversed course at intersection. Did not cross. ETA your position?"
"Negative. Two minutes to intercept position," a voice crackled back.
Instantly, the crossing tracker sensed the trap. He spun around, scanning frantically for Elian. The boy was gone. Vanished into the urban tapestry.
"Target lost," the tracker reported flatly into his comm, standing stranded on the crosswalk.
Some distance away, the hooded man sprinted full tilt, a wry chuckle escaping him. "Embarrassing. Two on one, and we lost him. Think he made us?"
The reply was certain, tinged with reluctant respect. "He knew. He's sharp."
The hooded runner considered it. "Kid looked eighteen, tops. Probably still at Westhaven Preparatory. If he spotted us... that’s unnatural. And the way he handled it... when he stopped to 'call'? I didn't get a whiff. Otherwise, I would've grabbed him right then."
"Curious... why’d you initiate the tail? We’ve got plenty on our plate today. Wasting time on a random?"
"Not random," the hooded man panted between strides. "When the Captain brought Subject 009 out... the kid averted his gaze. Instinctively. Like he knew what looking meant."
- Writer
