In the world of entertainment, there's an unspoken rule: public figures have no privacy. And the concept of legality often becomes a gray area when it comes to the paparazzi.
Some argue it's a form of oversight, a way to guide the public by exposing what the stars want to keep hidden. Others say it's nothing short of an invasion of privacy. But one thing was clear: being a paparazzo was a risky business. One wrong move, one upset of the wrong powerful figure, and a photographer's career—or even their life—could end in disaster.
Danson was a living example of this.
Once a pioneer in the paparazzi world, now a man hiding from those very same powers he once captured on film.
When John showed up uninvited, with an unsettling calmness, Danson's heart skipped a beat. The young man's confidence felt almost… dangerous.
"How did you find me?" Danson asked, still trying to grasp the situation.
"I already told you," John replied, his smile almost too knowing. "Keyword search. When you were gathering information on me online, every move you made was exposed to me."
"Keyword search…" Danson frowned, his mind racing. "Wait. Could this be the infamous 'Find people along the network' technique?" His eyes widened as the realization hit him.
The concept was chilling. This wasn't just some clever tool—this was power. If John could track him like this, it meant the entire network system was under his supervision. That would mean a level of control and access that went beyond anything Danson had ever imagined.
But what did that mean for John?
Who was this young man? And how had he gained such access?
The idea that John could monitor not just his every move but the searches of anyone on the internet was terrifying. A normal person wouldn't even notice being watched, but someone with power over the system could track you through something as simple as a search term.
Sensitive searches—like national leaders, secret agents, or state secrets—triggered a system that could track and investigate further. Danson's mind raced. Had he unknowingly triggered that system by looking into John? The implications were terrifying.
"Who is that woman?" John asked, cutting through his thoughts. "Why did she come to see you?"
Danson was silent. The question was a dangerous one. He knew that whatever answer he gave could be the difference between being dragged into the chaos or walking away unscathed.
In his mind, he was running a rapid risk assessment: Who was more dangerous? Laura and her ties to the Swift family, or John, whose methods seemed almost supernatural?
But then John spoke again, as if reading his thoughts. "If I'm not mistaken, that woman was Laura, right?"
Danson blinked, surprised. The young man's certainty was unsettling.
"Yes, she's the one," Danson admitted reluctantly, his voice small.
John smiled. It was a knowing smile, as if he had expected that answer. "I thought so. I recognized her from earlier. She walked right past me downstairs. But she didn't recognize me. I guess she's too proud to look down, eh?"
Danson stiffened. How did John know that?
But John wasn't done yet. "I've been watching the paparazzi following Anita lately," he continued, the tone of his voice suddenly colder. "It's obvious they've been targeting her, while showing no interest in anyone else from the crew. And they're all working for the same boss—the one behind Laura."
The pieces clicked into place, and Danson felt a knot form in his stomach.
"So," John said, looking directly at him. "I want you to do something for me."
A chill ran down Danson's spine.
"I want you to play Laura at her own game. Use her tactics against her."
Danson froze. "You want me to—what? Play her at her own game? Are you serious?" He shook his head quickly, panic creeping into his voice. "No! No way! Laura has the backing of the Swift family. I'm not going to offend them again! I'd be dead for sure!"
He had been hunted by the Swift family for years, and the very thought of crossing them again made his blood run cold.
But John just looked at him with an unsettling calm. "You're afraid of the Swift family?" he said softly, but there was a dangerous edge to his words. "So you're willing to offend me, instead?"
Danson blinked, his heart stopping. He hadn't considered this. Could it be? Was John more powerful than the Swift family?
He felt a sharp pain in his temples. What was this young man capable of? Who was he really?
"I don't know if you recognize this kind of thing…" John continued, as if reading Danson's thoughts. "But if not, I can show you."
With that, John reached into his pocket and placed an object on the coffee table.
Danson's gaze snapped to it. It was a token—an intricate, otherworldly artifact that he recognized instantly.
"The Oracle token?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
John smiled, leaning back in his chair. "I was hoping you'd recognize it."