Steemit Challenge s26wk2- Mysterious Roommate

Ai Creation

“Don’t open that bag, Timothy.”

The voice came from behind him, cold and sharp like a blade. Timothy stood paralyzed with his hand above the duffel bag he had just removed beneath Ronnie bed that was half zipped to the top. It was dark, the shaky streetlight only creeping in through the slight curtain making the shadows slide like claws on the walls. Thuddingly his heart went, and Ronnie stepped in, keeping even countenance, but clouded eyes.

Timothy swallowed hard. “Ronnie… what are these? You told me you came here to start a business. But these—these aren’t business tools. They look like weapons.”

Ai Creation

Ronnie smiled superficially and it seemed with mockery. Tools can never be judged to be bad until you choose to use it. A drill may construct a house… or a break-in.”

Timothy was chilled. Since Ronnie had moved in he appeared polished, expensive suits, perfect manners and a suaveness of speech that people immediately trusted.

Ai Creation

“I don’t believe you anymore,” Timothy said,

His voice trembling but firm. “If you are really an entrepreneur, why the gun? Why the lock-picks? Why the magnifying glass?”

Ronnie lost his smile and a moment did the hard expression leave his face, seeming to put on a mask. Sometimes business is not paper, he said. Business is war sometimes.

Timothy stared. “You’re a thief, aren’t you? Or worse… a spy?”

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Ronnie chuckled, though it wasn’t cheerful. “Spy. Thief. Agent. Criminal. Those are the names of people who do not think in terms of purpose. You see, Timothy, in this city, power does"'nt come by selling imported tea leaves or exporting textiles.

Timothy stepped back and his breathing was uneven. You cheated me. You used me as a fount of information.”

“Not entirely,”' Ronnie replied, tilting his head. “I needed to blend in, and you… you were perfect. Honest, ordinary, invisible. One such as you never gets noticed. That was your protection.”😵‍💫

Melodrama was in the air, in the room people were thick with suspicion and fear. Timothy had an impulse to run, to call the police, but his legs did not respond. What becomes of me now? said he, in a very small voice.

Ronnie signed a little regretfully. That is up to you. Putting up with silence will take you no where. Be safe. But suppose that you attempt to expose me--” He clicked the gun against the table, not threatening, but without being threatened, very forthright. “Let’s just say, silence is a profitable choice.”

Eyes of Ronnie glowed. Lives, Timothy, are ruined day in and day out. By the politicians, by the businessmen in their suits, by wars no one bothers to put a damper. I am another of the same game.”

And thus he zipped the bag, threw it over his shoulder and walked to the door. Timothy arose in his fright to cry out, to call him to halt, but the heavy chain of dreadfastened to his tongue.

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source

The door clicked shut behind Ronnie, leaving the room colder, emptier. Timothy sat on the edge of his bed, his mind racing. Was Ronnie truly a spy? A thief? Or someone caught in a larger, hidden war?

Weeks later, the city was shaken by a series of mysterious break-ins at high-security buildings. No valuables were stolen, only documents, files, and data. The newspapers spoke of “phantom hands” and “the man no one could trace.” Timothy read them in silence, his heart heavy with the truth he could never tell.

He realized then that Ronnie wasn’t just a mysterious roommate. He was a shadow in plain sight—too clever to be caught, too dangerous to be trusted.

And in the dead of night, when the city slept, Timothy sometimes wondered: had Ronnie spared him… or marked him for later?

Ronnie closed the door and it started colder, emptier. Timothy was pacing about his bed he had so much on his mind. Ronnie a spy? A thief? Or in a bigger, nefarious war taken prisoner?

They shook the city weeks later with a string of unexplained break-ins in high security buildings. There was no theft of valuables but theft of documents, files and data. The powers talked of how the newspapers wrote about a ghostly pair of hands and the man that nobody could ever track down.

Then he knew that Ronnie was not a roommate with a secret. He was an open-air specter--too canny to be found out, too well qualified to be dealt with.

And in the middle of the night, when everybody was asleep, Timothy wondered sometimes: had Ronnie left him... or left him to be killed later on?

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I would like to invite my friends @suboohi , @shahid76, and @wuddi to join this challenge.

Regards
artist1111