arderon.md

ENTRY LOG 1 - 12/04/2179

There is not much to say about him, for what is there to say about the underground nomad?

A blink of an eye and he disappears before you. The unseen shadow: he delivers and vanishes once the job ends. All that remains is the memory of piercing blue eyes and the haunting gravelly voice of a man who speaks little.

ENTRY LOG 2 - 15/05/2179

The man plays both sides. He will ask no questions, only payment. If information is what you seek, he will deliver. If it is an associate you wish to meet, he will arrange it without a bat of an eye. If you wish someone to hurt, he will ensure they will.

All he demands is fair pay and the promise of loyalty. And no one tries to go against him for this rule. No one knows him enough to try, and everyone fears his vast network.

And if someone did try, I have never heard of the poor lad who dares to.

ENTRY LOG 3 - 05/02/2180

The man appears defenseless from what I could make of him.

He wears a ratty zipped jacket, worn out boots and a simple t-shirt. His hood is always up and mask always on. But there are no signs of weaponry (even brass knuckles). Though given how he evades capture each time, he might just be too fast to ever need weapons. Or that weapons might slow him down.

It’s a pitiful sight, I’d say. He appears skinny and malnourished. No sign of muscle from what little I can see in the dark. But he remains to be undefeated. That is much of a wonder. Especially since he comes alone.

Perhaps he is a magician. Someone who misdirects instead of rushing head on.

[SIDENOTE]

His information is quite detailed borderline on creepy with its accuracy and invasiveness. How he acquires these things are beyond me.

ENTRY LOG 4 - 08/11/2181

It is possible that I have met Arderon outside of his work. There’s a man with a girl — no older than 15, I’d reckon. They were at a park, wandering aimlessly. None of them seemed to be talking until someone tried groping the girl all of a sudden. The man was clearly threatened, starring daggers onto the threat and not-so-quietly uttering a threat.

The sound he made is eerily similar to how the nomad proclaims his threats. Low, gravelly, and awfully deadpan. But what carries the weight of the promise is how cold his eyes were.

Icy blue jewels that glimmer in the faint street lights in abandoned alleyways.

It must be him.

ENTRY LOG 5 - 03/07/2182

Truthfully, I cannot be sure on whether I am right in my accusations, but I needed to be sure anyway.

Looking up the man in the registry produces no results, even after meticulously combing through swathes of blonds within the area. It is likely that he had his chip altered or removed, which raises my suspicions on him being the elusive phantom.

(and isn’t it a wonder that we who have their chips removed can still live in society undetected as long as we avoid legitimate establishments. it is a blessing that the government doesn’t busy themselves with the rug rats of the street.)

It’s quite hard to associate a name with that face. For all that I know, the man doesn’t actually exist in people’s minds. Neighbours seem to not know him, and the ones that do will only proclaim that he is one hell of a shut-in, only going out if his ward (now isn’t that something) is also going.

Looking for potential records on social media also brings about nothing. His face never came up in my searches, and never did it pop up in various corporate meetings and events. No friends, no associates. No one ever mentioned him or showed his face.

It might be best to have someone more capable than I am to look for details on the man, but I fear for my livelihood. I wish to not bear the consequences of unveiling the phantom with fingerprints across the district and beyond.

ENTRY LOG 6

Fate has a weird way of dealing with things. It was at a boardgame cafe where I met the man once more. For a shut-in, he is surprisingly social.

The Midnight Archives is a known safe zone within the underground. It is one of the few known spaces where you come to deal in equal footing. However, unlike Crucible, there is no one to try keep the peace, so to speak. I suppose what makes it work is simply common understanding among us. An unspoken rule of sorts.

It also helps that those who came to this spot only does so not for important business. It is to be said that I came into the establishment just to unwind. Meeting that man was a coincidence.

He was playing a game of Trio with two others when I saw him. I recognised the worn out deck he was playing. The game itself is quite basic in a way. Typically boiled down to a simple memory game. It is quite weird seeing him playing a simple parlour game, but who am I to complain? It is a good segue to further get to know him, after all.

He introduces himself as Elijah, no last name. Quite generous of him to introduce himself this way, but I cannot tell for sure if it is his real name. He doesn’t betray any other thought or spill more than necessary. A guarded man who understands the danger of the underground, surely.

I do not understand the game he plays. His choices are quite odd considering the straightforwardness of the game. He occasionally stared daggers onto each player, likely trying to make heads or tails on what their cards were. But surely he cannot tell; you cannot see behind those cards unless they’re revealed to you, no?

In most cases, he elects to flip over cards faced down on the table, seemingly not aiming to obtain the trio. I do not doubt his memory, but it is odd how he skips over obvious pairs or trios in favor of… whatever he’s doing.

His behaviour slightly shifts upon seeing a seven unfold, in which case he obtains a heightened focus. It is probable that he is hunting purely for a trio of sevens, but I cannot see how that is sensible. The game ends with the person with the most trios, or those who obtained two numbers that add or subtract to 7. You don’t need to have a single set of sevens to win the game outright, but why is he so adamant on making that his only strategy?

What boggles me is how much he excels. I do not know how much of it is luck but for the number of times he won, he always does so with three sevens on his hand. And from the four games we played, he won three of them. Believe me when I said I was stupefied. Apparently the others don’t share my sentiment, however. It is a normal enough occurrence that they can’t afford to be surprised by it.

When I asked why he enjoyed the game so much, he didn’t give much of an answer. He claimed it is a game from his childhood, but I can surmise there is more to it. No one plays this game this often to the point that opponents know of his tactics for the sake of nostalgia. When asking why he does that strategy of his, he only says, “I am a greedy man.” I cannot say anything on that regard — I know not the man well enough to assess the truthfulness of the situation.

I suppose there is some merit to that statement. Doing what he does is stupidly risky, both in this game and professionally. Greed can be enough of a factor to actively risk one’s life; the promise of gold is quite alluring after all. But I find it hard to believe when most of his professional dealings are done for favours and not gold.

He demands monetary compensation, yes, and it is usually on par with the information you receive. However, if compared to what others may sell, his fares were rather cheap. Sometimes he forgoes monetary compensation for small favours, not that I have experienced it myself.

So if he is not motivated by greed, then why is it that he does what he does? I suppose I can endeavour to meet with him more often. He is an interesting man to look into.