Washington, DC --
A deadly contagion is in the hands of the Collective.
Four Targets, One Cure.
Xander Whitt must solve the riddles to stop the plague from spreading, but the only lead he has is Agent Zero.
I want to play a game, Xander...
Stacey Chapman's hearing finally came to her and she awoke to the blaring sound of her alarm clock. She sat upright in bed and rubbed her eyes. Her head pounded and then the lump in her throat seized her.
She coughed a brutal series of hacks. The phlegm in her chest ripped from its hold and mucus came to the back of her throat. She swallowed the thick wad down and grimaced in disgust as her insides oozed.
She searched the room for her phone and after moments of taking in her surroundings, she found it on her bedside table – the alarm still blaring from it. She wasn't sure how long it had been running. Her fatigued hand plopped down on the table and snatched up her phone. She instinctually silenced the alarm and then rubbed her eyes again to bring her vision together. She then gathered her focused on the digital clock on the phone.
It read 9:15AM.
"Oh no, oh no, oh no!" She burst out of her bed sheets and ran to her closet. Flinging the door open, she found her military formals and tore them off the hangar. Unaware that she was carrying a deadly disease within her, she bolted out of her apartment grabbing her work bag on the way out.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Seamus slammed on the brakes and parked alongside Union Station. Getting out of the van quickly, their eyes lifted to the columns before the building. They scanned the six deities and found Apollo, a cloaked god holding a scroll. A large inscription was chiseled into the stone next to him, high on the station's structural face.
SWEETENER OF HUT AND OF HALL BRINGER OF LIFE OUT OF NAUGHT FREEDOM O FAIREST OF ALL THE DAUGHTERS OF TIME AND THOUGHT
MAN'S IMAGINATION HAS CONCEIVED ALL NUMBERS AND LETTERS ALL TOOLS VESSELS AND SHELTERS - EVERY ART AND TRADE ALL PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY - AND ALL POLITIES
THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE
"The truth shall make you free..." Xander repeated the last line of the etched quote.
"Definitely in the right place," Ashton updated.
"Is that the clue?" The remnants of the commuter rush brushed past them as their gaze remained elevated to the heights of the Apollo statue.
"I don't think so...there are no two sets of three, it's just a row of six, no division amongst them. Look for references to time in the station," he replied.
They are guarding two sets of three. They are physically guarding the doors. The clue must be in the station.
Xander walked toward the front door, while Seamus and Ashton fanned out to either wing of the station. Upon passing through the doorway, he walked into the main terminal which had an expansive arched ceiling towering overhead.
With golden octagonal indentations lining the arch, the regality of the station was apparent. The floor space was open and wide for the bustling crowds of people that passed through every day. Xander headed east and spun as he surveyed all 360 degrees of his position.
"I don't see anything out of the ordinary over here," Ashton updated in his comm, west of his position.
"Nothing yet for me" Seamus mentioned, "Could be up near the shops." Xander remained silent and focused on his surroundings. He found himself walking in the shoes of a mass murderer, trying to run a psychoanalysis on Ezra.
It would be out of the way, untampered for days. Yet it would blend in enough for everyone to not notice it unless they were looking for it.
He passed a decorated wall and progressed into the next chamber. He stopped for a moment and consulted his snapshot of five paces back. The decoration was odd, for it was displayed in two sets of three. He searched his memory.
That was not there the last time I was here.
He returned to the wall and gazed upon it, marveling as he realized he found the clue to Ezra's next target. One of Ezra's men must have planted it, for it did not have a readily understandable purpose. But then a wide-sweeping feeling of bewilderment chilled him to the bone.
But what does it mean?
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